All posts tagged: humor

Save Yourself [Contains Swearing]

“You didn’t even try to save me!” Amanda gasped, hands clutching her knee-caps as if she’s afraid they may fall off onto the seed-weed strewn floorboards of the cabin at any moment. “You were fine,” Griffin drawled. He keeps his eyes fixed on the mechanisms of his gun, polish rag dropped in his laps as he tries to find whatever’s jamming. Before she walked in he’s been swearing twelve shades of blue and threatening to feed Jarred to the dogs. Who Jarred was she hadn’t got a clue. “You left me to drown!” she snapped, voice stronger now she wasn’t spitting up salt-water. “You were performing what looked like a pretty effective butterfly manoeuvre to me.” “I was flailing!” “And wonderfully so!” grinned Griffin. “Why didn’t you do something?” she demanded. “I could have died and then it would have been on you!” Griffin shrugged. “I could have tried to save you I suppose. However, I didn’t want to offend you.” “Offend me? How the fuck would you saving me from drowning offend me?” she …

Taking On The King

“I think,” said Death, my bishop clattering onto the table-top as he slid his queen across the board, “that it takes a certain type of fearlessness to defy a King.” “Oh really?” I asked, scowling at the three pawns that were all that was left of my defence, he was just playing with me now. “What makes you say that exactly,” “Oh you know,” Death shrugged, knuckles now pressed into his jawline as he waited for me to make the next move, “they all generally end up in the same place.” “Maybe,” I said, “but you never know, fearlessness might simply be some greater fear in disguise.” I watched Death falter through my lashes. “Oh,” he said quietly. “Perhaps.” Grinning I slid one of my pawns forward. “You’re still losing you realise?” said Death. “Yeah I know, but I had you stunned for a moment there so I’m counting this game as a victory anyway.” This started as my entry for Lilly McFerrin’s Five Sentence Fiction Challenge Fearless but instead it turned into something a …

Farm Archaeology

I seem to be starting my own mini-archive and I’m blaming my father for it. Well perhaps I shouldn’t be using the word blame, I actually love how interested my father gets in things from the past, but the issue is that I seem to take this love to another level and now I seem to be using the archivist skills from one year at my university archive to put together my own personal one. Do you remember the spoon? No? Well here: If you give it a click it will take you to the relevant ramble about my childhood obsession with digging. [I thought I was an archaeologist so read that as digging with intent. I wasn’t just digging some random hole, despite what the results may look like these days.] Anyway, I’ve gone off topic just as I always do, time to get back to the inspiration for this specific post. [Originally I was going to write about St. Swinthun’s Day and things my Grandad says but then I found out that St. …

The One

“I think I’ve made a mistake,” Hannah said, teeth biting into her bottom lip as she glanced at her mother’s reflection standing in the mirror behind her own. “How do you know when you’ve found the one?” “You just know,” shrugged her mother, stepping back to analysis the cut of Hannah’s hem before harrumphing and waving a hand to indicate she should turn around. “And if I don’t feel it,” Hannah asked. “Then we tell the shop assistant to bring you another and we see if that looks any better, it’s a dress dear, not the man you might marry.”  

Dangerous Sleeper

Have you ever elbowed someone in the throat while you slept? In my defence, I was aiming to elbow an extremely, infuriating housemate in the ribs, it just so happened that I was dreaming and my boyfriend rolled over to see what I was mutter about. (I talk in my sleep.) Hence elbow in the throat and a very, surreal wakeup. I can’t even claim that this was a one time affair. Both my boyfriend and I are quite active sleepers, rolling over, shifting about and blurting out random comments while we sleep. I wake up to find he’s rolled over and pinned me in my sleep, the other night I got kneed in the but and he’s always informing me of the various punches and elbows that I supposedly sent his way as I tossed and turned in the night. (Somehow sliding half-way down the bed is also a common occurrence with me. It really confuses him.) I’m not sure what I chatter on about in my sleep, but I’ll leave you with a …

Our Adventure

When I said we should try and be more adventurous I didn’t mean this. I thought maybe a curry instead of fish and chips, seeing if we could find where that path behind the garden shed led! I did not mean clinging to a stranger’s chest, sixteen thousand up, with only string and silk as a way down. This is a piece I wrote for a prompt that I set for a group I manage on Deviant Art. The prompt was to write a fifty word piece of flash fiction for “When I said *…* I didn’t mean…” I’m not sure what sort of response I will get but feel free to leave your own in the comments below.