The crunch of the dense December snow screamed with each footstep. His every movement was laborious; each moment stretched into an agonizing infinity; but he had to keep moving. He had to make it home alive.
In the dark quiet of the night he was unaware that he had company. He was unprepared for the weather, let alone the creature that eyed him cautiously as he meandered into it's territory.
As he struggled to put one foot in front of the other he became aware that the steady crunch was being echoed ahead of him. He stopped for a moment. It also stopped. He went to step again, then heard a definite crisp crunch of ice before he had chance to place his foot once more. The crunches turned into crashes and he heard the trees ahead clatter and scrape against some Juggernaut of the winter night.
His eyes widened as a lumbering shadow thundered towards his frozen body. He could almost smell the sweat and anger as it cut through the frozen air. Death hurtled towards him but he did not have the strength to move.
Showing posts with label 5 minute story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 5 minute story. Show all posts
Tuesday, 25 September 2012
Thursday, 12 July 2012
The Dinosaur in my Bedroom
5 minute story
She clattered on the door, scratching for the handle. Each scrape sent shivers down my spine as I waited expectantly.
The door crept open slowly, swinging inwards towards me, hiding the intruder from sight. Moments later her head appeared above the handle, her eyes searching hungrily for prey.
I moved slightly and she spotted me. Her eyes pinned me to my bed. I could not move.
She shot into the room, blocking my only exit with her smile. She grinned at me and hopped hungrily onto my bed. I lay prone, waiting to be devoured.
She licked her lips and pounced.
She clattered on the door, scratching for the handle. Each scrape sent shivers down my spine as I waited expectantly.
The door crept open slowly, swinging inwards towards me, hiding the intruder from sight. Moments later her head appeared above the handle, her eyes searching hungrily for prey.
I moved slightly and she spotted me. Her eyes pinned me to my bed. I could not move.
She shot into the room, blocking my only exit with her smile. She grinned at me and hopped hungrily onto my bed. I lay prone, waiting to be devoured.
She licked her lips and pounced.
Lightning Rider
5 minute story
Today was the last day that Edward was hit by lightning. Over the years he had been struck four times, which, to his friends, had earnt him the name "Lightning Rider".
Little did he know what truly happened, just that he was alone in the wind and rain, then the next minute he was waking up with a gap in his memory.
Today it was different. He had watched the storm for a while and walked outside. He felt drawn to the warm rain, cleansing and fresh on his face, his clothes tautened against his figure.
He looked up and saw a flash. He saw the earth disappearing beneath him. He passed through a portal and smiled at the grey faces that peered at him.
"Welcome back," one said, "go to the viewing deck, you can watch the devastation from there. Your insight over the years has been of much help."
Wednesday, 11 July 2012
The Lost Yeti
5 minute story
He lay on his side in the cage, his back to the bars. What appeared to be his large hairy head was tucked into his long hairy arms.
From a distance, or even close up, there was just one word that eveyone used to describe him, "hairy." Somehow this had even become his name in the enclosure. They had even taught him to respond to it.
Today the sun scorched through the bars and tried to warm his chilly form. He was so still, hairy and still, but to his captors this was no different to any other day.
To Hairy it wasn't. It was his one hundred and third birthday. Also it was the last day he drew breath, for everyone of yeti birth knows, one hundred and three is the day you became a lost yeti.
He lay on his side in the cage, his back to the bars. What appeared to be his large hairy head was tucked into his long hairy arms.
From a distance, or even close up, there was just one word that eveyone used to describe him, "hairy." Somehow this had even become his name in the enclosure. They had even taught him to respond to it.
Today the sun scorched through the bars and tried to warm his chilly form. He was so still, hairy and still, but to his captors this was no different to any other day.
To Hairy it wasn't. It was his one hundred and third birthday. Also it was the last day he drew breath, for everyone of yeti birth knows, one hundred and three is the day you became a lost yeti.
Tuesday, 10 July 2012
Falling Star
5 minute story
Henry sat at the bar and scowled at the peanuts. He picked one up between thumb and forefinger, aimed and flicked it straight out of the window.
"Ow," cried a mysterious voice.
Henry raised an eyebrow in surprise, then looked to the bar door. A young woman walked in, a hand clutched to her left eye, cursing under her breath. She looked around until she spotted the toilets and rushed towards them.
Henry shook his head and placed it between his hands. He stared at the stage, where he should be performing, and sighed.
"What's the point," he muttered dejectedly.
As he continued to stare miserably at the peanuts he noticed that the girl was now at the bar. She was arguing with the barman, then turned to look at Henry. She was wearing a Henry t-shirt.
Henry sat at the bar and scowled at the peanuts. He picked one up between thumb and forefinger, aimed and flicked it straight out of the window.
"Ow," cried a mysterious voice.
