Brenda Anne Kellaway
Bio
Brenda Kellaway BA DipEd
Writer, Performing Arts, Politics
Published Literary works: A one act play ‘The Park Bench’, 2002. ‘What kind of Party,’ published Marxist.org 2013. Current Editor of ‘The Agitator', politics magazine.
Stories (3/0)
Chilled to the Bone!
Whumpf! The sting of freezing cold ice, shocked Kate into consciousness, as she landed hard on the surface of the frozen pond. The ice crackled beneath her, and fractures appeared, emanating out in all directions. She frantically scrambled from the breaking surface, but the ice gave way, and she was swallowed whole by the icy water. Sinking into the depths, she became disorientated, and for a couple of seconds she swam downwards, instead of towards the surface. Turning around, she realized that the water above her, had quickly transformed into a thick layer of ice. She reached upwards and pounded on the ice, desperate for air, but she couldn’t break through. I’m dead if I don’t get out of here, she thought. As frost bite consumed her, visions of the events, of the past few hours, flashed before her.
By Brenda Anne Kellaway3 years ago in Horror
The Amorphous
The Amorphous It stared at me, its gnarly grimy arms sprawling outwards, spiralling towards me, beckoning, dangerous, it slithered up the wall like black snakes, strangling all life out of a corpse-like body, coming closer, coming closer, its rancid smell filling the air like a choking hand, suffocating me. I couldn’t breathe. Keep breathing, I demanded of myself, don’t let it in! Panic-stricken I screamed, a hysterical, ear-piercing scream, the echoes reverberating off the surfaces like an assemblage of banshees, then receding into the darkness, weaker, broken, petering out and coming to rest. I shrieked again, so hard my throat burned like tiny stinging nettles on an already lacerated wound. I coughed, gagging from dryness, there’s nothing, nobody is here! Nobody is coming to help me.
By Brenda Anne Kellaway3 years ago in Fiction
COMPOUND 65
BANG! Pffft! Arrrgh! Gem woke startled. She shivered, disorientated, and shaken by the strong visuals in a disturbing dream. She slithered gingerly out from under her blankets, pulling back the bedclothes centimetre by centimetre, excruciatingly slowly! She was all too aware that Hover-Module1 could detect even the most miniscule of sounds, and could simultaneously, set off all the alarms in her precinct. As the Compound was still silent, she assumed the previous sounds were part of her dream and she quickly dismissed them. The room was pitch- black and she could barely see a metre in front of her. She grasped feverishly around in the loose panel above her bed, for the little heart shaped locket she’d hidden there three weeks ago. The locket was her most cherished possession and was her only keepsake from her parents. They weren’t allowed jewellery in the compound, ‘jewellery led to vanity,’ and vanity, according to ‘the Administrant,’ could lead to other, even more grotesque, sins. The slightest tinkling sound emanated from the chain of the locket, and Gem froze. Hover-Module1 was already above her head. She feigned snoring and luckily it worked, Hover-Module1 left to investigate another sound down the hallway. ‘I’ll never get away with this’, Gem muttered quietly to herself.
By Brenda Anne Kellaway3 years ago in Fiction
