Beth Sarah

Joined June 2021

0 stories

Bio

We've been scribbled in the margins of a story that is patently absurd

Achievements (1)

Runner-Up in Return of the Night Owl Challenge

Stories (36/0)

In Search of Lost Time
Consciousness comes upon me like I’m being dragged out of a tar pit. My mouth is dry. As I open my eyes, a judgemental glare of sunlight that permeates a gap in the curtains pierces my retinas. I close them immediately and jolt at the sound of a clang, then metal rolling on wood where my hand has scraped across the table beside the bed. A little thud on the carpet. Reticently, I open my eyes again to see what it was. Ah - just the copper coin I had engraved for Kate three months ago as a gift for our seventh wedding anniversary.
By Beth Sarah16 days ago in Fiction
Subversive Sandman’s Sad Story
Sunday. Subversive Sandman sits scathing; sips spiced Scotch. Smokes. Stands. Seeks scrapbook’s scrawls: souvenirs showing salacious sins.
By Beth Sarah2 months ago in Poets
Playing Cat and Mouse in the House of Mirrors
The mirror showed a reflection that wasn’t my own. I was so caught up in that moment that I did not quite recognise this at first, and by the time I did it was far too late.
By Beth Sarah3 months ago in Fiction
An artist discussing his painting with an acquaintance at the exhibition.
“Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. The smell of smoke filled the air permanently and the faint clamour of machinery buzzed softly and enduringly in the background of life like a drone.
By Beth Sarah3 months ago in Fiction
Peer Pressure
There was a daft man called Adam Who knew less than what he could fathom He was pretty naïve Just loved fucking Eve So he bit it and said, "Cheers Madame!"
By Beth Sarah3 months ago in Poets
Somewhere beyond our perception
In the vast ether Time distorts and unfurls, laughs In cosmic dances
By Beth Sarah3 months ago in Poets
Visiting relatives on a Sunday afternoon after church
Grandfather clock stands Proudly observing each Generation play Tick tock tick tock tick Clunk clunk clunk. Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong.
By Beth Sarah3 months ago in Poets
The first whisper of Spring
Warm sunshine after A long winter. Moment to Savour like sweet wine
By Beth Sarah3 months ago in Poets
Chaos Theory
Scars faded with time But subtle imprints remain; Still they whisper
By Beth Sarah3 months ago in Poets
Another Bloodmoon
Steady moon, toys with Tides that push and pull all life: The cycle goes on
By Beth Sarah3 months ago in Poets
Exit through the giftshop
If walls could talk we would have an awful lot to say, particularly walls that have stood firm as long as I have. As it is, we cannot, and thus we remain silent witnesses to the endless occurrences that take place within our bounds.
By Beth Sarah4 months ago in Fiction
Lifecycle
The first breath Catelyn took felt different – the first real breath; the first one on the outside. It was laboured; harsh and heavy and bitter. By comparison, breathing inside was light and easy. She wished to return immediately.
By Beth Sarah5 months ago in Fiction