A Decade Short: Stories

Christmas Eve and in the dimmed street all the lamps were alight, alive and all seemed to breathe.   Every child was a sleep part from one little boy, who had been eating sweets, playing with old toys.   A rub on tattoo of a jolly man rested on his arm with rosy cheeks, blue eyes and a slightly cracked smile.   Our hero will soon be this young boy in a world he has yet to discover but one we will shortly get to see. ‘What was the problem?’   Our young hero thought. ‘Have I drank so much milk that my belly wants to stay up and talk?’   Down below his bedroom there was an open fire, with crackling chestnuts, one that our young hero desired.   ‘Just a few treats’, he thought. Maybe his stomach would stop its howls, with a few toasted chestnuts and some soothing toots from the clock shaped like an owl. Alas, just as he was about to wake up there was a crash, noise another noise followed a ratty tat tat.   Lucky for him there was a sword was on the wall, he quickly pulled it from its sheav

Few realise the real extreme of what aliens can really do to our planet. I was wrong to assume they would come in peace or just show their friendly faces and disappear again till we next need them, it was definitely an ideal dream; I see that now. I remember, it wasn't too long ago when they fist came. Me and some friends were looking in a abandoned factory, the insides were dirty and unkempt, we loved it. We wanted to explore more of it, the hollow rooms felt like a playground to us, the final room lead to a floor which lead to us to a garden like that of a terrace house. And surrounding it were just that, terrace houses, lined synchronised with the gardens lined just the same. The gardens would have appeared like a green field to an onlooker. We were happy, we knew where we were going, we had been in that abandoned factory before, it was a place to be in the sorrowful little town we lived. It was an old factory none the less the houses were built long after

I’d just been working all night it was about three in the morning. I was offered some stools and as I had just moved house I didn’t dare say no. On my walk back the city life was dying and I was walking pass lowering shouts and drunken screams. I had two relatively heavy stools in each hand, my arms feeling like they’ll result looking like metal polls from the weight. The city’s centre had just held a food festival and the stalls were still erect but randomly placed making the streets look like an obstacle course. I look around and the only soul insight was a group of drunks I quickly walk pass. I walk up to a large chain supermarket and out of the ally next to it came an intoxicated skin head. He wore an overly large shirt and jeans what fitted and stopped just before his heavy boats. I become unsteady and nervous and begin to think that I could use the market stalls as a way to lose him. I figure if I do it very subtly then I won’t offend me, hence not beat me