Zerrakhi
Joined July 2009 and calls The Outer Hoard home.
20 stories, 12 challenges, 107 comments, and 9 friends
Australian, born in 1977, possibly human. Haven’t written fiction in a long time, but “Zerrakhi” was a character name I used back in the day and I’ve always liked it. I dabble in creativity of all kinds.
Stories
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Water Within, Water Without
I decided I should talk to her about her memories. This would give me some clues, and if I could get the people here to talk about dry land, then, somewhere, there would be dry land. The people and the scenery were connected, part of the same dream. &#...
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The Ocean of Thought
I awoke on a boat, which rocked one way and then the other, doing something horrible to my stomach. I struggled to my feet and looked around, which wasn’t worth it. No sign of land, no cloud in the sky, nothing. “Hi,” a woman’s ...
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The Inadequate Cheesegrater
“This cheesegrater isn’t supercalifragilisticexpialidocious enough,” complained Bob. “That’s ‘cos it’s old. Antidisestablishmentarianism’s younger than that grater,” replied Dan, appending a clitic ...
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Ode to a computer game
I originally wrote the following poem for school back in 1993. In preparation for a medieval-themed festival that year, we had to write love poems to inanimate objects in the form of Shakespearian sonnets. However, we were not taught the correct rhymin...
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The Prophecy
Following the thread of the eight-legged hunter Many shall descend upon the place of fig leaves Each with their instrument leaving a thousand marks So that another may complete the work.
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A Very Personal Message
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Vampire Women
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Focus
Witches had owned the cottage for generations, and arguably still did, although Amanda Clarice Wilmore didn’t think of herself as a witch. She dabbled in everything, which had included magic ever since she’d inherited the tools of her grand...
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A Strange Wakening
The day usually begins with opening one’s eyes. It’s very strange to be woken by light that fades into view as your eyelids become more and more transparent and then stop existing, and to find that you’re floating above your pillow wi...
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The Terrible Quest
Death has his scythe. As for Fear, she throws snowballs. She has many guises, but suppose you are in a forest at dusk, and you see a young girl, perhaps eight years old, skipping playfully through the snow and between the twisted branches. You hear wol...
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The Misplaced Earth
Things might have been different if the Earth were not in the wrong part of the sky. To the people who live on this world, our ship appeared as a new star in the night, and from the moment they could see it, they knew with certainty that it was nothing...
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Where The Toys Go
Life’s lessons learned. Never have an affair with someone claiming to be the King of the Fairies. Marilyn sat on the grass, the scattered toys all around her, eating a pale blue apple she’d picked on her last walk by the river. It must have...
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Memory and Futility
It’s been a long, long time since I had any new thought, but I remember every old thought I’ve ever had. I’ve pondered the things I’ve seen that ought to be impossible, and wondered what else that ought to be impossible is true....
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How It Begins
This is the first sentence. But before there could be a first sentence, there had to be a first crime. And a first conviction.
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The Mundane Explanation
I press one. This needs thinking about. As I pace back and forth, I realise I feel detached, like I’m observing this in the same way a writer observes the characters in a story-in-progress. Perhaps that’s the best way. Treat it as a puzzle ...
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A Matter of Priority
That would be a pile of gold coins minus five bucks if I didn’t do something. All coins have their own special character, tiny variations in the metal that give them a personality, and you can’t let people just take them away from you. I kn...
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Songs Between My Tears
Drifting helplessly into strange, foreign lands, I find myself humming an old folk tune in fragments interspersed with tears, music being the only thing I can think of to numb my pain. Every healing word I know is void Watching silence greet every desp...
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Tastes Like Chicken
“In that case, get me a spoon,” instructed Ron as he sat down. “Get it yourself!” returned Derrick. “Come ooon,” said Ron. “Tell you what, if I chicken out and never actually touch the stuff, I’ll wash up...
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The Enchanted Melodica
So long as I had that, the darkness was my friend. It helped me concentrate. I played some more notes on my recovered melodica, and floated towards the ceiling. Then I changed to another tune, quickening the tempo, and drifted from the room. The dragon...
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Creator's End
I am the creator of the universe. But now that I’ve finished, I’m all out of ideas. Which is why I’m writing this suicide note. How does God commit suicide? Well, omnipotence has a part to play. So does a very special package that I&#...
