The shadows are a little too long. A little too dark. Moonlight crusts the gravestones. I step between them, fingertips brushing marble. Pockets of scents. Fresh-dug soil. Rotting flowers. Black wings flap overhead. I breathe white mist. Take another step. Heart thudding. Mist, step, thud #writecbc

No one understands why I like it so much.
I tug on mum’s hand. “We’ll miss it.”
She’s looking at a boring painting. I snatch my hand from hers, ignore her when she shouts my name.
I run to the next room, heart hammering.
Clocks. They’re chiming. Have I missed it?
“Cuckoo.”
Just in time.
#writecbc

The icy wind howled around them.
“Leave me,” Hester spat.
“I followed you to protect you. Can’t you see? I am in love with you.”
He was-what? She stared, a roaring in her ears.
“Patriarchal bullshit!” Her fist struck his jaw, and then she pulled him close, noses touching. “Say it again.”
#WriteCBC

Love spirited away!

It was such a fun prompt!

Click click click.
The sound I dread every night. Teeth snapping in a skull.
And then the smell. Sickly sweet. Stuffing itself up my nose, forcing itself down my throat, shards of glass.
Damp fingers rake across my neck.
I cannot move.
Cannot see.
Cannot scream.
Click click click.
#writecbc

I push the door and the smell of baking hits me, reminding me of my grandma’s house. Paintings of ships in stormy seas hang on the walls, and a cuckoo clock chimes, the wooden bird gliding from its tiny door. I remove my shoes and place them with the frilly slippers, feeling right at home. #writecbc

Thank you!

I want to put the final touches to my pitch package for my first novel and send it to five agents in January. To keep my mind from dwelling too much on that process, I plan on losing myself even more thoroughly in my second novel, with the aim of finishing the first draft by mid-March. #writecbc

Ella’s mouth opened, smoke spewing from her lips as her tongue formed acrid, long-forgotten words. Words she couldn’t recall learning.
Fire sprang up in a ring around them both, the ice hissing into steam.
“That’ll keep him at bay for a minute,” Ella’s mum shouted. “We must hurry!”
#5actfestivestory

“Who’s coming?”
Ella’s mother slipped a glass jar amongst the clothing.
“Jack! The snow, Ella!”
“Jack…Frost?”
“You have to stop him.”
“How?!”
“Take this.” She handed Ella the case and flung the front door open.
A man, crowned with icicles, stood on the doorstep. “Going somewhere?”
#5actfestivestory

“I’ll explain on the way,” Ella’s mother said, drying her eyes on the tissue she kept stuffed up her sleeve.
They sat in the old Ford Cortina.
“The roads are blocked, it’s impossible,” Ella said as the engine started.
“Nothing is impossible on Christmas Eve, Ella. Buckle up.”
#5actfestivestory

Alice tore it up into tiny pieces, muttering, “It’s a bit late for that.”
She stalked to the townhouse window and threw the scraps out into the bitter air, laughing darkly to herself.
Her plans for revenge were already set in motion. In one hour, all hell would break loose.
#5actfestivestory