Sword Play“Swords!” panted Natalia, hands wrapped around her kneecaps and hunched in over herself. “Who the hell comes after a person with swords.”Sword Play by parchmentgirl
“I think it was a Scottish claymore,” said Michael. “Fifteenth century and in really good nick by the looks of it.”
“I think you’re missing the bit where the chick with the pink Mohawk tried to take your head off.”
“She had a good swing. I’ll give her that.”
“HEAD! NECK! NEAR DECAPITATION!” spat Natalia! “Do I really need to repeat myself?”
“Well at least it wasn’t machine guns this time and you were rather good holding your own against her,” Michael shrugged.
“I had a piece of lead piping!” Natalia spat. “She nearly killed me!”
“But we got the hard drive,” he pointed out.
“Which crazy chick sliced in half with her sword before we took her down,” said Natalia dryly.
Watcher“I was a watcher,” he told her, grinding his cigarette into the bottom of the ash tray and using his free hand to push his sunglasses further up the bridge of his nose. “Always bloody watching,” he spat.Watcher by parchmentgirl
She wanted to ask what he’d been watching but somehow she felt her voice was not welcome at this conversation, at least not at this time, not right then.
“I watched them all,” he said and waved a hand at the crowds milling past. It was a weekend, hot and clear so the crowds had come flocking, spilling into the cobbled streets of her little town to raid the shops and tea rooms. She curled her fingers more tightly around her watery cup of tea.
“All of them!” he yelped, voice pitching. “I saw it all, each plot, each scheme, each grab for power. Tell me,” he said leaning in. “Tell me what you see in a crown?”
“Metal?” she guessed.
“Well of course, of course, but what else?”
Taking On The King“I think,” said Death, my bishop clattering onto the table-top as he slid his queen across the board, “that it takes a certain type of fearlessness to defy a King.”Taking On The King by parchmentgirl
“Oh really?” I asked, scowling at the three pawns that were all that was left of my defence, he was just playing with me now. “What makes you say that exactly,”
“Oh you know,” Death shrugged, knuckles now pressed into his jawline as he waited for me to make the next move, “they all generally end up in the same place.”
“Maybe,” I said, “but you never know, fearlessness might simply be some greater fear in disguise.”
I watched Death falter through my lashes.
“Oh,” he said quietly. “Perhaps.”
Grinning I slid one of my pawns forward.
“You’re still losing you realise?” said Death.
“Yeah I know, but I had you stunned for a moment there so I’m counting this game as a victory anyway.&
RoachRoach had never given up on praying, even in the trenches he’d managed to find some hope in reciting the Lord’s Prayer whenever the whistle blew out somewhere along the line even if it was his turn to go over the top or not.Roach by parchmentgirl
Back at home things were different.
He watched the vicar mouth silent words, the sound slipping past as if he was watching the service through a thick sheet of glass and when the congregation knelt his knees seized, leaving him hunched over the pew in front his hands clawed around the carved wood. His wife wrapped her hand around his wrist to pull him down, her voice hissing in his ear that there were people looking, what did he think he was doing?
He didn’t tell her that here in the church their words were mute and wrong, that they did not lend his strength or courage, what would have been the point in telling her any of that when this was all she’d ever known.
In Warmer Climes"Pass us that hat would you?" Death asked, "These midges seem to be making a buffet out of my scalp."In Warmer Climes by parchmentgirl
"You sure?" Looking at the hat he was referring to I wondered if it was more than the midges getting to him. Hot countries always left him a bit, well, off.
"Just hand it over already."
I shrugged but did as he said. The previous owner didn't seem to mind too much, but then again he was already halfway across the Otherside and what was left was raw meat about to turn bad.
"Five more," I said. "Then we're done."
Fish Or Ferry“No.” said Serena slowly, doing her best to annunciate and raise the decibel level with each syllable. "That wasn’t what I meant."Fish Or Ferry by parchmentgirl
"Oui!" replied the French man enthusiastically from behind the market stall, fish still in hand as he gesticulated wildly. "Le poisson! Oui! Oui!"
"Non. Non." Serena felt the blush creeping up her throat as people began to stare. "Non poisson. Non poisson! Non Francey! Noney Francey!"
"I don't want the bloody fish!" Serena screamed, throwing her hands onto her head and scrunching the large-brimmed sunhat between her fingers. "I asked where the ferry was! The ferry!"
Waiting Below“So the place has really gone to crap.” McGregor said, arms folded across his chest as he leant against the wall. We were still stood on the platform, him on one side and myself at the furthest point away from him that I could find. I glanced up at the ladder to see if Thomas was visible yet.Waiting Below by parchmentgirl
“Yer, I suppose so.” I said. “Don’t really know much different though. Been this way for a while. When it started some people put it down to a nationwide funk that we’d all snap out of eventually.”
“You don’t say?” McGregor’s eyes narrow as he looks at me. “So what happened?”
“Harrington.” I told him.
“And Headquarters?” McGregor asked.
“Those who could got out. Those who stayed were beheaded.”
“You’re joking right?” he said, chuckling slightly.
Shaking my head I reached for the railings behind me and curled my fingers around them.
“Harrington showed it on
Valentine's Day“Not quite roses I’m afraid but it will have to do.”Valentine's Day by parchmentgirl
I looked up to see Thomas leading two of the guards into the Warren, Harrington’s chancellor slung between them.
“You shouldn’t have.” I told him, falling into step as they walked down to the pit. “It isn’t Valentine’s Day.”
The CatwalkJamerson called it the catwalk. A strip of metal three foot across that ran from Saint Mary’s Tower to the Maltings, weaving in and out of ruined buildings. Thomas was hunkered down about halfway along, eyeing something that I couldn’t see yet through the rifle sights. He pulled the trigger once, a pop then shattering glass, someone, something howling beneath us.The Catwalk by parchmentgirl
He swore, shifting the rifle slightly to his left as if hoping to take aim again.
“They’ll of scattered.” I told him, drawing level with his position. “Hit anything?”
“Not enough.” he scowled, shouldering the rifle as he stood.
Something BrewingGrant lowered the maps quietly onto Sasha’s desk and turned to leave the room at the same steady pace that he’d used to sneak in.Something Brewing by parchmentgirl
“How did the scans not pick up their presence, how did they creep under our radar, how did we not know about this Grant?”
Stringing together an eclectic concoction of curses in his head, Grant stopped and spun around to face Sasha, the surveillance screens shimmering in front of her as they switched from location to location.
“At least you got you brother out alive and we have now been alerted to the threat, I think a plan of action instead of questioning your performance as leader of Headquarters might be a more productive use of your time right now, don’t you?”
He watched as the muscles in her jaw started their off-key dance and held his breath, he suddenly didn’t want to know what plan of action was about to roll off his boss’ tongue.
Miss Carol J Forrester|
Born in Shropshire, England, Miss Forrester is currently studying History at Bath Spa University.
With poems published in ‘Here and Now’ by United Press, ‘Express Yourself’ by Young Writers and a self-published collection titled ‘Before The Words Run Out’, poetry was always her first passion. However, with plans for a collection of short stories to be published within the next few months and numerous novels currently at the half-way stage; she is no stranger to prose.