Departure in the Night

Here is something that a friend of mine wrote. He would really like some honest feedback. Let me know what you think.

A looming resonance thickens as the wooden hands meet, as if pressing the colder frost, like tiny spiders webs on the not so familiar glass. Twelve chimes mark the opening of a door and a departure in the night. For Beyond the sight of the soft candle light where imp shadows play with the imagined un-night, lays deeper murks with a thousand eyes.

A cloak of dark dressed those macabre creatures; those that hide in travelers peripheries, in the echoes of their footsteps upon the damp stone sidewalks, and most of all in the street lamps that fail with solitary proximity. The imaginary tendrils of night lurking somewhere unseen. Instinct and reason deviate as the rhythmic footsteps hasten. Not until sanctuary of a familiar door and behind it the hearth, do my invented watchers withdraw.

Mykh Day


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Posted by on October 23, 2013 in Poem, Short Story


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Dr Who Return of the…

Amy Pond followed The Doctor into the TARDIS. The door slowly closed itself behind them and Amy jumped at the sudden noise. She spun around to look at the door in case something had followed them in. There was nothing there. Amy’s skin crawled with the sensation of invisible bugs. “Well that was a disgusting world. I don’t want to be going back there any time soon.”

“Yes, well I guess you can say that a species that eats faecal matter is a bit disgusting.” The Doctor strolled over to the main console of the TARDIS and started flipping switches and pulling levers. “Where to next? How about Cheem to visit super intelligent trees? Or better yet, Florana, one of the universe’s most beautiful planets. The land is carpeted with an array of perfumed flowers, with seas of warm milk and sand as soft as fluffy sheep made of clouds.” The Doctor was looking at Amy with glee and anticipation in his eyes.

“Florana sounds immensely better than the planet we just visited. Let’s go there.” Amy quickly shot her hands out to grab the metal bar surrounding the main console and held on as tight as she could. Trips in the TARDIS were always bumpy. Amy wasn’t sure whether that was just the way the TARDIS was or it was the way The Doctor flew her.

The TARDIS moaned and groaned with the familiar sound of take off. The Doctor began to frown and in turn the TARDIS slowed down to a faint hum and then stopped. Amy let go of the metal bar and walked over to where The Doctor was standing. “Well that was anti-climactic. What’s the matter? Did we run out of gas?” Amy giggled at her own amusement.

“No, something is wrong.” The Doctor was still frowning as he yanked at a few more levers and pulled a computer screen down towards him. In big red letters on the screen it read – HELP!

Amy pulled the screen over towards herself, curious as to why The Doctor looked distressed. “Help… But who could that be from?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe if I can adjust the bi-lateral re-lay field and send out a signal of our own, I might just be able to trace the message back to its origin.”

“Okay, sure do that.” Amy replied not understanding a word The Doctor just said.

The Doctor crawled underneath the console and started tinkering around. “Can you get me my toolbox Amy? I think I left it in the secondary console room. You know the one next to the library.” The sound of his sonic screwdriver was already at work.

“Second console room? I don’t know where that is, but I do know where the library is.” Amy spun around on her feet and headed down the corridor and towards the library. It was still amazing to Amy Pond how enormous it was inside the little blue box. It was so big that she hadn’t even gotten a chance to explore everywhere. Amy hoped that she would be with The Doctor for a while yet and there would more opportunities to find out more about the TARDIS. At least she knew where the library was. Amy reached the library after turning down a few more corridors and looked to the door beside it. “Ah ha.. This must be the second console room,” she spoke out loud to no one in particular. Amy entered the secondary console room to find that it looked exactly like the first one at the entrance of the TARDIS. Amy wasn’t surprised, after-all time lords (well the only one she had met) seemed to have a back-up plan for their back-up plans. So why not a back-up room? Amy spotted the little red tool box sitting on the floor in the middle of the room. She started towards the box to pick it up, but mid-stride she froze, flabbergasted by the fact the box moved away from her. The sensation of invisible bugs crawling on her skin returned.

“Who’s there?” she shouted, taking a few steps back. No one replied. Amy waited a few minutes to see if anything else would happen, but nothing did. She thought about what had happened and decided it must be her mind playing tricks on her. ‘Too much time travelling,’ she thought. Shaking herself free of the invisible sensation of bugs, she picked up the toolbox and went back to The Doctor.




Posted by on June 29, 2013 in Short Story


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Flight of Icarus Draft 1 complete

The sun was at its most glorious point of the day. Fire and warmth spreading over the ground as it slowly started to sink into the Earth.

