Buckets In Southwark - up at Thrills Kills 'n' Chaos

A little while ago I wrote a new, twisted crime tale for the lovely David Barber's Thrills Kills 'n' Chaos ezine. And it's now up! It's called BUCKETS IN SOUTHWARK and is somewhat unpleasant, if I say so myself.

Please take a read. I'd love to hear your thoughts so do comment if you have time. Here are the opening lines...

Buckets In Southwark by Lily Childs

Cold wrists and a cold heart that barely dared beat, lest he think her willing. She let it tremble – he wasn't here today and for that she was truly grateful.

They peppered every spare space in the poorly-lit basement. She’d given up trying to count them because whenever he came down and did what he did to their tiny corpses, he’d throw them back into the room afterwards, discarding them, forgetting them until the next time he got the urge. Some lay at her broken feet now, gazing at nothing; once demure.

Read the full story...

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Flash Fiction Podcast - Me and The Boys!

A little while ago I was interviewed by Dion Winton-Polak and Phil Ambler on the subject of flash fiction for a podcast called Geek2Geek, which is part of The Geek Syndicate.

You can now download Geek to Geek - Issue 5 for free from iTunes

Our discussion starts at about 57 minutes into the podcast - you should be able to 'slide' to it. Our wonderful writer friends Matt Hilton, Col Bury, David Barber, A.J. Humpage and Sandra Davies all get a mention, as does The Prediction of course.

It'll be on the Geek Syndicate website soon too (it's got the wrong link on there at the mo. but this will be corrected shortly) so I'll add the link when that's up.

Additionally, there will be a longer version coming soon where we each do readings of our, and other people's work.... to be revealed ;-)

THE TROUBLE WITH MAGICK...

...is knowing which side you're on.

One of my demonlings had her say last night with this teeny tiny flash:

SCRY BABY

He has no eyes, the man staring down at me from the red, red walls. Yet his empty gaze burns my flesh. I pluck a petal from my skins – a gift. It drips with a watery honey, sweet and floral.

“Offer yourself to me.”

His is a voice from beyond. Its owner believes in magick, and it’s true he is adept at reaching our realms. I let him flounder; his words of power gain strength, drawing me towards his throbbing throat.

Quickly, I slip my nectar into his mouth. Magician or not, he will forever speak in tongues. 

Bane by Lily Childs

Original artwork by Laurence Ranger (c)
Copper drypoint etching

A dark, flash fiction tale of oral deceit...

BANE

Ten tales to terrify; Leofric gathers his words together in mind and mouth – and sets the sordid scene. Long had he travelled between battle-scarred lands and darker realms; some had feared the storyteller dead, but now around him children and warriors sit enthralled, with eyes ablaze.

Silence, but for the crackle of flaming logs in their pit.

Night begins its giddy dance, casting shadows over the crowds. Leofric’s humming resonates across the ground. It trembles into the seated thighs of all assembled to rise through their very being. Louder and louder the storyteller’s voice sings its single note until...

“Holler!”

The audience gasps. Children shriek at the sheer volume and slam pudgy hands over sensitive ears. Leofric stands as quickly as his aged bones will allow, raises his face to the sky and starts to talk.

Stories.

His first to third perturb, his face a shifting mask under the moon’s fleeting light.

Fourth to sixth disgust, another face for every tale he tells.

Seven and eight, his faces tear apart.

Nine, the face of a demon spills into the storyteller’s skin.

Ten, Aeglaeca steals every screaming face for himself.

***

The story writes itself.

Pestilence and plague.

The chronicles of death.

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