I originally tweeted this story for National Flash Fiction Day. This version has been slightly edited and, I hope, improved upon.

I normally didn’t watch much television, preferring the radio to fill my evenings. But she sat transfixed at the screen. Her lips moved soundlessly in response to the brightly coloured characters there. The bowl of spiced vegetable soup sat cold and untouched in front of her. It was only the paleness of her skin against the black window that made me realise how dark it had become outside and I moved quietly as my age would allow to draw the curtains. When I returned to my seat she drew her knees up under her chin and hugged her legs. I saw she was shivering a little, but the slightest shake of her head was the only response to my question ‘are you cold?’ 

She had been waiting for me, sitting patiently by the door as I climbed the thin, stone steps to my flat. I had stopped halfway to catch my breath and let some of the pain in my knees fade. She looked maybe six years old, pale skin, long corn-blonde hair and wearing a white polo shirt under a simple black dress. Her big, staring eyes, blinked once when I reached the top and invited her in. 

She stood nervously as I emptied my shopping onto the kitchen bench. Milk, eggs, bread and a chocolate bar which was refused when offered. Hughes, my old cat limped into the kitchen and stared at the girl before continuing to his food bowl. She went over to him, crouching down and offering her hand. Hughes scrutinised her, gently licked her fingers and, purring, continued to eat. 

I asked if she was hungry, turning to take two bowls from the cupboard behind me and two glasses from hooks on the wall. When I turned back she was gone. 

I found her in the living room, looking at photographs of when I was younger. ‘My brothers and I. He’s a painter now, that’s one of his above the door’ I pointed. ‘And my younger brother, I’m not sure what he does, but he always seems to manage.’ She moved to the mantelpiece and looked up. A young boy in school uniform grinned confidently from a leather frame. ‘My nephew! Well, he’s grown up now, writes children books, quite good ones too.’ The next frame held a girl with a nervous and uncertain smile. I swallowed hard. ‘That’s my niece. She…loved to dance…and to swim…’ I turned away blinking rapidly and retreated to the kitchen. 

When I re-emerged with a drink for her, she was standing in front of my television, reaching out to the screen. I switched it on, and her hand snapped back. Finding a cartoon channel, I placed the glass on the table next to her and shuffled out of the room.

Now I sat trying to read, but the book barely held my attention and I kept glancing up at her. Though she had stopped shivering, her lips were almost blue, and a thin sheen of sweat covered her skin. Suddenly her eyes met mine, the television screen had filled with a message that programmes would start again in the morning. I checked the time and slowly stood up, ‘I think we’ll put you in my room, it’s warmer and more comfortable than the spare’. She slid off the settee and over to me.

I couldn’t remember leaving my bedroom light on, or it being so bright, but it blazed around the door frame. The girl reached up to take my hand. I tried to remember if I had forgotten anything and thought of what I hadn’t managed to get done. She pushed open the door and together we crossed the threshold. 

The Colour of Blood

a creation myth

Long ago, not so long after the world had been created, a single solitary figure wandered the land. His name was Zander, and he was very miserable, can you guess why?

It was because while the world around him was dull and grey and plain and boring, his skin swirled and glowed and danced with every colour you can possibly imagine. There were reds and yellows and blues and greens and purples and every other colour in between. Zander wanted to share his gift with the world, to make it bright and alive. It seemed unfair to him that he alone should have colour and the world around him have none.

His only friend and companion was the wind, who would try to cheer him by tickling him behind his ears, or making wild and strange noises by whistling and moaning through the dull pale trees or over the bleak, washed out rocks.

One day Zander stopped walking and he lay down on the road and didn’t move. The wind came down and asked what the matter was. ‘Oh wind,’ replied Zander, ‘I am so tired of being the only thing in this world with colour and not be able to share it that I have decided to lie here until I die.’

The wind thought this was ridiculous, and screamed through the sky overhead in the hope Zander wouldn’t be able to bear the noise and move on. Zander simply covered his ears. So the wind blew low over the ground, scattering dust into the air and into Zander’s eyes. Zander just screwed his eyes shut and curled up into a ball. He would not move.

Eventually the wind drifted away, high up into the sky to wait and wonder. Slowly at first, it began to gather its strength. More and more powerful it become until the wind burst from the sky and hurtled down straight towards Zander. The wind hit Zander with such force that he was sent high into the air and then bouncing and tumbling and cartwheeling across the ground. When Zander eventually came to a stop and picked himself up he was furious. He raised his fists into and was about to curse the wind with every oath he knew until…he noticed something strange had happened.

