Today’s blog post is going to be slightly different. In honour of being extremely unproductive today, I’ve dug into my very small lack-of-archives and have uncovered a short story I wrote about a year ago.
I must have written this story just before publishing Dimensions, and it’s meant to be humorous (mostly to help me with my self-doubt at the time surrounding the reality of publishing my book – and also because I was struggling to write anything remotely sophisticated at the time).
This piece is called ‘Small Town Horror’:
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We might look like an ordinary town. But we’re not. The wind howls with the whispers of long forgotten spirits, snaking around the citizens in a way that makes our blood run cold. But we’d be lost without the supportive hand of those who have since passed, in fact it would feel weird without them.
Now why, I hear you ask, is our town haunted? Out of every town on this planet, what have we done that’s so wrong? Well, let me explain. But first, I’ll set the scene like any good narrator would.
Our town is about an hour away from any kind of industrial civilisation. We’re tucked right into the corner of the countryside, hidden between two hills. Obnoxiously large hills, if you ask me, but hills all the same. They cast shadows across our little village during the days when the sun bothers to visit, which I have to say isn’t very often, but in those few hours that we are blessed with sunlight, the shadows block out all of the sun’s effort. Which is probably why it’s given up trying lately.
This permanent state of gloom and doom we happen to have the unlucky fortune of experiencing, every day, tries so hard to drag down the mindset of our home that I must clap it for its effort. Excuse me – Clap, clap, clap. However, this gloom and doom is unsuccessful. Doesn’t it already know we’re haunted? We can live easily with the darkness.
Anyway, I’m going a bit off topic here. What was I doing…? Oh right, setting the scene. Okay, well our village is old. Traditional, some people choose to call it. But, if you think about it, traditional is just a fancy word for old, which people use when they don’t want to hurt their pride. Our buildings would be what you’d expect from a classic western movie – minus the cowboys, I mean come on, we aren’t savages.
Although that could be debatable. We are haunted after all.
So, there. Scene set. Cold, shadowy village with old buildings. So old that the windows creak and the doors groan. Just your average stereotypical haunted town. But we haven’t done anything wrong. Honestly, what’s the fuss for?
Are you saying something? Sorry, the ghostly whispers are distracting me. Haha, joking. No, we aren’t that haunted. But you want to know what we’ve done, don’t you? That’s what you’re asking. Well, buckle up buddy – or whatever. This might knock your socks off as some people say… The crime we’ve been committed of?
We put milk in the bowl before cereal.
Oh, the horror.
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There you go, I hope you enjoyed this slightly different blog post. I think it would be really fun to write a book in this style of writing, so maybe I’ll try it somewhen in the future.
Sorry, as always, for being unproductive. I should have a relatively good blog post idea next week. See you then.
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