A/N: Okay, I am quite interested in hearing everyone’s opinion about this piece. It’s a flash fiction, and I think it turned out pretty okay. (If I may say so myself 😉 )
Mr. X was a perfectly normal man, which was quite a rarity nowadays. He wasn’t much of anything really. He wasn’t spoiled, wasn’t selfish, wasn’t generous, wasn’t particularly good or particularly bad. He was a completely average human being and very proud of this fact.
Sure, he supposed that he was rather orderly. Didn’t like a mess if he could avoid it, but that was still pretty normal. It was just such a shame that certain other people couldn’t see that.
“Seriously, it’s just a pen!”
It was his new roommate talking, and Mr. X already knew that this arrangement wasn’t going to work out. It wasn’t ‘just’ a pen. It was a pen on an otherwise perfectly empty table, and Gaby wasn’t even using it!
Continue reading Mr. X
A/N: This piece was actually written in collaboration with Emma Bertelsen, and it is an extract from a longer novel. Or at least the extract from an idea of a novel 😉
Daniel awoke with a pounding head and a dry throat. His left arm was asleep, caused by the man currently resting his head on it. Jacob was it?
He was still asleep, thank God, and Daniel tried to remember when they’d gotten back to his apartment.
Slowly pulling his arm back, he held his breath as Jacob only reacted by rolling over in his sleep and mumbling something intelligible. Sitting up, Daniel reached over to the night stand to get the two aspirins lying there. Next to the pills lay a small bag of pixie dust that was easily hidden away in the drawer. As an extra precaution he made sure to lock it. It’d cost him a pretty sum, and Daniel was in no mood to come up with a lie to explain the shimmering powder to his current bed partner.
He should probably go through his apartment before Jacob woke up. Make sure it was completely magic-free. What a bother.
Continue reading Specialising in the Supernatural
A/N: Tried my hands at micro poetry (inspired by Sarah Doughty) and it turned out about twice as long as planned. Oh, well 🙂 Let me know what you think
With a desire
Continue reading Home
Sundays were meant for relaxing. Not for having panic attacks.
Clara had used to love Sundays. She would stay in her pyjamas the entire day, watching television and eating chocolate. She loved Sundays. Or at least she’d used to.
Then she’d decided to become a wedding planner, and Sunday had become the day of her nightmares.
Friday and Saturday were quite awful too, but for some reason Sunday had been the day that Clara had the hardest time giving up. Suddenly Sundays weren’t for hot chocolate and long baths, but rather for listening to complaints and working as hard as ever. Tuesday was her most relaxed day of the week, but it just wasn’t the same. She missed her Sundays, and this particular Sunday was particularly stressful.
It was in the middle of a very prestigious wedding party for a very demanding, but very wealthy couple, and Clara couldn’t wait until she no longer needed to hear the bride’s shrill voice yell at her. The entire day had been one little problem after another, and it was first now that Clara felt safe enough to take a deep breath and relax.
Continue reading Damned Sundays
A/N: Another short poem, but I am however working on a longer piece (cirka 15 pages), if anyone prefers my short stories.
Time to study.
Time to stress.
Time to work.
To get success.
Time to worry.
Time to drink.
Time to forget.
No time to think.
Time to regret.
Time to doubt.
Now time for love.
But time ran out.
A/N: Another Sarah Doughty poem – do you guys agree with it or not? 🙂
If you dare
© Sarah Doughty