Where he had hit the ground and cut and grazed himself, small patches of colour had been left behind. Forgetting his anger, Zander knelt down and picked up two sharp rocks, cut open his arms and let his blood flow into the ground. He watched in amazement as the world around him came alive. His blood painted the ground beneath him a rich brown and the grass around him a deep green. Flowers bloomed into life and insects that visited them took their colours into the sky. Birds that ate the insects burst into colour. Sleeping in their burrows the fox was painted red and badger striped black.

Zander smiled at the colour all around him, he bled and bled into the ground until he felt himself becoming tired, so tired he lay down to rest. The wind came down and gently lifted Zander’s body into the air, so light and empty. As it was carried higher, Zander’s skin fell away, painting the sky blue and his bones floated into the sky and become clouds. Higher and higher the wind took him. When Zander’s heart touched the sun, it burst into flame, making the colours on the earth below even more brilliant. And his skull…ah his skull…if you go out on a clear dark night and look up, you can see Zander’s skull watching over the sleeping world of colour he helped create.

The wind. It blows stuff over.

The Temporary Christmas

richard heslop

He stood in line drumming his fingers against the cards he held and impatiently shuffling his feet. Christmas songs filled the small shop and he cast his eyes over the stands of decorations, advent calendars and a variety of seasonal themed novelty gifts. The type of shop that sprung up for a few months across the world at this time of year Christmas Eve, why did he always think he’d be the only one leaving everything til Christmas Eve?

‘Merry Christmas sir!’

He jumped, and blinked. Bright blue eyes that could only be described as sparkling, a brilliant and open smile. He smelled pine needles, warm spices and mulled wine. He was next in line.

‘Oh, um, Merry Christmas,’ he returned a quick smile and thrust the cards at her. ‘Just these, thank you.’

‘Leaving it a little late?’

‘What? Oh, yes, well, I’ve been busy…’

The brilliant smile again. ‘Everyone is this time of year.’

He watched her scan the cards and he smiled.

‘That’ll be eight ninety seven please’.

He handed her the money. ‘Would you like to join me for a drink later?’ WHAT??!!

She blushed and tucked her hair behind one ear, glancing at the girl next to her who smiled back and nodded.

He was handed his change. ‘I finish at eight, meet me outside?’ She was still blushing a little.

He grinned idiotically back and nodded. ‘I’ve got some other things to get. So I’ll meet you outside at eight’.

She laughed and glanced at her friend again. ‘Good. I’ll see you then.’

He backed away still grinning and stumbled out of the shop.

What the fuck was he thinking? Had he really just asked a complete stranger for a drink on the spur of the moment on Christmas Eve? He checked the time; just after six. Would he come back at eight? The eyes, the smile, the laugh…the alternative was home half-heartedly wrapping presents, getting drunk and explaining to his mother that he’d call in tomorrow but wouldn’t stay for dinner…

Yes, he’d come back.

Two hours of hell later, having faced endless crowds, queues and successfully finding presents that would probably do, he was standing outside the now closed Christmas shop telling himself he was a complete idiot, that she wouldn’t turn up and he should ju-

‘Hi!’ he jumped. ‘Wow, you do leave it late.’ She walked up to him and pointed at the bags he carried.

‘Uhm, I don’t really do Christmas…’ .’

‘Really? I love Christmas. Everything about it.’

He looked at the now closed store front. ‘I would have never guessed.’

The smile again. He awkwardly held out his hand. ‘I’m…Philip…uh…Phil…’

She shook it. ‘Carol…Carol Christmas.’

‘What? Really?!’

The laugh again. She shook her head. ‘No, not really. So, where are you taking me for dinner? I’m starving. Oh, I know just the place!’ And she took his arm and guided him into the crowds, pointing and smiling at every decoration they passed. He couldn’t help but find himself smiling back at her child-like wonder and enthusiasm.

They sat in a small café he didn’t even know existed. She sat opposite, carefully studying the menu and swinging her legs under the table, her feet brushing against him every time.

‘I didn’t think anywhere would be open this late…’

She looked over the top of the menu. ‘People have to eat, even on Christmas Eve.’

‘I suppose but…’

She took his hand and while his instinct was to pull away but a warmth that spread from her touch and up his arm stopped him. He relaxed and looked at her, feeling his face flush.

‘Philip…Phil…are you lonely?’

