K.A. Ashcomb's Blog, page 38

Short Story: Release Me

Do you hear that? Please tell me you do. I beg you not to ignore it. Please release me from these doubts. You must hear her whispers. You must.

Do you hear that? Did I ask you that already? I did, didn’t I. Did I ask you what day it is? I’m not sure. Do you hear my words, or are they just an echo inside me? I can see you there, lurking next to my bed. I try to grab you, but you walk away before I can even move my fingers. I fall asleep waiting for you to come back.

The next time I wake up,...

Book Review: Letters from a Shipwreck in the Sea of Suns and Moons by Raymond St. Elmo

Maybe it is the poetical words or the dream-like narration, or the mystery embedded into the book which drew me in. All of which is the strong suit of St. Elmo’s writing style. Letters from a Shipwreck in the Sea of Suns and Moons don’t fall short of it. It is a beautifully written story about a failed poet who becomes a sailor shunned by his love’s, the mysterious K’s, father and family. Clarence St. Elmo’s, the poet’s, story, future, and discovery of himself is revealed through an interview wi...

Short Story: Skin-Deep

She heard in the distance barking turning into a howl as she made her way home. She didn’t need her sixth sense to tell her to run, but she refused. There were no monsters in the night. Not without her knowing, at least. So she slowed her steps and heart beating down by taking a deep breath in. The howling continued on as more and more dogs joined in. The lights over her began to flicker, and she hated how cliché this was. Still, she had to remind herself not to let her imagination get better of...

Short Story: The Scent of the Universe

Every morning, he sat there at the common living area, being grumpy and glowering at everyone who passed, especially me, as I went upon my duties. He would muter things like rusted nails inside a brown polyester bag and wrinkled his nose. Other times he would almost smile when I brought him his morning tea and say stuff like forgotten Sunday wrapped into a purple silk kimono, and I would get startled and quickly move on. No one in the nursing home liked to take care of him or be around him. So w...

Short Story: The Beginning, Middle, and the Ending

I could begin this in so many ways. I could tell you about my childhood or about how it all ends, or from the beginning, but who can really tell where their life began and where it was just a dream others told you. But I will start by saying that you shouldn’t try to reach me once this letter finds you. It’s not safe, and I’m sure they are still watching me and you… You don’t want them to notice you. But, if I’m really still and slowly glance over my shoulder, I can see them. One of them, at lea...

Short Story: Jester Without a King

All the kings are gone.
I sit alone, hearing the sigh of the long line of jesters.
I’m a stand-up comic, entertaining the masses,
and all I want to do is mock my leaders and keep them honest.
They hear me no more.
They hire PR gurus to shine my words away,
making my howl rasp my throat.
So here I sit, a lonely jester without a king, entertaining and watching the world crumble.
Honest no more.

Thank you for reading, and have a lovely day
© K.A. Ashcomb

P.S. Sorry about this one and not posting the ...

Short Story: Maze

He wanted to turn around, but he couldn’t. He heard barking and running feet coming behind him, and the tall stones on both sides kept guiding him deeper into the maze. This was no spiritual labyrinth where he could lose the evil spirits and bad fortune before going to sea. This was meant for hunting, and he was the prey. Or so they had said when he had come around, his bother by his side. He wasn’t sure where his older brother was now. They had forced him to go in first and said that if you got...

Short Story: Birth of a Monster

It was a birth of a monster. I couldn’t forget those distant eyes and the red face. The death of expression. Back then, I saw a creature suffering, though I occasionally forgot it, wishing for a quick death. Not mine, but its. My heart rebuked me for my callous thoughts. How could anyone wish for death? I guess my heart still thought there was good in anyone and hope to be carried. But it was the same heart which cried under the monster’s gaze. 

Those were the early days when I was still conf...

Short Story: A Pilot

She blinked at the piercing light, waking to a massive headache. Then she remembered fighting and being knocked cold when making her way through the hangar to her ship. Or everything could be a trick of last night drinking, and she had gone to bed with some asshole who thought bright rooms were in fashion. They weren’t. Neither was whatever this was. Either way, mistakes had been made.

She got up to sit, feeling the entire room sway. She found it still difficult to focus past the light, and t...

Short Story: Life According to Holt

I don’t sugarcoat it. Life is a small boxed existence, which you can measure with your feet. It is not grand. It is all about being stuck with your thoughts and finding decent enough company to share them. The trouble is, I Holt, don’t have company, not in the sense what one might call engaging or meaningful. I have my AI with me, and its only concern is my vitals, oxygen and food supply, and getting me to my destination. So our conversations usually go as it repeats my pulse and bowel movements...