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Jordan Deakes knew he was being watched. It was a feeling he was getting familiar with. His legs ached and his lungs burned but he pushed himself to run further. One more circuit of the park to determine who was spying on him. On the swings, five children egged each other to go higher and the roundabout held another three. An elderly couple rested on a park bench, looking over the sloping ground at the city laid out before them. Two teenage boys rode pushbikes, racing a girl

[Content Warning: strong language] Dr Conrad Jameson raised the metal tube to his lips and aimed at the target. He counted to five to steady his nerves. His mentor had once said that this part of the job was akin to that of a bomb disposal expert and, as his heart drummed in his chest, he felt the similarity. One wrong move and the history of an entire civilisation could be lost. A short burst of breath succeeded in blowing away grit without damaging the stone. He placed the

Jordan Deakes had not even fastened his seatbelt before he said, ‘Tell me about Eddie.’ ‘Your timing could be better,’ Andrea Buchannan said as she pulled away from the curb. Deakes shrugged. ‘This is the first time we’ve been alone in months. Besides, you promised Dust you were looking into his death.’ ‘Has she put you up to this?’ She gave a wry smile. ‘I bet she thinks I’ve given up.’ ‘I'm just trying to get up to speed. How did he die and was it under suspicious circu

Jordan Deakes could not keep the disappointment from his face as Andrea drove the kobaloi away. His scowl followed the Land Rover along the dirt track. He was convinced that Theo, Cruise and the others would fare better with the protection of ARC, but the child-like cryptids had decided otherwise. The 4x4 stopped at the giant stone head positioned at the border of the hidden valley then, after a few moments, continued on its way. ‘I’m still not sure if that thing is alive o

[Content Warning: strong language] ‘Welcome to our home,’ the boy said. He pounded his makeshift cudgel into his palm as he approached. There were a dozen other children holding Deakes down. They all shared the same oversized eyes; larger than usual sockets and irises so big there was little white to be seen. Individually, each posed no substantial threat but their combined weight prevented him from moving. He stalled as the nine-year-old drew nearer. ‘What are you going to

With Auld Lang Syne still ringing round her head, Katie stepped up the kerb, misjudged the height and tripped. She reached out for the nearby lamppost to steady herself, missed, and crunched hard onto the pavement. ‘All acquaintances have forgotten me now,’ she slurred as she crawled to the streetlight and pulled herself to her feet. She was successful on the third attempt. She bent over to look at the damage. Blood dribbled from a cut on her knee but thankfully the multipl

A wave thundered against the prow of the boat, pitching the small craft upwards and throwing Badger to the deck. To steady herself, she clutched at the nearest thing she could find. However, her fellow gnome, Mallet, was not secured and together they tumbled across the floor as the sea bounced and jostled beneath the boat. The gnomes rolled around wildly. Mallet appeared to be made of nothing but knees and elbows. Another wave crashed into the side of the boat, sending it in

The weather had turned by the time Elaine reached Marita’s home. The unseasonal warmth of October, which had stretched into the first week of November, was now gone and the approaching winter bared its fangs. The sleeveless top, a perfect match for her autumnal-hued skirt, was no longer appropriate for enjoying the communal bonfire at the local park. ‘Do you have something warm I can borrow?’ she asked Marita. ‘My mother’s got a vintage poncho. It’s so soft. Go and help you

‘It could be goblins or pixies,’ Fletch said from where he crouched near the hole in the ground. ‘But it’s more likely to be badgers or foxes.’ Deakes looked around. Pumpkins lined the field in neat rows, stretching from hedgerow to hedgerow. He estimated there to be around seven hundred of the orange fruit in this field alone. Or rather, there would have been that many had some not been uprooted and stolen. The small pit he and Fletch stood around represented one of about f

[Content Warning: strong language] When Andrea had told Deakes the job was at Platform Nine, he had expected a train station not the hell in which he now found himself. No room to breathe, people crammed shoulder to shoulder. Oppressive heat, weighted with the acrid mix of perspiration and beer. Darkness which was only intensified by strobing lights. A perpetual haze that clouded his vision and stung the back of his throat. But the worst of it was the noise. Discordant soun

