Author S. K. Nicholas

Scrutinizing every inch of what she can’t see, Gretchen squints and squints some more, hoping to find the source of the disturbing noise. For a period of time she can’t fathom, she sits silently gazing into the void, holding her breath and waiting. All she’s greeted by, though, is the sound of her heartbeat, banging Read more

Not wanting to flee to her room like a cowardly custard, Gretchen turns her head in search of conflict. The kitchen, as always, is right where it should be. The fridge and washing machine, barely visible in the midnight dark, silently await their next interaction the same as they do every other night. The ghostly Read more

Staring at the gooey blob that had once been a delicious cookie, she brings her hands up to her face and inspects them as if seeing them for the very first time. Licking her fingers, the chocolate still tastes good despite its melted form, so she wiggles her tongue like a worm and licks her Read more

With her left eye open the smallest of slithers, she sees the fake logs glowing before her, their glow illuminating the room, yet not bright enough to penetrate the nooks and crannies where darkness holds sway. The heat blasting from the heater continues to prick her face. Squinting, she realises she’s been crying, and the Read more

Her eyes are clamped tight. She daren’t open them because when she does, it means she’ll be back in the land of the living, and although the fox and the fairground are long gone, she doesn’t want to give them up. Not just yet, anyhow. Opening them will also mean having to confront the source Read more

Although the image is gone, the feeling remains. An uneasy feeling. One that lingers like the adult smell she can’t quite place. She knows she’s smelt it before; she’d bet her life on it, and yet she can’t say from where. It’s not unpleasant, as such. There’s a part of her that even wishes for Read more

At first, she’s not aware of the smell. Not consciously, anyhow. She’s too busy grinning in her bubble of nothing, but then, ever so slightly, she gets the faintest whiff of it. It’s barely there, like the faded scent of perfume on a scarf, sprayed weeks before on the neck of her mother. She’s not Read more

The stillness doesn’t last long. Perhaps only as long as a fraction of a second. However long it is, Gretchen doesn’t seem to notice or care. Like the now long-dead gods drifting on their backs in the bubble of nothingness when everything was nothing and all that would ever be was waiting to blossom like Read more