The blog is on hiatus for the Christmas season. New stories will return in January. Here’s one from the archives:
Nathan walked down the road where he lived, towards his house. He was seething with anger at the events he had just witnessed.
“No I’m not,” he said. “I’m not angry at all, and I haven’t witnessed anything.” He walked on, kicking bushes and low walls, taking his aggression out on inanimate objects.
“I’m definitely not doing that,” he said. “That’s ridiculous, and it would hurt.”
He reached the gate that led to his house. There was a small overgrown garden out front, while the house itself was small, old and dingy-looking.
“It’s not that bad,” he said. “Stop messing with me.”
He strolled up the garden path and went through the front door.
“No I didn’t,” he protested. “I’m still out here on the front path until you leave me alone. I don’t want to go inside.”
He went inside.
“No, I’m staying here on the path,” he said.
It began to rain.
“Stop it,” he said. “You can’t make me go inside.”
Heavy rain, that soaked through his clothes and make his foppish hair drip water underneath his collar. He felt cold and extremely uncomfortable.
“Enjoying the power you have, are you?” he snarled.
A vast flood of water flowed into the front garden, destroying bushes and flowers. It roared towards his legs and threatened to sweep him away.
“You’re just showing off now,” he yelled. “Alright, I’ll go in.”
The water vanished as if by magic. He went into the house, muttering about writers under his breath.