One night stand

She had left holes in his life, big gaping holes that tugged at the edges of things and unravelled them. Strings and strands of memory and emotion, drawn into a swirling vortex that gave nothing back. The spaces on the hallway wall, where happy eyes had been, stared disapprovingly at him when he came home of an evening, chill wind ushering him through the door and whipping his coattails around his legs so the wet fabric stuck to him and sent ice creeping under his skin to reach fingers to the marrow of his bones.

Meant to be broken

Sophia’s father had always been a great stickler for rules. One of her earliest memories - him in his blue velvet armchair, her on his knee.

“Sophia,” he’d said, his whiskers tickling her cheek as he pointed at her drawing. “You’re outside the lines.”

“Only a little bit,” four-year Sophia had replied, a nascent pout tugging at her lips and furrowing her brow. It was only a smudge. Barely noticeable, really.

The baboon and the moon

Long ago, when the night was so dark it could swallow the world whole and leave no trace, there lived a baboon. He lived atop a tree so tall its branches caught on passing clouds, and he liked to watch other animals pass by and toss fruit skins at them. Animals did their best to avoid his tree, but the baboon was a clever one, always playing tricks on others, and he would often leave his tree to torment the other animals.

Teatime on the high seas

The pirates appeared out of nowhere, interrupting Commodore Teddward St. Teddington’s luncheon with characteristic rudeness and a severe lack of consideration for his scones. Luckily, the delicate floral-patterned china teacup proved to be an adequate weapon in a pinch, and his first mate Raug Doll quickly moved to help him. 

Theatre ghost

The orange tom, with its one milky eye, coughed out a single damp feather. It had to leap sideways to dodge a half-hearted kick from the Great Magician Quilin, which elicited a hiss from the cat and a disproving tut from old Due, who was sitting on his canvas sling chair and sucking on a eucalyptus mint. He always smelled like freshly cleaned library books, or a mucus-y head cold.

Mermaid’s Reef

Cappin Hargraves was an old seadog saltier than the ocean he sailed and twice as furious. His parents, with an abundance of optimism and severe shortage of tact, had named him with all the pride that parents feel for their children and hope for his future. But despite his name, Cappin had never made more than coxswain on the trawling merchant barges that dredged the stonereef bay, and with grey about the temples and milk starting to swirl in his eyes it was unlikely he’d rise any higher before the sea closed cold iron teeth on him.

Far in the frozen south

The waters carry secret truths which all who live in them know. The words are whispered amidst the silty particles of sand and drift softly up the estuaries, audible to those who know to listen. In the warm waters of the shallow ponds, the koi know the deepest truths and the most secret legends that the rivers keep in their hearts.

A duet sung solo

The decommissioned spaceport was silent, the air thick with the dust of untold ages. Every now and then a cosmic shard pinged off the hull before ricocheting into the vast expanse of space.