‘I…I um…don’t have much time for people and I-‘

The waiter then arrived to take their order and spare him further embarrassment. They ate in silence, he kept looking over at her and wondered…

He stoked the fire and listened to the voice in his head. And what are you doing? You ask a total stranger out for a drink, buy her dinner and bring her home. Yes she’s pretty but-

‘Wow. You really don’t do Christmas do you?’ She stood holding two glasses of wine and looking around his living room. Nothing except a few cards on the mantelpiece even suggested it was Christmas.

‘Well, I really don’t have much time for it, I’m busy most of the year and no one really comes here so I don’t feel the need to-‘

In a single movement she handed him a glass, took a sip from her own, looked up into his eyes and reached up to pull him close.

They let the fire burn out.

The telephone woke him in the morning, retrieving it from the bedside table he answered without checking who it was.

‘Hello? Mam…wha…yeah…Merry Christmas…’ he stood up and walked across the room. ‘Yes, yes, I’ll call in later, no I’m not sure if-’ he turned and she was smiling sleepily at him from the bed. ‘Actually Mam, do you mind if I bring someone?’ He raised his eyes brows at her, as if to question this was alright, sitting up, she nodded. ‘No, you don’t know them…you don’t mind? Yes, yes…I should be there for then…’bye Mam.’

He sat down on the edge of the bed. ‘I hope you don’t mind, I don’t know if you’ve got something else planned or-‘

She reached for him. ‘No, I don’t mind at all Philip…Phil.’

They were going to be late.

‘Is that it?’ She looked at the meagre pile of presents on the back seat of the car.

‘Yeah, well, I’m busy so I don’t-‘

‘I know, you don’t have time. Mind if we stop at mine on the way?’

He didn’t and she directed him to a small, run down old terrace. ‘They’ve been converted into flats.’ She answered to his frown. ‘Wait for me?’

‘Of course.’ He watched her run up the steps and enter a darkened doorway that led to a building which seemed impossible for anyone to live in.

The voice started again. Do you have any idea what you’re doing? Do you know her name yet? What if she comes back with a gun, or a knife, or a group of ‘friends’ who-

She reappeared, running down the steps, laden with presents, opened the back door, dumped them next to his and climbed in the front.

‘What are-‘

‘Oh don’t worry, I always buy extra, come on, we’re late.’ And she flashed him a brilliant smile.

‘Mam this is, uh-‘

‘It’s wonderful to meet you, Philip…Phil asked if I would come and I didn’t want to disappoint him.’ She hugged his mother and walked through to the living room, handing out presents and greetings as she went.

His mother gave him a confused smile, he smiled back, shrugged, and followed her.

She sat between his niece and nephew, passing a present to each. He watched from the doorway as the gifts were unwrapped and she explained what they were.

‘Who are you?’ This from his nephew, Elliot.

‘I’m Philip…Phil’s friend.’

‘Where do you work?’ Now his niece, Amber.

‘At a Christmas shop.’

‘Where else do you work?’

She frowned at the girl. ‘Where else?’

‘You can’t work at a Christmas shop all the time.’

‘Why not? It’s always Christmas somewhere.’

‘But it’s Christmas at the same time everywhere.’

She frowned at this and shook her head. ‘No, no, just last month it was Christmas in Eridanib.’

Elliot looked at her. ‘What’s Eridanib?’

‘It’s a wonderful place where the ground is so far away the people live in the clouds. They float around all their lives and speak with the slowest softest voices you can imagine. Fire is rare and dangerous on their world and we sell them long lighters the Eridan use to light gas pockets at Christmas to celebrate their saviour who led them into the clouds. They create the most wonderful flares and colours, like the greatest fireworks display you can imagine.’

‘Who’s we?’

‘The people I work with in the Christmas shop of course.’

Amber pulled at her arm and climbed onto her knee. ‘Where else will it be Christmas?’

‘Soon we will leave for Keplex, a world where the ground is so hot it would burn you to a crisp to stand on it for even a moment. The Kep have thick red skin and live mostly underground. They once lived short and violent lives on the surface til the wisest of them who ever lived led them deep into the planet. But at Christmas they venture close to the surface once more and through special vents they shoot fountains of lava again and again into the sky, creating different shapes and patterns. The bravest work in shallow mines near and forge the most beautiful ornaments and jewellery. In fact, your father is holding one such ornament.’

The children’s parents were examining a small cube. The polished glass surfaces seemed unable to settle on any one colour in the light.

