EJ Ferguson
Bio
EJ Ferguson is a UK-based writer and occasional poet. She holds a BA in Creative Writing from University of South Wales, and is perpetually working on a debut novel. She is often found buried beneath soft blankets and two enormous cats.
Achievements (6)
Stories (17/0)
- First Place in Return of the Night Owl Challenge
Until the Rain StopsFirst Place in Return of the Night Owl Challenge
10:21am The steam whistle blasts and echoes through the valley, and the noise of it haunts the people there. A daughter in her apron is in the kitchen, scrubbing the grease of last night’s rarebit from the pan. She hears it through the window and gives a low cry as the blood turns to glass in her veins.
By EJ Ferguson2 years ago in Fiction
The Death of Small and Silent Things
Boot prints were churned into the mud. My feet vanished into them as I hopped from one to the next as if they were stepping stones, my light-up trainers flashing red with every hop. It was drizzling and I was buried in the depths of a mackintosh. The hood kept falling forward over my eyes so I wasn't aware of my grandfather standing in the last set of boot prints until I collided with the back of his legs. My sleeves flapped as I teetered dangerously.
By EJ Ferguson2 years ago in Confessions
The Window To Nowhere
There are eels under the house. Growing up at the lake, whenever my brother and I dashed to the water to swim, my father would always shout after us. Be careful or the eels will bite off your toes! My brother, Oscar, had caught one once while fishing from the deck. He’d put it in a bucket and we watched it knotting itself over and over, filling up the bucket with stinking greyish slime. It was gross enough to convince us that the eels were indeed best avoided. But I’d had no idea how many there were, swarms of them lurking in unseen places.
By EJ Ferguson3 years ago in Fiction
- Third Place in SFS 7: Long Thaw
The Frozen Rabbit and The FoxThird Place in SFS 7: Long Thaw
Laura was filling up the kettle for a morning cup of coffee when she spotted the dead rabbit through the kitchen window. For a scattered second, she didn’t believe her eyes and then in the next moment she did believe it, because of course – of course – the bloody rabbit was dead.
By EJ Ferguson3 years ago in Fiction