Magenta's back in the world of the (21st century) living, for the moment.
Meet her for brekkie in Borough Market.
Suck the love in her head.
Who are you, you bastard?
Wednesday, 30 December 2009
Tuesday, 29 December 2009
Grub Up by Lily Childs (c)
Vanessa was skeletal. I could barely get any meat off her bones so I just gnawed away at the stringy flesh. I sighed. I’d starve at this rate.
I sat back and surveyed the remains of my late cousin. Apparently she didn’t know I have certain tastes. And that I’ve been particularly hungry lately.
I was still ravenous, but I knew it was risky to go out hunting because I get careless going in for the kill. Yet thoughts of feeding made saliva drip in my mouth, washing my gums, plumping my tongue.
I hesitated. No. I couldn’t do it; it was too dangerous. I’d have to go without. Dejected I slumped down onto the threadbare sofa, then jumped as the phone rang. Snatching it off its cradle I answered.
‘Who is it?’
‘Is she there?’
‘What?’ I didn’t recognise the voice.
‘It’s Ben, Vanessa’s boyfriend. I’m outside your building. Is she there?’ My heart smiled and I spoke to the pining lover.
‘Yes Ben. She’s here. She’s sitting in the corner. Come on up – we’ll wait for you.’
I replaced the receiver and lingered by the window, watching. The juices were already stirring in my belly.
_________________________________________
I sat back and surveyed the remains of my late cousin. Apparently she didn’t know I have certain tastes. And that I’ve been particularly hungry lately.
I was still ravenous, but I knew it was risky to go out hunting because I get careless going in for the kill. Yet thoughts of feeding made saliva drip in my mouth, washing my gums, plumping my tongue.
I hesitated. No. I couldn’t do it; it was too dangerous. I’d have to go without. Dejected I slumped down onto the threadbare sofa, then jumped as the phone rang. Snatching it off its cradle I answered.
‘Who is it?’
‘Is she there?’
‘What?’ I didn’t recognise the voice.
‘It’s Ben, Vanessa’s boyfriend. I’m outside your building. Is she there?’ My heart smiled and I spoke to the pining lover.
‘Yes Ben. She’s here. She’s sitting in the corner. Come on up – we’ll wait for you.’
I replaced the receiver and lingered by the window, watching. The juices were already stirring in my belly.
_________________________________________
First published on Thrillers Killers n Chillers May 2009
Monday, 28 December 2009
Resolutions or achievable plans?
I'm gonna really go for it this year. I've been writing for so long but hadn't realised how much it is a part of my very core since deciding to 'go serious' at the beginning of 2009.
So:
I WILL write and submit lots more work
I WILL earn some money from it
I WILL finish the novel
I WILL do something more with Magenta Shaman, now she's come back to me (the Aeon Award didn't want her). Update - Tuesday 29th December - and we're off. Someone's crept into Magenta's head, and into her bed...
I WILL revisit older novels I've started
I WILL do something with an eerie 17th century tale of cannibalism and debauchery that's been playing in my mind for years - if I can face it
I WILL diversify
I'll add that I want to get fit, healthy and slim, but you've got to draw the line somewhere. SlĂ inte!
So:
I WILL write and submit lots more work
I WILL earn some money from it
I WILL finish the novel
I WILL do something more with Magenta Shaman, now she's come back to me (the Aeon Award didn't want her). Update - Tuesday 29th December - and we're off. Someone's crept into Magenta's head, and into her bed...
I WILL revisit older novels I've started
I WILL do something with an eerie 17th century tale of cannibalism and debauchery that's been playing in my mind for years - if I can face it
I WILL diversify
I'll add that I want to get fit, healthy and slim, but you've got to draw the line somewhere. SlĂ inte!
Friday, 18 December 2009
A recommendation
Lee Hughes' latest episode in his diabolical series The Osseus Box 'The Path of Flames' is now up at TKnC (Thrillers Killers n Chillers).
It's a garden of very unearthly delights. Read it...
It's a garden of very unearthly delights. Read it...
Fashion Victim by Lily Childs
Thought I'd 'up' this story. It was the first one I submitted to Thrillers Killers n Chillers, and is close to my heart.
