Author S. K. Nicholas

  Descending the staircase after my shift finished, right there on the wall was a spider the size of my hand. It was crawling upwards; its big, black legs going this way and that. Closing my eyes, I prayed for it to be an hallucination brought on by the nightmares I’ve been having; that somehow… Read more

  Spinning around oblivious to anything that doesn’t touch me, I’m drunk and in love with everyone I’ve ever known, and as the streets come and go one after the other, I’m shouting at the top of my lungs and crying at the sight of a thousand dead dreams as they fall by my side… Read more

  Birthdays aren’t a big deal to me; this one was spent mostly editing the journal. It’s pretty much done, maybe a week or two left, and then it’s being sent off to be proofread. It’s not perfect, but I’m proud of it. You can sense the growth of my endeavours within every page, and… Read more

  The waitress is Italian, at least I think she is. She smiles shyly. It could be genuine, or perhaps it’s just for show, I’m not sure. She’s brunette, and whenever she walks by my table, I can’t help but eye her up. There’s a certain philosophy to our interactions; a hidden truth with a… Read more

  Orchids. Sunflowers. Labia. Bearded man eyeing up a blonde on his walk to the gas station to pick up breakfast and a bottle of wine. Stood behind me, a brunette sniffs my scent and presses herself against my arm. I stink of shots, grease, sweat, and maybe talcum powder. Instead of taking a shower, I… Read more

  I’m having these constant dreams where a tarantula keeps crawling from her vagina while we’re in the act of fucking. With big, thick legs, and a million tiny hairs that stand on end, they tickle my tongue unexpectedly as it glides across her sex. There has to be some meaning to it- probably something… Read more

  Checking my phone, the guy on TV is talking about the massacre at that airport in Turkey. I’ve been to Turkey, although it was a long time ago, it must be said. I remember just being a kid, and some girl no older than me, well, she just stripped naked and jumped in the… Read more

  Our love went to the boneyard, and that’s where it now resides. It’s cold and lonely, like a beaten dog forced to spend the night outside in the rain, or an abused daughter losing herself in the maze of her mind. The days are gray; just like the sky and the seas that lap… Read more

  In the old town, there was this homeless guy named Carrot. Just like me, he had locks of red hair and a beard that was in desperate need of a trim. For several years, I used to pass him on my travels through the streets in the town centre. Sometimes, it was in the… Read more

  In the old town, there were ghosts everywhere I walked. In the bookshop where I first set eyes upon Sophie, the novels seemed the same as they did several years ago, and yet they had all changed. Despite appearing the same, the pages were different, as were the faces of those stood behind the cash… Read more