Panda
By Thomas Caterer Part 1 The old man sat on his porch. His fingers wrapped gently around a cigarette. He took in the cool, night air. There was a soft breeze, and he felt his body hairs stand up. He surveyed the street, the houses beside him, and those opposite. His eyes scanned over the…
Visualising 4-Dimensional Objects
By A. O. Wallat Bath Time Thoughts #2 – Visualising 4-Dimensional Objects. Original Audioplay first appeared on http://www.holtandwallt.com [Wallt] Good evening. Turn on the taps, light some candles, test the temperature with your elbows and dip your toes in the bath as you let your mind dip out, just for a moment, for another episode…
The Demon King of the Lake
By Thomas Caterer Deshi looked upon the bright days of summer from dark corners. Shaded under the trees where he sat alone, his brow furrowed as he dwelled on his thoughts. He leered at sun-soaked days with a well-rehearsed suspicion. For the other young men and women of the Diolo tribe these long, hot days…
The Pathfinder’s Map of Time
By A. O. Wallat Bath Time Thoughts #1 – The Pathfinder’s Map of Time. Original Audioplay first appeared on http://www.holtandwallt.com. I have always wondered about the mapping of time and whether time really exists. Now before you say the heat has cooked my brain or I’ve drunk too much bath water, which let’s face it…
The Tree
By D. S. Johnson There was a tree in the graveyard near our house where I grew up. It was almost as tall as the church’s steeple and bare all year. It was twisted like in pain and darker in its bark than any other near it. Da told me it was in anguish. He…
Peter’s Hard Drive
By A. O. Wallat He was dying. I could tell. We all could. All Peter ever ate was chocolate and all he ever drank was red wine. His dementia was explained to me with a simple analogy: We are all brand new computers when we’re born. We all operate in similar ways; throughout life our…
The Toymaker
By Thomas Caterer The Toyshop Theodore’s meticulous hand-crafted works did not crowd but cosily populated the warm, welcoming workshop he now called his home. Made of a colour spectrum of soft and hearty browns, the room was lit by a natural fire glow. The aroma of coffee suffused the air. Theodore was holding a magnifying…
November Twelfth, 2120
By D. S. Johnson Fresh, cold steel presses against each temple. A reassuring glow fills the visipod and sight is softly restored. Far off alarms. Shouting, muffled by layers of cloth and plastic and doorways and distance. The distinct and sickening smell of burnt flesh and fresh blood. A moment for things to sink in…
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Notepad Stories 