Excerpts
...The built-in contraption which projected stiletto daggers into my waiting hands was rather ingenious, if I didn’t say so myself. Indeed I didn’t say so, but held my hands aloft with the thin blades lying patiently against my palms, breathing in the adoring fans and shaking my head in mock protest at the praise being cast upon me...
...She disgusted me but I took her head in my hands and returned the embrace anyway. The sharp blades flicked easily from their clasps, and I swiftly sliced both sides of her throat without letting go...
Size zero? Have some pie, for God's sake.
Excerpts
...The built-in contraption which projected stiletto daggers into my waiting hands was rather ingenious, if I didn’t say so myself. Indeed I didn’t say so, but held my hands aloft with the thin blades lying patiently against my palms, breathing in the adoring fans and shaking my head in mock protest at the praise being cast upon me...
...She disgusted me but I took her head in my hands and returned the embrace anyway. The sharp blades flicked easily from their clasps, and I swiftly sliced both sides of her throat without letting go...
Size zero? Have some pie, for God's sake.
Wednesday, 16 December 2009
Softly by Lily Childs
My latest tale 'Softly' on Thrillers Killers n Chillers is being called 'sick'. I couldn't wish for a better accolade.
Why not take a look? I'd probably recommend not having your dinner while your read it.
Excerpt:
‘He just, sort of crawled off me. I tried to talk to him but the words wouldn’t come. He didn’t even look at me, he just ran down the hall to the bathroom where I could hear him chucking his guts up over and over again.’
That's all you get - any more would give it away.
Why not take a look? I'd probably recommend not having your dinner while your read it.
Excerpt:
‘He just, sort of crawled off me. I tried to talk to him but the words wouldn’t come. He didn’t even look at me, he just ran down the hall to the bathroom where I could hear him chucking his guts up over and over again.’
That's all you get - any more would give it away.
Sunday, 13 December 2009
Magenta Shaman
Magenta Shaman wasn't shortlisted for the Aeon Award.
Oh well, it's been one of those weeks. I believe in her anyway. :(
Oh well, it's been one of those weeks. I believe in her anyway. :(
Thursday, 10 December 2009
New Lily Childs story 'Face Off' and welcome to new horror E-Zine
Thanks to Coly Bury for publishing my latest short story, Face Off, over at Thrillers Killers 'n' Chillers.
Excerpt:
I keep it in a bag, my face. It hides there of a night when I slumber and dream.
I pull my hair back and look at the bare-faced lie reflected back at me in the mirror. A blank canvas. I could do anything with it. I could be anyone.
But I want to be me. I’ve always wanted to be me, not her.
The ritual begins.
Very pleased to hear about T R Shaw's new horror e-zine for women writers 'A Darker Spirit'. It's a brilliant initiative, and I wish her every success with it.
Excerpt:
I keep it in a bag, my face. It hides there of a night when I slumber and dream.
I pull my hair back and look at the bare-faced lie reflected back at me in the mirror. A blank canvas. I could do anything with it. I could be anyone.
But I want to be me. I’ve always wanted to be me, not her.
The ritual begins.
______________________________________________
Very pleased to hear about T R Shaw's new horror e-zine for women writers 'A Darker Spirit'. It's a brilliant initiative, and I wish her every success with it.
Hope to submit some pieces myself!
Thursday, 3 December 2009
Can I Get A Witness?
Somebody, somewhere; tell me this ain’t fair but it seems to me that what you write in a song has a nasty way of turning into a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Take it from me, Kurt Cobain did have a gun – denying it even as he sang Come As You Are. Amy? Well… Rehab was just waiting with open doors.
I sat there, thinking about the late, great Marvin Gaye; his smooth moves, his velvet voice - begging for a witness. When his own father blasted him away, no-one saw a thing, ‘xcept Mama.
The pen twitched in my hand. Sod it. I wrote it down anyway.
“She wouldn’t tell me what they’d said.
‘You lied’ she cried.
She slammed the hilt against my head.
‘I tried’ I lied.
She shot me dead.”