The small aquarium rested on a side counter in one of the labs. Inside, the kidney-shaped creature lay still. Its white tail flickered occasionally and one green stalk lazily waved, the only signs it was alive. ‘This little fellow caused all that trouble?’ Thomas Harris asked. ‘We think it passed from host to host,’ said Andrea Buchannan. ‘I honestly wouldn't have captured it without Jordan's help.’ Harris turned his calculated gaze on Jordan Deakes. ‘You look like you’ve

[Content warning: strong language / sexual scene] Thomas Harris had the chest and arms of a wrestler and the grip to match. Lances of pain shot through Deakes’s hand as Harris squeezed but he was able to keep the pain from showing on his face. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jordan,’ Harris said as he waved Deakes into a chair beside Andrea, ‘but I worry that we have wasted your time.’ Andrea rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t dismiss him so readily,’ she said. ‘He found Salina in recor

Tears filled Salina Edison’s eyes as she looked at the image of her mother. When she raised her gaze to Deakes, her face was filled with equal parts hope and distrust. ‘This can’t be real,’ she said. ‘William told me our mother had drowned.’ ‘He told me the same,’ Deakes said, ‘but his body language revealed he was lying.’ ‘I don’t understand. Her clothes were found on the beach.’ ‘When you…’ Deakes faltered. Thirty-odd years of living in a rational world railed against w

‘People don’t turn into birds. It’s a physical impossibility.’ Jordan Deakes was back in Starbucks, sitting across from Andrea and her colleague. She’d introduced the man as Fletch when they’d caught up with him on the roof. The disappointment of losing Salina was etched into Andrea’s face and she had asked him back to her car for a debriefing. Deakes had declined, preferring to stay in a public place, and instead suggested the coffee shop. ‘Yet it happened,’ he said. ‘I ju

Deakes had spotted his tail several streets earlier and played ignorant. He allowed the car to follow him through the city, ensuring his speed was not too slow to arouse suspicion and not too fast to lose his shadow. It bode well that someone deemed him important enough to keep tabs on; his investigation must be heading in the right direction. He took random turns as he contemplated his options. He wanted to find out who was following him, and to do so before he headed over

The Prize Dragon Peak’s greatest treasure lay beyond the final door. Taryn the Illiterate’s year-long quest was nearing an end. Taking the emerald ring he had liberated from Mage Ragnoff’s tomb, he placed it into a notch in the gate. Rumbling underfoot preceded the portal’s opening. As the door swung inward, the shade of Ragnoff materialised. Chanting the Incantation of Protection, Taryn safely passed into the chamber beyond. His mouth gaped as he looked around. The walls

The bartender shouted four words which froze Rick’s blood: ‘Show me some ID.’ Shrugging in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner, he pulled out his wallet and handed her the driver’s licence. Her eyes flicked from his face to the photo and back again. ‘Chris O. Komes?’ she said flatly. ‘That’s me,’ Rick lied. The woman smiled discreetly, hinting that she got the joke – one that Rick was clueless to – then nodded and returned the card. As she poured the beers, she tapped t

[Content warning: suicidal ideology.] Peter Rogers took another slug from the bottle and counted the pills laid out before him. Four paracetamol, seven aspirin, sixteen cod liver oil capsules and a bottle of St John’s Wort. Taking the lot would only result in a bad taste in his mouth, one so strong that even the whiskey wouldn’t wash it away. As he contemplated his options, his eyes found their way back to the TV screen. The stern face of the black news anchor glared out at

Author's note: the story written for this month's prompt, What the eye doesn’t see, has been entered into a competition and cannot be released until after the competition deadline. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy these pieces of seasonal microfiction. The Gift As he stepped into the living room, Jimmy was amazed at the sight before him. The room was teeming with gifts; under the tree, resting on the couch, piled up before the fire place. He leapt at the closest one, strugg

Preface Inspiration is a timid sprite whose presence is sometimes absent for months at a time. As this month’s prompt has scared the muse away, I considered trying free-flow writing. I’ve tried this method in the past and usually deliver terrible puns, create borderline offensive caricatures or rip off other people’s novels. So I thought I’d have a stab at automatic writing. In case you’re not aware, automatic writing – also known as psychography – is a method whereby the pr