Henry raised an eyebrow in surprise, then looked to the bar door. A young woman walked in, a hand clutched to her left eye, cursing under her breath. She looked around until she spotted the toilets and rushed towards them.
Henry shook his head and placed it between his hands. He stared at the stage, where he should be performing, and sighed.
"What's the point," he muttered dejectedly.
As he continued to stare miserably at the peanuts he noticed that the girl was now at the bar. She was arguing with the barman, then turned to look at Henry. She was wearing a Henry t-shirt.
Monday, 9 July 2012
The Old Gods
5 Minute Story
They sat at the bar watching the TV in the corner.
"Tutt" said the tallest as he sat watching the news, " they just don't fear any more."
"True" said the oldest, "it's as if we lost to our adversaries."
"Maybe we just let those heroic upstarts make them think they didn't need us anymore" said the tallest.
"Yup" came the reply "if they still believed in me I would have prevented that earthquake in the blink of an eye."
"Of course, of course" muttered the tallest.
"Mind, I'd have asked for a sacrifice for my troubles".
Sunday, 8 July 2012
At The End Of The Machine War
5 minute story
They stood by the battlefield, silent and thoughtful.
The mud was a mix of earth, blood, and metal. Pools of oil mingled with rivers of blood as they burned the bodies of the fallen. Broken machines were cut up and carted away in dumper trucks. Those that still moved were silenced.
As they looked away they could still hear the odd cry for help and screech of steel.
They stood by the battlefield, silent and thoughtful.
The mud was a mix of earth, blood, and metal. Pools of oil mingled with rivers of blood as they burned the bodies of the fallen. Broken machines were cut up and carted away in dumper trucks. Those that still moved were silenced.
As they looked away they could still hear the odd cry for help and screech of steel.
Pink Lollipop Dragon
5 MinuteStory
Skree and Firey sat at the bar staring at the menu. The name on the cover was "Pink Lollipop Dragon". Skree and Firey looked at each other and raised a scaly eyebrow.
"Oh dear," they both seemed to say.
"Oh dear," they both seemed to say.
Looking down at the list confirmed their fears, 'Rainbow Scale Shooters', 'Sex on the beach with a black russian dragon'.
The barmaid skulked over and asked lispilly, "What can I get you boys?"
Without a pause both of they responded "Fire Breath Beer."
The barmaid asked "are you two together?"
"No" they responded in unison.
The barmaid winked and a false eyelash fell in the glass she was polishing, "Right you are."
Saturday, 7 July 2012
Floating Chair
5 minute story
He sat in the Spanish sunshine, his sunglasses hiding his dilated pupils. He stared across the pool, admiring the odd scantly clad feminine physique, often lingering so long that they cast him a glance, or their boyfriend or husband glared scornfully. Still, he was impervious behind his sunglasses. Eventually his gaze went to the pool; at it's centre floated the undisturbed trophy of the package holiday, an inflatable chair.
He rose unsteadily from his sun lounger and stumbled towards the pool, tripped on a flagstone and fell to his knees. He arose quickly and kept on towards his goal, ignoring the stinging gashes that bled darkly on his sunburnt skin.
As he reached the pool he belly flopped into the chlorine, a line of blood leading anyone towards him. He doggy paddled to the chair and tried to mount it. Once, twice, three times he tried, but couldn't settle.
Frustrated, he returned to his sun lounger, beaten by a floating chair.
He sat in the Spanish sunshine, his sunglasses hiding his dilated pupils. He stared across the pool, admiring the odd scantly clad feminine physique, often lingering so long that they cast him a glance, or their boyfriend or husband glared scornfully. Still, he was impervious behind his sunglasses. Eventually his gaze went to the pool; at it's centre floated the undisturbed trophy of the package holiday, an inflatable chair.
He rose unsteadily from his sun lounger and stumbled towards the pool, tripped on a flagstone and fell to his knees. He arose quickly and kept on towards his goal, ignoring the stinging gashes that bled darkly on his sunburnt skin.
As he reached the pool he belly flopped into the chlorine, a line of blood leading anyone towards him. He doggy paddled to the chair and tried to mount it. Once, twice, three times he tried, but couldn't settle.
Frustrated, he returned to his sun lounger, beaten by a floating chair.
Clay Skull
5 Minute Story
Jenni sat in art class with a ball of heavy clay between her fingers. She stared at her teacher and scowled at his faux art school demeanour and his tight tight jeans.
She stared at the clay and focused all of her anger on its cool damp texture. As her feelings took shape her fingers moved intricately over the clay.
As the clock ticked 11am the school bell rang and she was suddenly aware she was alone with Mr Tight Jeans. She stared at her creation, a clay skull. She scowled at its unearthly grimace and threw it at the wall.
Her teacher barely flinched. He just said "Detention."
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