Search Results for: LizMilne

In the year 2035, a fad started in which people got themselves tattooed with the names of all their lovers. Down their backs predominantly, easily visible thanks to the scanty fashions of this time.

Some people take the trend as a challenge and work hard to have their list touch their buttocks and spill over onto their other shoulder blade and so on. There is no judgement now, no name-calling or shaming.

As for me? Well, I have been widowed for quite a while now. There’s just the one name emblazoned proudly on my shoulder blade.

And in my heart too.

Dragons wake rarely. They sleep for years at a time, but live in centuries so it all works out.

The littlest dragon hasn’t yet been awake during a war (his loss, the other dragons feel) but this is about to change.

Dragons like it when humans go to war: they feed like kings during these times, feed like kings and nobody notices the extra losses. They’re explained away with military terminology and whitewash and any questions are discouraged.

The littlest dragon wakes. He scents the blood in the air and knows he will eat well tonight.

“Humans are vicious,” he thinks.

“I don’t believe in ghosts!” declared George. “What a load of nonsense!”

Maria looked at him levelly, silently disagreeing. She rose without replying and cleared the plates. In the kitchen, she looked at her own reflection in the window as she washed up. Her face was pallid and lifeless against the ripples in the glass. As she placed the last knife in the rack, a hand touched her shoulder. Without turning, she put her hand over his.

He spoke, raising goose-bumps down her neck. “Sorry, love, I know you believe…”

She raised her eyes, knowing his ghost would soon fade again.