Clare stood at the kitchen door, moist mascara blackening beneath sad eyes. The pistol in her snowy-white hand didn’t surprise me. I knew she hated my lazy, cheating arse.
I stood, and shrugged. What was there to say? The lyrics fell from my lap to the floor. I took a step towards her, not bothering to say sorry.
You know the rest…
This story was the winner of the November 2009 'One Word Challenge' from Writing Magazine's online forum 'Talkback.'
Writers are given a single word and must produce a piece of flash fiction in 200 words or less, or a poem in 40 lines or less. November's word was 'Witness.'
You can see my poetry entry at http://micheleranger.blogspot.com/2009/12/who-sees.html
Take it from me, Kurt Cobain did have a gun – denying it even as he sang Come As You Are. Amy? Well… Rehab was just waiting with open doors.
I sat there, thinking about the late, great Marvin Gaye; his smooth moves, his velvet voice - begging for a witness. When his own father blasted him away, no-one saw a thing, ‘xcept Mama.
The pen twitched in my hand. Sod it. I wrote it down anyway.
“She wouldn’t tell me what they’d said.
‘You lied’ she cried.
She slammed the hilt against my head.
‘I tried’ I lied.
She shot me dead.”
Clare stood at the kitchen door, moist mascara blackening beneath sad eyes. The pistol in her snowy-white hand didn’t surprise me. I knew she hated my lazy, cheating arse.
I stood, and shrugged. What was there to say? The lyrics fell from my lap to the floor. I took a step towards her, not bothering to say sorry.
You know the rest…
(c) Lily Childs November 2009
_______________________________________
This story was the winner of the November 2009 'One Word Challenge' from Writing Magazine's online forum 'Talkback.'
Writers are given a single word and must produce a piece of flash fiction in 200 words or less, or a poem in 40 lines or less. November's word was 'Witness.'
You can see my poetry entry at http://micheleranger.blogspot.com/2009/12/who-sees.html
Tuesday, 1 December 2009
All the best...
If it wasn't for Matt Hilton and Col Bury's TK'n'C I wouldn't be as enthusiastic about writing as I am today.
Far from the tea-sipping, jam sponge-munching grannies worshipping the local vicar I was scared the 'writing community' was, I have found reason, treason, misreason and unbelievable honesty in all the writers I have met since going heavy at the beginning of this year.
They are:
If you want to see any of my own stuff on TK'n'C, click here. Apparently it's, erm... rather shocking. I'm so glad.
Far from the tea-sipping, jam sponge-munching grannies worshipping the local vicar I was scared the 'writing community' was, I have found reason, treason, misreason and unbelievable honesty in all the writers I have met since going heavy at the beginning of this year.
- Mat Hilton, best selling author of Dead Men's Dust and Judgement & Wrath Website/blog
- Col Bury, co-editor of TK'n'C, destined for great things in noir TK'n'C | Website/blog
- Lee Hughes, by the Goddess, you need to read his stuff. It twists with dark excitement. TK'n'C | Website/blog
- David Barber, dark, clever and horridly humerous. TK'n'C | Website/blog
- A.J. Humpage - AJ's writing is terrifyingly piercing. I defy your heart not to scream in terror or emotion. TK'n'C
- Pixie J. King.Watch this girl. She may be young but she never fails to stun with her insights. TK'n'C | Website/blog
If you want to see any of my own stuff on TK'n'C, click here. Apparently it's, erm... rather shocking. I'm so glad.
Saturday, 28 November 2009
Fad
I build upon
My soft grotesque
Stomach in and
Belly out.
Rippling flab,
Fat flesh, stout.
Misconception,
Dissillusioned.
Slimming words
Fell from my mouth,
Losing weight.
Redundant tits,
Pointing south.
My soft grotesque
Stomach in and
Belly out.
Rippling flab,
Fat flesh, stout.
Misconception,
Dissillusioned.
Slimming words
Fell from my mouth,
Losing weight.
Redundant tits,
Pointing south.