‘It’s beautiful.’ Their mother winked. ‘You must tell me where you got it.’

She smiled back and shrugged.

From the doorway, he shook his head and grinned like an idiot. He felt warm and smelled fresh pine, spices and mulled wine.

Christmas dinner was then announced.

Who is she? What is her name?

‘Does everyone eat turkey when it’s Christmas?’ Elliot asked her when they say at the table.

She beamed at him. ‘No, in Gliese we arrive earlier than normal and gather insects-’

‘What’s Gliese like?’ Wide-eyed, Amber touched her hand. She had insisted on sitting next to her new best friend and hero.

‘A giant swamp. The people there live in underwater caves beneath the few huge tidal lakes on their world. Other than a few rocky areas, the surface is muddy, and very dangerous to walk on. You can be happily strolling along and suddenly be sucked deep into the ground.’

‘Why do you collect the insects?’ Elliot vied for her attention.

‘They glow, with the most beautiful colours both day and night, we keep them in little jars and sell them to the Glieans. On the lake shores, they create the most beautiful and intricate sculptures to celebrate who showed them they did not need to hide in the water. The glowing jars are used to decorate the sculptures.’

‘At night the tide washes away the sculptures and the jars. In the morning there is a race to see who can swim out to the lake and bring back the first jar. Afterwards the Glieans feast.

‘They eat the insects?!’ Elliot looked horrified.

She nodded, still smiling.

‘What do they look like? The Glieans?’ Amber was entranced.

‘Lizards probably, eating insects.’

‘Oh no, they’re tall and thin and delicate as water itself. They never make a sound, but communicate through touch and sign with their long fingers. They are beautiful.’

‘I want to see them.’

She smiled down at the small girl. ‘Maybe one day, you will.’

Amber beamed.

When they were back in the car he glanced in the rear-view mirror. ‘Hey, you forgot my presents!’

Her seatbelt clicked into place. ‘Oh? Sorry, you can give them out tomorrow. You don’t mind…do you?’

Smiling and shaking his head, he started the engine.

It was late when they got home and he was willingly led to the bedroom.

After, in the dark, she held him and whispered. ‘You aren’t lonely Philip…Phil.’

Morning woke him shivering, the bed was freezing. She was gone. He searched the room, no note, no trace. Just cold. He had never learned her name. Nothing about her beyond that she loved Christmas.

In the car he noticed the presents were gone from the back seat. Frowning, he drove to where she lived, which was locked and boarded up, looking if anything, more impossible for anyone to live in. After sitting feeling lost for a while, he drove back to the shopping centre where they had met.

You’re mad.

The voice might be right.

He stood in front of the Christmas shop. Empty. A ‘for rental’ sign in the window It didn’t look as if it had been used for…

He felt useless. Blinked and rubbed his eyes, looking around hopelessly. Eventually he approached a security guard.

‘Excuse me..?’

‘Sir?’

‘When did…wasn’t there a Christmas shop here..?’ He indicated the shuttered shop front.

He guard scrutinised him. ‘Christmas shop? I don’t think so, not that I remember. When?’

‘You don’t…just…two days ago…I met a girl…she…’

The guard frowned. ‘Sure you’ve got the right spot, sir?’

I…uh…maybe not…thank you…sorry…I…’

‘Not at all, Merry Christmas, sir.’ and he walked away.

He went back to the empty shop front.

Mad. Mad. Mad.

His mobile ringing brought him back. ‘Hello? Mam! Yes, yes, I’ll call in again to- what? Wonderful? Well, yes, but- no, no, I’m definitely still coming round only…it’ll just be me. Yes…well…what? Oh…ok…an hour then…’bye…’

He had been by himself yesterday, why would he bring anyone today, but he had been a different person, the presents had been amazing, Elliot and Amber had loved his stories. He turned away from the shop.

‘It’s always Christmas somewhere…’

He turned sharply, looking around and caught the faint scent of fresh pine, spices and mulled wine. The air was a little warmer.

Mad. Mad. Mad.

That night he lay alone and closed his eyes. He pictured a girl with sparkling blue eyes and a brilliant smile, celebrating Christmas across fantastic and impossible worlds. Blushing, she tucked her hair behind one ear. The room filled with the smell of fresh pine, spices, mulled wine and when he reached across to the other side of the bed, it felt warm.

The Shadow over Christmas!

Have a very Geeky Christmas!

Grendel being mint.

have a Crafty Christmas!

a visit to the parents = score.