Schrödinger’s Cat

In a departure from the usual topics, today I want to tell you all about Schrödinger’s cat. Of course, Schrödinger is not really the owner of this particular cat. In fact, I’m not sure what her name is, but since this is one of those real life stupid stories, I thought you might like to hear it.

The story starts months ago when a ginger and white cat started showing up at our front door. Now, we already have cats and they weren’t particularly pleased with this new development. Of course, Mr Ginger wasn’t bothered by this.

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WordPress, Drinks, #Spn, & Freebies

Hopefully this has posted to Facebook. As some of you may or may not be aware, I’ve been having trouble getting my blog to post there. It seems that good old Facey keeps denying links to Blogger, which is incredibly annoying and part of the reason why I’m hoping to get a brand new website up and running soon.

In the interim, I’m crossposting my blogs both on Blogger & at a temporary WordPress account. You can visit the posts at either location, but, obviously, I’m hoping that we will have a better solution sooner rather than later.

Keeping it in the family, my brother and his girlfriend, Amelia Louise Carter (also a writer), are the guys that I have entrusted to create me the new website, so I really hope you’re all going to love it when it is complete. I will keep you updated on its progress.

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Flash Fiction No. 66

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Rehearsed Sickness

The body in the chair sat at an awkward angle, lips mismatching. The shadows of the room arched and hollowed its face. Sunken eyes stared unseeing at the floor.

Fingers ran over his flesh, which crumpled and flaked as if touched by paint stripper.

The smell had reached her nostrils so many times before, decay and decomposition. It was disturbingly delicious. She patted her pocket where loose tablets jingled. She was supposed to take them every three hours to stop the manifestations and dampen her powers, but where was the fun in that?

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Flash Fiction No. 61

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Red Pill or Blue Pill?

Blood spluttered from her lips as she lay sprawled across the grimy tiles, crimson blotting too pale skin. The pills sat scattered out of reach.

Her fingers feebly clasped on air. She closed her eyes, dry lips moving in silent prayer. One arm clutched about her burning stomach, she struggled to get closer to the pills, but every time she moved they seemed to get further away.

“Get up.”

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