(c) Lily Childs November 2009
Original Artwork 'Tulip' in pen and ink by Laurence Ranger (c)
Original Artwork 'Tulip' in pen and ink by Laurence Ranger (c)
Tuesday, 24 November 2009
Milestone looming
Only 5,000 words to go until I'm at the halfway stage. Am aiming for 100,000 words which I'll then rabidly edit and crop once the first draft is typed up. I know I then need to elaborate in many areas, which will bring the word count back up again. I also need to do some final research, and interview local police - offers, anyone?
I typed up a diabolical little number today, which is coming together nicely. He's such a show off.
I had a bit of an epiphany on my original novel today. It's been sitting in the drawer for years now, waiting for the next step. Think I've got it (which will please certain people). Something to move onto once the current one is finished.
I typed up a diabolical little number today, which is coming together nicely. He's such a show off.
I had a bit of an epiphany on my original novel today. It's been sitting in the drawer for years now, waiting for the next step. Think I've got it (which will please certain people). Something to move onto once the current one is finished.
Sunday, 22 November 2009
The Book
The past is coming back to haunt Alex and the residents of a little Sussex village. Will she go the way of her forebears?
Alex has had the fright of her life but STILL she manages to carry on, and shut it out. She's a freak.
The police have more clues, as a victim remembers a key fact - one that saved their life.
Do you want more...?
Alex has had the fright of her life but STILL she manages to carry on, and shut it out. She's a freak.
The police have more clues, as a victim remembers a key fact - one that saved their life.
Do you want more...?
Friday, 13 November 2009
40,000 words
Hit the 40,000 mark on the novel today. Perfect for Friday 13th with lots of spooky teasers and a teeny weeny conspiracy going on.
Had a chat with resident spirit this evening. She's feeling a bit shy.
I'm fancying the film 'Paranormal Activity'. Is anyone planning to go see it?
Had a chat with resident spirit this evening. She's feeling a bit shy.
I'm fancying the film 'Paranormal Activity'. Is anyone planning to go see it?
Wednesday, 11 November 2009
Excuses, Witches and Reincarnation
Been a bit delayed lately. There have been power cuts, and lots of 'day job' work. I've been reviewing other writers' very clever fiction (you know who you are), and look forward to seeing a lot more from them.
Most interestingly, I have been researching in the National Archives for transcriptions of genuine witchcraft trials. Fascinating, yet tragic stuff for the healers and midwives who were accused of evildoing.
Some people will always be the scapegoats. I remember once, about 1440 it was - in Vieux Poitiers, France. I can still vividly recall how I was executed. But that's another story...
Most interestingly, I have been researching in the National Archives for transcriptions of genuine witchcraft trials. Fascinating, yet tragic stuff for the healers and midwives who were accused of evildoing.
Some people will always be the scapegoats. I remember once, about 1440 it was - in Vieux Poitiers, France. I can still vividly recall how I was executed. But that's another story...
Saturday, 7 November 2009
Back on the road...
The novel moves on.
Alex discovers something dodgy that explains a lot - and maybe we start to like her a little.
Meanwhile, a nasty person is getting frustated and frantic - at least one more victim is going to die at this rate. Yet someone is protecting the murderer.
______________________________________
Feeling very inspired by the hail storms outside and the creeking floorboards inside. A drip of Merlot slips from my lips and slides, slowly down my chin. I watch it stain my dress as it falls. Mmmmnn...
Alex discovers something dodgy that explains a lot - and maybe we start to like her a little.
Meanwhile, a nasty person is getting frustated and frantic - at least one more victim is going to die at this rate. Yet someone is protecting the murderer.
______________________________________
Feeling very inspired by the hail storms outside and the creeking floorboards inside. A drip of Merlot slips from my lips and slides, slowly down my chin. I watch it stain my dress as it falls. Mmmmnn...
Sunday, 1 November 2009
WELFARE AND SCHOOL GATES
Disclaimer (another one). The following flash fiction does not reflect the opinions of Lily Childs, or anyone else Lily happens to know/be.
____________________________________________
WELFARE AND SCHOOL GATES
They follow me home.
Trajectory reflections on wet, winter windows give them away. Sly expressions on sneering cold faces bear down on me; judging, accusing me.
‘Unfit mother.’