It had been a good day for the duck and her flock, food had been bountiful. Flies, beetles and dragonflies had filled their stomachs to the brim, leaving them without want of more. Now to head home, back to the nesting site, for a good nights rest. The ducks and drakes waddled in their usual formation of pairs. Two in front and two behind, this added a bit more protection from any predators lurking in wait. The duck waddled slowly beside her male partner, pleasantly knowing that they were nearly home, for it had been a long day and she was tired. The flock emerged from the growth of trees and arrived at the black rough ground. This ground was different from the brown dirt and the green grass. This black ground was burning hot on her webbed feet and wasn’t as soft. This ground always had big monstrous creatures soaring by on it, but this was the path they followed everyday. Even though the duck was terrified of these creatures, she would never leave her flock. The formation of the flock slightly changed into a line, one after the other as they crossed the black ground. The first two companions of her flock crossed the black ground, the large creatures roaring by as they passed. Her companions reached the green grass and waited patiently for her and her partner to cross. They both waddled quickly for the sun was going down.

Mystery sat in the car beside her friend as they turned out of his street and proceeded to make their way back to her house. It was a nice afternoon and the sun was gently setting on the horizon making her feel happy. This good feeling needed music to go along with it. Mystery reached for her Ipod, connected it to the cars stereo and hit shuffle. The first song to come up was Iron Maiden’s Flight of Icarus. It had an upbeat melody and seemed to suit her mood exactly. The chorus sang: ‘Fly on your way like an eagle, fly as high as the sun, on your wings like an Eagle, fly and touch the sun.’ Mystery was singing along to the song with a big grin on her face. It had been a great day, but it was slowly coming to an end. Mystery started to day dream, as she was gazing out of the front window she could see an array of grey, white and brown feathers floating slowly across the sky. That’s weird she thought. Her friend suddenly covered her eyes and said “Don’t look.” Her smile instantly faded. She knew what ‘don’t look’ meant. Some poor animal had been hit by a car. Mystery couldn’t count how many times growing up that these words had been spoken to her while she was traveling in a car; every time an innocent creature had been hit by a car and left behind to die a painful death. They pulled over to the side of the road. From what Mystery could gather, it seemed that the car ahead of them had hit two birds and had just kept driving. They both got out of the car to see if the birds had been injured or could be saved. As Mystery and her friend got closer it was evident that these birds were ducks; brown, white and grey feathered ducks. One was dead in the middle of the road, but another had been thrown free and was lying on the side, struggling and fluttering. Mystery’s heart sank. Another car pulled over to the side and two men got out and asked if Mystery and her friend needed any help. One of the men picked up the lifeless limp bird in the middle of the road and threw it into the bushes as if it was a piece of garbage that needed disposing of. Mystery’s friend yelled at her to go fetch an old gym towel from his car so he could wrap the injured bird in it. She ran quickly to do as she was told as there was still hope that they could somehow save this poor duck. As she ran to the car she tried to envision herself as the duck and how scared and confused it must be. She could only imagine. She also wondered what kind of person could hit a couple of ducks and just keep driving. Holding the towel and running back to her friend and the duck, she could see two other ducks on the grass walking back and fourth. These ducks were making loud quacking sounds and fretting. Mystery could see that these ducks knew something bad had happened and that their friends were gone. With tears in her eyes Mystery handed the towel to her friend to wrap the duck in. The ducks neck looked broken, but it was fighting for its life.

What had happened? The duck couldn’t move, she was in shock. There were strange creatures standing around her. She had seen them before but had always tried to keep clear of them. One of the creatures started to approach her and that is when everything turned black. The duck was scared. She couldn’t see anything. What’s happening? She started to struggle and flail. Every part of her body hurt, but maybe she could break free and escape.

Mystery held the towel and the duck in her lap. The duck struggled for a little while and then went still. Mystery didn’t want to look under the towel. They were now in the car and headed for the nearest local vet which was just down the road. They pulled into the car park. The car park was empty and there were no signs of anyone in the building. Her friend got out and walked up to the door, he stood there for a minute with his phone out typing something into it. He ran back to the car. “It’s not open, but I have a phone number for an emergency place.” He turned and looked at Mystery. “It’s about a twenty minute drive away.” Mystery only hoped that the duck would hold on for that long.

Silence followed. Mystery stared out the window hoping the duck would live. There was no movement happening under the towel. She could still feel a small little warm body on her lap, but didn’t want to frighten the duck by looking under the towel. The drive felt like eternity and during it Mystery felt totally and utterly useless. She wanted to do something for the duck, but all she could do was wait and hope. They arrived in an industrial area off the highway and pulled up near a small white building. Mystery slowly and carefully lifted the towel with the bird in it and carried it into the building, all the while telling the bird everything was going to be alright.

