Posted inCreative Hall Short Stories
Foxglove
When she opened her eyes, all she could see was blue. Her head throbbed something fierce, like she’d fallen face-first into the wrong end of a blender. It took a…
Posted inCreative Hall Short Stories
Unseen Hues
Cian The night cloaked us in a moonlit chill as I sped down the cherry-petalled boulevard. Crisp, spring air filled my car when Kael rolled down his window. His second-last…
Posted inCreative Hall Short Stories
The Lone Hyacinth
“My Fair Lady cloaked in deep royal purple, How is life over yonder? A place between the heavens and below, What a place to rest, to respite, to rise.” A…
Posted inCreative Hall Short Stories
The Shop Downtown
It was a strange and terrifying feeling to forget your own name. “H-harrows, I mean, uh—Harry Hollows.” It was supposed to be my first day of work at the local…
Posted inCreative Hall Short Stories
The 13th Hour
The mantelpiece clock let out a low mechanical sigh, Then plunged at full speed into its twelve wailing chimes, The silence was disrupted by the ripple of sound waves, Like…
Posted inCreative Hall Short Stories
Hyacinth Lane
It is often felt, and less remarked upon, that the most bothersome thing in the world is to wait. It requires both patience and a strong mind to allow enough…
Posted inCreative Hall Short Stories
Dead Letter Office
Memory is like a moth. It flutters. It drifts. It finds an abandoned wardrobe of precious clothes to nest and gorges itself, leaving behind the gift of dust and scraps.…