Genre

Steam Punk/ Victorian London


The dress was ridiculous.  It required several layers of petticoats just to keep it off the floor. She scowled with disgust as the corset was violently tightened at the back.

“I still don’t understand why you need to dress up so pompously.” His voice floated through the crack at the bottom of the door.

“Well, unlike you men, women have to look ‘presentable’. That means cursed dresses the size of the bloody clock tower!”  She spat through gritted teeth as the rest of her dress was tightened. “You can let him in now.” She muttered to her maid.

The door opened as she walked to the mirror and began brushing her hair.

“Wow. Emilia!”

Emilia turned around and glared at the young man who had now entered the room. He was wearing a tight-fitting tuxedo with white gloves and his green-tinted top hat under his left arm. The gloves hid a terrible secret. During the Great Fire of London he lost his right arm at the shoulder, in its place was a hydraulic arm. The technology was so advanced he needed a chip in his brain to operate it.  “Don’t laugh, Nathanael.”

“You look amazing.” He said, goggling at the size of her dress.

“That’s not like you.” She countered.

“Oh, you’re right. I bet you can’t kick my arse in that pompous dress, Emi.”

“You know I can.” Emilia stated and took off after him, the folds of her dress billowing out behind her.

Mystery

“Who the hell stole the last piece of cake!?” Jacob yelled from the kitchen.

In the lounge room, an empty plate on his lap, the boy looked down and quickly hid the plate under a pillow he was sitting on.

Jacob came into the room. His glasses were pushed up on the bridge of his nose, his hazel eyes glared at the boy through the lenses.

The boy looked up from his DSi Console for a brief moment before quickly going back to it, the volume increasing.

“Did you eat the last bit of cake, Deakin?” He asked slowly.

Deakin shook his head quickly. “Nope.”

Jacob folded his arms over his chest and leant down to he was eye level with the coal-haired boy. “Did you….eat the last piece?”

“Nope.”

Jacob straightened but continued to glower at Deakin.

“Oh for goodness sakes, Jacob! You have money, go out and buy a new cake and give up!” Their older sister’s voice trailed in from the office.

Jacob looked over his shoulder in the direction of the office before turning back, pushing his glasses up to the bridge of his nose with his middle finger and walked up stairs to his room.

</b>Fantasy</b>


“So, you’re a Sorcerer.”

“Yes.”

“And you never told the Royals of Locksmith about it?”

“No.”

“You’re a Xenonian.

“Yes.”

“How did you get the ability to perform Sorcery?”

“I was born with it.”

“Highly unlikely.”

Ryan scowled at the judge. He was tethered to the accusation chair with the strongest form of Sorcery he had encountered. Everyone in the room thought he was just a lowly commoner, someone who took frequent trips to Xenon, only two knew he was royalty.

“Your punishment for claiming to be born with the ability to perform Sorcery and not enlisting for the Locksmith Army Corpse will be a life-long sentence in Xenon Prison.”
Ryan’s breath stopped. He knew that prison, he had been in there. The screams, the howls of pain and sorrow. He didn’t want to end up in there.


Science Fiction


She breathed slowly as she watched the device. It was small, easily fitted to the pocket of her jacket. Never in her life would she even dream of traveling in time. But here she was, standing on the beach, a rucksack slung over her shoulder.

She took a deep breath, this was mental. But according to this time-frame, she was mental. She didn’t belong.

Slowly she clicked the gold button on the edge of the pocket watch and kept her breathing steady as a mist of blue curled around her.

Angst


He was covered in a cold sweat; his sheets were drenched and sickly to touch. His breathing heavy, he swung his legs over the side and tried to walk without the cane.

Instead he sprawled against the wall.

You’re legs are ruined, Matthew. You’ll never walk the same again.

Matthew scowled and gritted his teeth. His cane clanged along the tiles. It was the worst time for the Jews.

Nazis were everywhere. His sister had been taken to god-knows-where three months ago. That’s when the land mine rendered his legs useless.

Leaning against a wall he put his head in his hands and let tears roll down his cheeks.

Horror


“You’re a beautiful flower.”

Her breathing became frantic. She looked around for the source of the voice.

“Such a beautiful flower.”

A whimpering sob escaped her lips as she started running down the hall, passing a bed of red roses. A shadow fell across the wall at the opposite end of the hall, liquid dripped off its fangs and elongated claws. It moved down the hall after her, no body mass seemed to follow it.

The shadow plucked a flower off the floor.

The flower floated in the air, suspended by the shadow holding the flower’s shadow on the wall.
“Such a pretty flower.” It repeated, and crushed the flower in its liquid-black hands.

She stifled a scream as blood started to drip from the flower as it lay on the floor.

Hiding in a cupboard seemed to be the only way to get away from it. She could hear it breathing; she could hear it reciting its phrases over and over again.

“Such a delicate flower, such a pretty flower.”

“I’m a beautiful flower.” She suddenly found herself saying against her will. She clamped her hand over her mouth, tears sprang into her eyes.


It had her.  

Comedy


“Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

“It’s a gun.”

“You’re not happy to see me?”

“I’m also happy to see you, but why were you asking if I had a gun?”

“I’m not explaining it. The joke flew over your head.”

“You’re saying I don’t have a sense of humour?”

“Yes! You laugh at the weirdest things Alan but you don’t understand proper comedy!”

“I understand comedy! Tell me a joke, Lianna.”

“Knock, knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Doctor.”

“Doctor Who?”

“Correct.”

“…What?”

“Forget it.”


Space Cowboy


The little boy played with his bath toys, ducking the submarine under the water and making it leap through the air yelling “Whoooosh!”

“What are you playing, Connor?” The little boy’s mother came into the room with a fresh bottle of shampoo.

“Space-marine!” Connor replied with enthusiasm, throwing the submarine into the air again.

“Is it fun?”

“Yeah.”

“But—?”

“It would be better with a space cowboy too.”


Western

“I don’t understand western movies. Or TV shows.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN!?”

“Just that! I don’t understand them.” Kathryn complained to Jason as they sat on the lounge and a preview of a new Western movie popped up on screen.

“You mean you don’t understand them, or you’ve never seen them. Because if you don’t understand them, I’ll leave you alone.”

Kathryn blushed. “I’ve never seen them.”

Instantly Jason was up and scanning the DVD cabinet. “You’re watching ever western under the sun right now.”

Romance

“What’s wrong?” Skye asked, holding Cleo close as they lay on their bed.

Cleo’s shoulders shuddered slightly as she took a deep breath; “I—I saw you with Janice.”

Skye listened quietly. Her back was to him to he had to be incredibly quiet in order to hear her above her breathing.

“The way you looked at her—I thought, you had had enough of me.” Cleo started crying again.
“Hey,” Skye pulled her close and rolled her over so she was facing him. “You’re the only person I could ever see myself with.”

“But she’s so much prettier than me. How can you stay with me?”

“Because I love you. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

Cleo closed her eyes and shook her head, tears rolling down her face again.

Skye pulled her into his embrace and gently kissed the crown of her head.

“What is it?” She asked again, her voice muffled by Skye’s shirt.

“You’re eyes,” He leaned in and kissed her closed eyes, “you’re hands, shoulders, cheeks,” He punctured each statement with a kiss to the mentioned place.”

Cleo took another shuddering breath.

“I love you.” Skye said, kissing her lips tenderly.