The waiting room was cold and clinical in appearance. Nobody was there except the receptionist. Mystery handed the duck over to the receptionist lady. The lady went out the back with the duck while Mystery filled out a form. The form was asking for her name and address. She didn’t know why she had to give them her name and address, but she filled out the form anyway. The lady came out a minute later and told Mystery that she didn’t have to bother filling out the rest of the form. The duck was already dead. All hope left Mystery in an instant. This was instead replaced with sadness and despair. The lady handed her the old gym towel back. Mystery pushed the form aside and headed back to the car with her friend. Once she was in the car Mystery let out a big sigh and started crying. Mystery looked down at the old gym towel. It had spots of blood all over it. How could she have been so foolish to think that it was going to live? How long had it been dead before they had managed to get to the vet? Staring out the window, Mystery cried the whole way home. It wasn’t fair, that someone had hit these poor ducks and kept driving without a second thought to their lives. Humans made her angry; they didn’t care about anything but themselves. If that vet just down the road from the accident had been open, maybe the duck might have lived. If that person had been driving slower maybe they wouldn’t have hit the ducks. If that person had just stopped and gotten out of the car and helped the ducks maybe one of them could have lived. Too many if’s crossed Mystery’s mind, wishing things could have turned out differently. Mystery thought back to how that afternoon had begun. She had been happy singing along to music. The song ‘Flight of Icarus’ now meant something different to her. It was strange how that song had come on just at the moment everything was about to change, just before she witnessed a couple of ducks lives come to an end.  Mystery now felt a deep hatred for the human race, one that many other people would never understand. The world suddenly seemed like a cruel place.

The sun was almost gone and darkness was filling the sky.

Bell Night

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Posted by on March 21, 2013 in Flight of Icarus, Short Story


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A Secret

It’s hidden beneath a house, below the ground, the earth so old.

A mystery within misery that no one can understand.

A secret destroying, solid existence of what we were told.

Rooted and entrenched, locked away twisting and growing under kingdom land.

Not unclear to all that know, but painfully shadowy to those the bell tolls.

Murky, gloomy, seedy and dark beyond all fear.

Being never arrives, unlike the Dead Sea scrolls.

Timing is everything, for no reason it draws near.


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Posted by on February 28, 2013 in Poem


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The day the light

The day the light

The sun the night

The air the breeze

The cold the freeze

The stars the moon

The song the tune

The heat the fire

The truth the liar

The water the wave

The dark the cave

The pain the fear

The laugh the tear


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Posted by on February 19, 2013 in Poem


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A Journey Forgotten

 Tossing and turning. Elanora was trying to force sleep to embrace her unsettled mind. Thoughts rampaging back and forth across her highly alert brain. These were the kind of thoughts Elanora believed that a nineteen year old should not be worrying about for many years to come. Yet her mind couldn’t stop pondering the meaning of life and death. Why was she alive? What was her purpose in life? What happens after you die? The answers to these questions eluded her. Echoes of what that boy Lewis had said to her at work, rebounding off the walls of her mind.

At first she thought that he was flirting with her as they exchanged money for a lotto ticket. His amazing deep blue eyes were like pools of water that she couldn’t stop gazing at.

“I hope this one’s a winner.” He said.  Elanora was still hypnotised by his eyes and didn’t say anything. Silence followed. Lewis broke the silence and continued talking as if he wasn’t having a one-sided conversation with himself.

“I live out of home and I need the money; if I plan on becoming a famous musician that is.” He explained. Elanora rolled her eyes and let out a little snort. He is just like all the other guys who believe they are going to be rock stars someday. So immature she thought. Elanora started blushing and realised he had seen this. In that instant his deep blue eyes seemed to have almost turned black as he started to frown.

“Oh, and I suppose you know what your going to do with your life.” He spouted angrily.

“Well no.” she said hesitantly.

“I bet you still live at home with your parents too.” Lewis said smugly before spinning around and storming out the door. Elanora just stood there with her mouth gaping open. What a rude guy.

She rolled over in bed trying to will all these thoughts out of her head. Maybe he was right. She was doing nothing with her life. Tomorrow she would change that. Eventually sleep caught up to these thoughts and her mind stopped running.