I stop suddenly. I pivot on sodden leaves; rain penetrates the holes in the soles of my boots.
There’s no-one there.
Yet they’re with me still as I reach my house. Living ghosts. Uninvited they knock, not at my door but inside my head. They pound on my walls with their criticisms.
I scream.
School letters with threats tear at my sanity. I question my ability to raise my children. I don’t blend in. I am not the pristine parent with neat, tight hair. My babies do not go to this club or that club. I do not want to meet up for frothy coffee with other mums who do not care to work for a living, and gossip about their uninteresting lives.
My sons and me… We don’t need the gazes of the snoots and the snoops. But they won’t leave us be.
Next time they hound me, I’ll lock us in, keep my boys with me, and never go out again.
Give them a real reason to hunt me down.
____________________________________________
WELFARE AND SCHOOL GATES
They follow me home.
Trajectory reflections on wet, winter windows give them away. Sly expressions on sneering cold faces bear down on me; judging, accusing me.
‘Unfit mother.’
I stop suddenly. I pivot on sodden leaves; rain penetrates the holes in the soles of my boots.
There’s no-one there.
Yet they’re with me still as I reach my house. Living ghosts. Uninvited they knock, not at my door but inside my head. They pound on my walls with their criticisms.
I scream.
School letters with threats tear at my sanity. I question my ability to raise my children. I don’t blend in. I am not the pristine parent with neat, tight hair. My babies do not go to this club or that club. I do not want to meet up for frothy coffee with other mums who do not care to work for a living, and gossip about their uninteresting lives.
My sons and me… We don’t need the gazes of the snoots and the snoops. But they won’t leave us be.
Next time they hound me, I’ll lock us in, keep my boys with me, and never go out again.
Give them a real reason to hunt me down.
Friday, 30 October 2009
Scuttle
If you wondered about the lady Carlotta from my nasty little short The Apprentice, then her tale is ready to be told.
Scuttle has just been published on Thrillers Killers 'n' Chillers.
It's not for the faint hearted. Don't say I didn't warn you...
Scuttle has just been published on Thrillers Killers 'n' Chillers.
It's not for the faint hearted. Don't say I didn't warn you...
Tuesday, 27 October 2009
Ghost Hunters
I'm really enjoying Sci-Fi's Ghost Hunters at the moment. Beats Most Haunted hands-down.
Love the way they discount everything before they'll accept it as possibly paranormal.
They're such a cool bunch of people.
Love the way they discount everything before they'll accept it as possibly paranormal.
They're such a cool bunch of people.
Monday, 19 October 2009
Latest Tale posted on Thrillers Killers 'n' Chillers
My latest short chiller, Ghost Story, has been published at http://thrillskillsnchills.blogspot.com/2009/10/ghost-story-by-lily-childs.html
Excerpts:
"I come at the behest of all souls who have trodden this Earth, who still roam her surface unseen – overlapping by the millions – to give you fair warning..."
"Leave your séances to the Victorian parlour. Why reach out for us? Why drag us back when we do not want to return?.."
"The isolated, heady-scent of Damask Rose in a single spot in your house; water tumbling from washer-tight taps; a freezing cold finger at the nape of your neck in the heatwave of summer..."
___________________________________________
I think 'The Narrator' in the tale agrees with Mr Brown for once - there is no Plan B.
Excerpts:
"I come at the behest of all souls who have trodden this Earth, who still roam her surface unseen – overlapping by the millions – to give you fair warning..."
"Leave your séances to the Victorian parlour. Why reach out for us? Why drag us back when we do not want to return?.."
"The isolated, heady-scent of Damask Rose in a single spot in your house; water tumbling from washer-tight taps; a freezing cold finger at the nape of your neck in the heatwave of summer..."
___________________________________________
I think 'The Narrator' in the tale agrees with Mr Brown for once - there is no Plan B.
Sunday, 18 October 2009
Ghost Hunting
I want to hear your experiences of ghosts and spirits. What did you see, hear or feel? Where did this happen? When did it happen? Did anyone else experience this?
