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EMMA LOUISE GILL

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Tag: fantasy

Divine Intervention – Part 2

Colm lay in the sweat-damp hospital bed. His fingers stroked the low thread-count sheets, their rough texture rasping. He switched it up, reaching just far enough to knock on the cool bedrail, slide trembling hands along medical lines, then back to the sheet as the clock cut time. Monitors beeped. Wind in bare branches swished … Continue reading Divine Intervention – Part 2 →

emmalouisegill Writing 3 Comments December 24, 2020December 24, 2020

On Dijon Fields

Today was not a good day to be dead. In fact, Matthias mused, any day was not a good day to be dead, seeing as the day hurt his sensitive eyes, and the ever-suspicious locals noted his differences more often under the nasty sun. Nevertheless, today was worse than usual, because today he had to … Continue reading On Dijon Fields →

emmalouisegill Writing 3 Comments December 15, 2020

On the Boat

Shopping sounds fun. Shopping with your newly-corporeal and more-annoying-than-you-realised best friend? Not so much.I lean on a railing to watch Bertie stamp around, barefoot on the deck, testing her balance. The ferry rides the swell with experience. Bertie, however, does not.My best friend’s enthusiasm for the physical realm springs from the fact she was an … Continue reading On the Boat →

emmalouisegill Competition Leave a comment October 21, 2020October 19, 2020

Hypnosis

Just a little suggestion, he said. It’ll be fun, he said. You’ll fall asleep and I’ll kiss you awake like when we first met, then we can start again. That’s what he said. Why, then, did I just wake up alone, dusty, really bloody hungry in a really bloody cold industrial freezer? “Fool me once, fool me twice, all that shit,” … Continue reading Hypnosis →

emmalouisegill Writing Leave a comment August 26, 2020August 26, 2020

The Imp

There was a dead cat in the washing machine. One surprised emerald eye stared out of the mangled, inverted face. Matted black fur speckled with dirty dried suds covered its other eye, and its absurd pink tongue lolled heavily out of its mouth. What the hell? I stepped a little closer to the partially open … Continue reading The Imp →

emmalouisegill Writing Leave a comment September 3, 2019November 10, 2020

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