Existing in a Different World
Author: G. Jefferies
On the next waking he sensed his grip on the past failing fast. All save one that came to him in a dream deep inside the unconscious abyss. The girl he saw was bewitched and vacant. Her dress ripped down to the waist exposing skin and breast red with blood that seeped from two wounds in her neck. Runes were etched on each wall and upon the floor was drawn a massive pentagram whose points were connected by a circle of white. Continue reading “Dead Man Walking III”
Author: G. Jefferies
It was one of those crisp September mornings. The sort where early morning dew hangs from spider webs. Dangling on each strand of silk creating creating eerie artwork that only nature can produce with unabashed genius.
Back in the day of single paned windows condensation dabbed the glass next to the side jambs in an inverted arc that carried toward the sill. Asking mould to grow if no-one exercised the leathers to dry them off. Continue reading “Of Wine, Nature and Elegies in Oak”
#Author: G. Jefferies
On 16 June 1980, Chris Yates smashed the UK carp record with a 51.5 lb. leviathan from Redmire Pool in Herefordshire, England. For years as young inbetweeners in the late 80’s the awe of super sized carp remained an elusive fantasy with captures of significantly smaller fish restricted to all things under 5 lb. Big fish were the stuff of dreams, full of magic and unattainable mystery; at least until we found Crakemarsh Pool. An old estate lake sat in the grounds of an ancient abandoned manse crumbling in neglect and despair. Continue reading “Ghost Carp”
Author: G. Jefferies
Swamps are also places of the dead. Gorged with the remains of trapped souls and beasts forever dwelling beneath false ground. Dark magic filling them with wisps of ghost light and faces of the drowned. Mists creeping through twisted roots and spider webs. Hypnotising the unwary and drawing them in…
© G Jefferies and Fictionisfood, 2016. All rights reserved.
Author: G. Jefferies
“What are you doing in my house?”
The words stirred Amelie Hamilton from a dream about a dog she had grown up with as a child. Griff, a golden retriever and long walks in fields where it always seemed to be sunny and cool at the same time. One of those memories where hay-fever didn’t exist. It was hot, but not sweltering and being an adult was a long way off. Continue reading “The Room That Swallows People”
