‘No thanks. I’m flattered, but they say you’re a player.’
‘You confuse me with my brother.’
‘Sit still, please.’
A woody perfume exhales as I drag warm wax through his thick wavy hair.
His head pushes back against my fingers.
‘Tamed at last,’ he says, making eye contact in the mirror. #WriteCBC

Flickering candlelight pulses inside a half-open door, ajar enough to make out the harsh notes of a discordant piano. The crescendo fades as I’m drawn in. The pianist’s intense bloodshot eyes lock onto me as he smiles revealing teeth designed strip a spinal cord. #WriteCBC

Amongst the photos of handsome tanned men on scooters, a kids Cossack outfit and other detritus there's an untouched bolt of emerald green silk the last of mother’s bad conscious gifts. I wish for some of her spirit as I stitch myself a cheongsam and consider her final journey without me.#WriteCBC

As she waited for Valentin, George and Nicolas, Kizette admired the seascape. A woman sat serene amongst a small boatful of anxious men as the swirling sea threatened with a furious watery hand to upturn the vessel. #CBCWrite

As she waited for Valentin, George and Nicolas, Kizette admired the seascape. A woman sat serene amongst a small boatful of anxious men as the swirling sea threatened with a furious watery hand to upturn the vessel #CBCWrite

She pushes open the shed door with a touch of her finger. Moonlight glows on the rolled up nets and bottles of linseed oil lined up on shelves above cricket bats and croquet mallets. “And who are you?” a soft bass voice asks, before he pats a space on the wooden trunk beside him. #WriteCBC

“Do you think you can fix it?”
“I’ll have a go.”
She soaks up the unexpected pleasure of watching him work. On the stool engrossed in the sound of the tapping keyboard she’s not prepared for her sister’s return or her expression as she measures the level of intimacy she’s interrupted. #Writecbc

She hears a creak, as if an ancient door is opening. Fissures zig-zag the corner oozing a viscous juice over the bed. Her limbs, and her voice freeze, voiding her screams as armies of bloated spiders abseil into her mouth, dam her ears, and bind all but her terror in a silken straitjacket.#WriteCBC

The child sits up and reaches for a morning glory of the deepest royal purple. The coiled stem curls easily around her arm, its flower pretty against her wrist.Sunbeams slice through the trees’ canopy and hummingbirds loiter above a panther hunting amongst the rough barked tamarind trees. #WriteCBC

The penthouse’s enormous windows framed a shifting seascape. Hazy white light settled on pastel green sofas and bowls of creamy pink peonies. She inhaled their citrus perfume and read the artwork. Pleasure is easy. #WriteCBC

My current goal is to move on with my near-future dystopian story. (Before it actually happens.) Find a robust editor, and eventually produce something I might be pleased with.#WriteCBC

The cold outside wind bit into their flesh. A voice carried into the room drowning out her mother’s tears. It called on Ella to leave. ‘The warmth of your heart is proven,’ it proclaimed. ‘Now fight your own battles and seek your own delights.’ #5ActFestiveStory

Ella stretched out for the poker. ‘Mum I can’t reach.’ She grasped a salt-seller from the table instead. The ceiling beam cracked as she rubbed salt around her neck. Her mother cried out, ‘Enough! Christmas, you drunk. I can’t believe you voted Frosty the Lord of Misrule again. #5ActFestiveStory

‘The frost imp is free. Ella. He must have fled your aunt’s house. It’s foretold, if his heart is cold on his 2lst birthday all our water courses will ice up. We’ve 48 hours to find him and raise his temperature.’ She patted her pockets. ‘And I may have lost my charm-book.’ #5ActFestiveStory

A torrent of sobs and moans broke from her mother’s lips. The pained sounds a morse code of misery she had no key to. Her mother whispered, ‘The card’s mine, returned. You’ve a sister taken from me. I found their old register.’ Her tone hardened. 'We must find Christmas Castle.’#5ActFestiveStory