Add your comments below, or fill in my contact form at http://www.lilychilds.co.uk/contact.php
I might use your experience for some of my characters in a forthcoming novel (unless you object.)
Additionally, if I get enough responses I might consider an anthology.
Add your comments below, or fill in my contact form at http://www.lilychilds.co.uk/contact.php
I might use your experience for some of my characters in a forthcoming novel (unless you object.)
Additionally, if I get enough responses I might consider an anthology.
Saturday, 17 October 2009
Col Bury - a crime writer's choice
Check out my virtual mate Col Bury's blog - Col Bury's New Crime Fiction. Very inspiring.
You might just find a couple of things on there by little 'ole me and some other maties.
You might just find a couple of things on there by little 'ole me and some other maties.
Tuesday, 13 October 2009
Feardom in Alex's house
All hell has broken loose. Last night's writing episode had me quaking in my (brand-new kinky) boots.
My own house was trembling; knocking. I felt like I was being watched - I'm sure I am.
My own house was trembling; knocking. I felt like I was being watched - I'm sure I am.
Thursday, 8 October 2009
The novel - happenings
Alex is getting pestered. Her nasty side's getting a good knock on the head. But we're learning who she is and where she came from, the whys and the wherefores.
The police are onto her, but not in a way you might think.
Others are hovering, waiting to be noticed. Some are in the book; some are over my shoulder - vying for space.
More soon...
The police are onto her, but not in a way you might think.
Others are hovering, waiting to be noticed. Some are in the book; some are over my shoulder - vying for space.
More soon...
Thursday, 24 September 2009
Goldfish
Need some help please.
What food do goldfish like best? Is it plant based? Do they like a bit of MEAT in their diet?
What food do goldfish like best? Is it plant based? Do they like a bit of MEAT in their diet?
Friday, 18 September 2009
My Writing
I feel privileged that some of my writing has been published on Matt Hilton (Author of Dead Men's Dust) and Col Bury's Thriller Killers 'N' Chillers blog.
I'd love to hear what you think.
You can read a few of my stories to date. Excerpts below - just grab the link to read the full nasty little tale:
Scuttle. Oh, I so enjoyed writing this horrid little gothic number...
Ghost Story. Forget 2012...
I come at the behest of all souls who have trodden this Earth, who still roam her surface unseen – overlapping by the millions – to give you fair warning.
Welfare and School Gates. This one's here on the blog...
'Unft mother'
I stop suddenly. I pivot on sodden leaves; rain penetrates the holes in the souls of my boots. There's no-one there.
Slideshow. All very jolly hockeysticks:
‘So that was my trip to Windsor. Lovely gardens, aren’t they? Now, here’s my world falling apart. Look. See, you can just make out my husband’s feet sticking out from behind the sofa.
The Apprentice. Fangtastic flash fiction:
'...blood fell into his mouth from where it had congealed. He licked it, blending the flakes and his saliva into a sticky fluid.'
Watched. Don't mess with madness:
'They’re always there now, watching. I don’t know what they want. I don’t know what they’re waiting for.'
Fashion Victim. Death and horror on the catwalk:
'...I arranged for my guts to spill as I took my final step on the catwalk, models towering above my slight frame, praising and applauding me, all glittering in the darkness of my exquisite designs.
Grub Up. Short, 'flash fiction' story about a desperate hunger with particular tastes:
'Vanessa was skeletal. I could barely get any meat off her bones so I just gnawed away at the stringy flesh. I sighed. I’d starve at this rate.'
I'd love to hear what you think.
You can read a few of my stories to date. Excerpts below - just grab the link to read the full nasty little tale:
Scuttle. Oh, I so enjoyed writing this horrid little gothic number...
Ghost Story. Forget 2012...
I come at the behest of all souls who have trodden this Earth, who still roam her surface unseen – overlapping by the millions – to give you fair warning.
Welfare and School Gates. This one's here on the blog...
'Unft mother'
I stop suddenly. I pivot on sodden leaves; rain penetrates the holes in the souls of my boots. There's no-one there.
Slideshow. All very jolly hockeysticks:
‘So that was my trip to Windsor. Lovely gardens, aren’t they? Now, here’s my world falling apart. Look. See, you can just make out my husband’s feet sticking out from behind the sofa.
