All posts tagged: #amwritingfantasy

Dirt Beneath The Cobbles

London did not make itself an easy city to love, Christina knew that better than most. She kept her eyes fixed to the cobbles underfoot and forced herself to ignore the flood of people crowded into the streets, their bodies pressing in on her as she picked her way past. The in-between ran across the bridges of London. It was the area where the nobility ventured out to gawk at the poor, worthless people who fell into the wrong side of London, and those same poor, worthless people lingered, hoping for scraps. Christina pulled the rim of her hat lower and shrugged past the small mobs of well dressed gentry, into the maze of narrow alleyways and filthy terraces beyond. Sidestepping the beggars who huddled in doorways she gripped onto her collar, hiding behind the discoloured leather. Here was where the unsavoury were kept out of sight, laws set out by men like Christina’s father, forbidding those ‘of less than pleasing appearance’ to step out into the main streets of London. Their presence was deemed too distressing …

Free Write Friday: Balanced On A Blade’s Edge

Things rarely ended how Bellris intended. He’d kept his hood pulled low and his face in the shadows, but somehow they had noticed him. He hit the wall at the end of the alley and scrambled for purchase. The stone was wet with rain and too smooth for climbing. The crates stacked next to him were soft with rot and half collapsing into themselves, with little to offer anyone hoping to scale the sheer wall. He glanced back the way he’d come and the crowds still surging past the entranceway. Hallows’ Night. The same explosion of revelry every year and every year he found himself in the same position. ‘Bellris…’ Edget’s voice crawled inside his ear as the three shadows from the tavern emerged from the crowd, the rain shimmering in front of them. They came down the alley single file, their bodies too wide to fit them any other way. ‘Oh Bellris…’ The two behind Edget cackled and Bellris threw himself against the wall again, the skin on his fingers tearing as he fumbled for …

The Terrifying Life Of Henry Granger: Making Of Monsters

Granger Manor, England – 23rd June 1924 The 1920s Royals Royce Ghost exploded impressively. One moment it was whole and beautiful, the next- boom! Lying on the grass face up, Henry could still hear the echo in his ears, the shock-waves in his bones. He groaned and rolled, ignoring the sharp bits of metalwork burning and biting into his skin as he crawled onto his knees and tried to lift his head high enough to see what was left of the house. The front of it was a mess. The windows were bare, the glass shattered, the walls pockmarked with debris and the doors to the mansion blown inwards off their hinges. His arms trembled beneath his weight and gave out. He coughed and felt something move in his chest and then pain, all consuming pain, and suddenly he was coughing red onto the grass. He saw the shadow fall across him and there was a hand beneath his chin, another on his shoulder and he was looking up at a face he thought he’d escaped. …