When Elanora woke, her eye lids felt heavier than usual. She slowly pulled the covers off of her and stood up. Every bone in her body creaked in rebellion. What had she done yesterday to feel so sore? Every bone, joint and muscle in her body ached. She felt weird. She wondered what time it was. She would be due at work soon. Peering over at the clock on the bedside table Elanora realised that something was terribly wrong.

This wasn’t her bedroom. Confusion and panic started to take over. Where was she? The bedroom that she knew and loved was full of posters on the walls, pictures of her friends and childhood stuffed animals on her bed. This room was different. The smell of lavender wafted through the air. The walls were painted an overly cheerful yellow and there were picture frames hanging with photos of people she didn’t recognise. Elanora felt as if she was in some strange nightmare.

She had heard somewhere that the best way to determine if you were in a dream was to pinch yourself. Without looking down at her arm, Elanora quickly gave herself a gentle pinch. Unbearable pain followed. That had been a mistake. She looked down at her pale white arm. Instantaneously there was a bruise. A surprisingly large bruise for such a small pinch. Moving her gaze down from her arm and towards her hand, she noticed that they were very wrinkly. Kind of like when she had spent too much time in the bath tub. Elanora got a sinking feeling. There was something very wrong.

“Mum…Dad?” A strange voice croaked out of her mouth.

Elanora tried to remind herself not to panic. Maybe she was just ill and this strange room was a hospital room. Slowly she turned to face the large mirror across from the bed. First glance she was shocked. This wasn’t a mirror; this was some kind of window. On the other side of the window was an old lady. The old lady looked as shocked as Elanora felt.

“Hello?” The alien voice came out of her mouth again. The old woman mimicked her movements. Elanora and the old woman started screaming. A high-pitch deafening scream.  Her heart started to race a million miles an hour; making it hard for her to breathe or swallow. Her first thought had been wrong. This was no window; this in fact was a mirror.

A lady came bursting through the door, she was wearing some sort of nurse’s uniform. The nurse convinced Elanora to sit in the big round armchair in the corner of the room.

“Calm down Elanora.” Urged the nurse. Obviously the lady knew her, because she said her name. She looked at the nurse with imploring eyes.

“Where am I?”

“Oh it seems you have forgotten again. We were making so much progress yesterday as well.” The nurse looked disappointed. Elanora ignored her comment.

“Where am I?” She repeated.

“Well you are at Northridge Nursing home. You have been here for almost eight years now.” The nurse replied in a matter of fact tone. Elanora tried to blink away the tears swelling in her eyes. She was trying to think of how to reason with this lady. It was some kind of nightmare, it had to be. This lady must have the wrong person. Elanora didn’t belong in a nursing home. She was a young healthy nineteen year old girl. This lady was obviously confused, but Elanora decided to go along with it.

“What do you mean by I have forgotten. Do I have amnesia?”

“No, not amnesia.” The nurse said sternly. She took Elanora by the hand. The nurse’s hand felt warm and soft against her own cold clammy palm.

“Let’s have a look at some photos to help jog your memory.” The nurse smiled whilst leading her to a wall fall of pictures frames. Elanora was silent.

“These are all your family and friends.” The nurse said pointing to all the pictures. Elanora looked around scanning the photos and the faces in them. She didn’t recognise any of them. Elanora snapped.

“No they’re not.”

“Yes they are, you just don’t remember.” The nurse stated calmly. She started rattling off names of all the people in the photos. One photo in particular caught Elanora’s attention. It was of an old woman and an old man holding hands. The old man in the photo looked slightly familiar. She slowly moved closer to get a better look. He had amazing deep blue eyes that were like pools of water.

“Who is that man?” Elanora wondered aloud.

“That would be your husband.”

“Lewis?” Bits and pieces of a journey forgotten started to dimly fill her empty mind.

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Posted by on February 14, 2013 in Short Story


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Something I started and never finished.

I stopped weeping for a moment to wipe my snotty nose on my knee. I’m not alone, I thought, blind to the voices in the room.

“I think it’s time we made other plans,” said raspy man’s voice.

“We have an obligation to remember the dead,” A female voice replied. There was a moment of silence and hesitation between the two voices.

“I never meant any harm to the girl,” confessed the man with the raspy voice. Without being able to see his face I knew he was sad. It was just in the tone of his voice.

“What do you mean?” Snapped the woman. Her voice was growing higher in pitch. “Rebecca is mine now, she is ours.”

“Is that her name?” Sighed the man.

Are they talking about me? They must be I thought, because Rebecca is my name. All I wanted to do is go home. I should have listened to my mother, never go out alone. I started to cry again, but then realised the sad man and the angry woman might hear me.


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Posted by on February 11, 2013 in Short Story


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