The Apprentice. Fangtastic flash fiction:
'...blood fell into his mouth from where it had congealed. He licked it, blending the flakes and his saliva into a sticky fluid.'
Watched. Don't mess with madness:
'They’re always there now, watching. I don’t know what they want. I don’t know what they’re waiting for.'
Fashion Victim. Death and horror on the catwalk:
'...I arranged for my guts to spill as I took my final step on the catwalk, models towering above my slight frame, praising and applauding me, all glittering in the darkness of my exquisite designs.
Grub Up. Short, 'flash fiction' story about a desperate hunger with particular tastes:
'Vanessa was skeletal. I could barely get any meat off her bones so I just gnawed away at the stringy flesh. I sighed. I’d starve at this rate.'
Thursday, 17 September 2009
Treachery
Dancing at the disco
Heart race, his face
Fast beat, my meatReaching at the disco
Touching at the disco
Our eyes, my thighs
Boys bet, toilet.
Bastard at the disco
Screwed me at the disco
Took love, too rough
Broke
My
Bleeding
Heart
(c) Lily Childs May 2009
Tuesday, 15 September 2009
Poem
Falling Down
Today brings tumbles, trips
And stumbles.
Running ever late.
Limbs are tangled.
Knees get banged, all
At my child's school gate.
Tears are hers, and
Tears are mine and
This does not bode well.
Time to exorcise
My demons.
Damn them all to hell.
'Leave my body'. Clumsy
Imps. 'Be gone.'
'Don't pester me.'
Blame my tired eyes,
Insomnia.
It's the death of me.
Today brings tumbles, trips
And stumbles.
Running ever late.
Limbs are tangled.
Knees get banged, all
At my child's school gate.
Tears are hers, and
Tears are mine and
This does not bode well.
Time to exorcise
My demons.
Damn them all to hell.
'Leave my body'. Clumsy
Imps. 'Be gone.'
'Don't pester me.'
Blame my tired eyes,
Insomnia.
It's the death of me.
(c) Lily Childs September 2009
Monday, 14 September 2009
Fairy Things
There are fairies in my house. I've seen them. They keep peeking at me. They're a lot taller than I expected - maybe that's the domestic fairy. The ones in the wild are definitely diddy.
I wondered today - if I could shape-shift, what would I become? And if I was a good enough shaman to become one creature, then why not another?
I wondered today - if I could shape-shift, what would I become? And if I was a good enough shaman to become one creature, then why not another?
*>*>*>*>*>*>>*<<*<*<*<*<*<
Slightly related to the above; although I am 23,000 words into the main novel - oh dear - I now have another on the go. It was meant to be a 5000 word short story but I couldn't get it down to less than 6200. And it ended with a beginning - so it's crying out to be a series.
If you like fantasy horror, bitter revenge and terrifying beasts with deadly, suppurating wounds - then this might appeal. It's called Magenta Shaman.
Sunday, 23 August 2009
New flash (Not news flash) fiction
Just had 'Slideshow' published on Thrillers Killers 'N' Chillers. A little bit of fun. Really.
Today's been one of those clumsy ones. I've been dipped in paint, and splattered with water. I put my camera in the fridge and made a cup of tea without a tea bag. Nice.
There's something buzzing in here, and I can't work out if it's a bee or a nasty fly. The former - it lives; the latter it dies.
*>*>*>*>*>*>>*<<*<*<*<*<*<
Today's been one of those clumsy ones. I've been dipped in paint, and splattered with water. I put my camera in the fridge and made a cup of tea without a tea bag. Nice.
There's something buzzing in here, and I can't work out if it's a bee or a nasty fly. The former - it lives; the latter it dies.
*>*>*>*>*>*>>*<<*<*<*<*<*<
Tuesday, 4 August 2009
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Lily Childs is a writer of horror, esoteric, mystery and chilling fiction.
If you see her dancing outside in a thunder storm - don't try to bring her in. She's safe.
If you see her dancing outside in a thunder storm - don't try to bring her in. She's safe.