Monday 1st October

Make-it-up monday (2)

The following stories were inspired by the above image. To read more stories or view the current photo prompt, click here.

“Sky’s falling.”
“Sky’s falling. They’re talking about it on the telly. Lots of fire and rocks and things.”
“So that’s it then?” He closed the book he was reading and turned to better hear his wife who was cooking away in the kitchen.
“Spose so. Shame really.”
“Damn shame. What are the politicians doing?”
“Looks like blind panic mostly.”
“And the religious leaders?”
“Makes sense.” He stood up and stretched his back. “Rightio. I might go for a walk down to the shop and grab a paper. Did you want anything?”
“Are they open?”
“Why wouldn’t they be?”
“Armageddon sweety.”
“That’s right. Forgot about that. Well, what should we do? Haven’t done an armageddon before.”
She stepped out of the kitchen, the Sunday roast presented perfectly on a silver tray. “It is dinner time. Might as well eat.”
“Right you are.” He said as he made his way to the kitchen table. “Right you are.”

About the author: S. John Davis is a Gippsland based author, musician and occasional cheese eater. His debut novel is due out ‘any day now’* but for now he makes his shorter works available from his facebook page.

*Any day now may actually be longer than previously indicated.

* * *

He had almost told her once, during a long bout of drinking in their second year of university. She was heartbroken at the time, after walking in on her boyfriend and her roommate mid-coitus. Ever since high school he had been her shoulder to cry on, the dependable friend who would help her piece her world back together when it was falling apart. He was the coward who was never quite able to tell her what he wanted to, the tortured fool who would quietly watch her move onto the next in a long line of mistakes.

He wanted to tell her then, but the bottle of tequila they had shared was nearly empty and she had fallen into a drunken sleep on his shoulder before he could ever summon the words.

But now the world was falling apart, literally, and as far as he was concerned there was nothing left to lose. Death itself was raining from the skies, sulphur filled the air and people filled the streets praying to whichever deities they put their collective faith in.
He didn’t care for prayer though, if he was going to face his last moments on this Earth, he was going to do it beside her. The journey across the city had not been without its dangers, fissures cracked open and giant sink holes had swallowed skyscraper’s whole, but he was relieved to see her building still stood unscathed amongst the chaos. A small voice told him this was folly, that she had probably already fled the city, but he refused to listen to it — he had to find her, it was the only thing that mattered now.

Kicking the door to her apartment open, his heart leapt to see her standing out on the balcony with a bottle of tequila clutched in her hand. “There’s something I need to tell you,” he said between gasps.

“No need,” she answered with a smile. “I already know. Drink?”

She handed him the bottle, and together they watched the world burn.

About the author: TC Phillips lives in tropical Central Queensland where he lives with his loving wife, three children, two spoilt cats and an overactive imagination. After embarking on a Masters in Creative Writing and getting some of his own work published by various outlets, he founded Specul8: Central Queensland Journal of Speculative fiction in 2015 and eventually turned it into Specul8 Publishing in 2018. A true fan of all that is weird and wonderful, he enjoys introducing new writers to the world and occasionally putting his own twisted works together as well. His collection of shorter works Tattle Tale and Other Stories is also available from Specul8 publishing, but only because the editor owes him a reluctant favour.

Specul8 Publishing can be found on those damn-fangled interwebs at and on Facebook at

TC Phillips also occasionally feeds his own ego on Facebook at

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