Site of the writer Andrew Wood

Posts tagged ‘tortured soul’

Returning Flash Fiction

Here is a flash fiction – the first I have written in a long time. Enjoy!


Flash Fiction – Intensity

I look down upon the jade surface; it’s many slender soldiers pointing up at the sun, yearning for action. One stain of crimson, a second… and a third. What is this? I glance to my right hand, seeing the hardened edge of the Reaper’s touch in my grasp. A whirling sense of regret ebbs through the tunnels of my heart as I realise the events of moments past.

Things were once so sweet and intoxicating I could not resist the allure of the embrace – a lover’s embrace. I had lived in pure bliss, if not but for a moment amidst the eternity of the cosmos, and I did not want for anything else. The abrupt flash of her final image haunted my waking moments; leading that coffin to where it was to be last seen by all who loved her; breaking down as I ran my finger along its edges after placing it down – there was then an emptiness that nothing would ever fill up no matter how willing my soul was.

What lay before me was the thing I had grown to hate, the person whom I had learned from a young age to be my worst enemy. I stared wearily into the face, twisted and strewn with inexplicable pain and anguish – a mere reflection of some of my own torment. His stature was flowing in its resting place; the intense blue eyes still living, burrowing into me with a piercing look of resolve and disbelief. Something was stirred within me from this moment of timelessness – why are you doing this? You are killing me, and yet you are the one who has culminated from these feelings? If you do not stop…

I realised then that I stared into my own eyes, trying my damnedest to be the saviour of my own existence.

He pleaded… I pleaded.


In A Dark Place

I have been in and out of a dark place for months. I have been absent both mentally, and physically. I have not been looking after myself in these ways either. Sometimes things are easy, but then a few moments later they are not. I still yearn to become what I feel I can easily be; but when I sit in that seat, grip the steering wheel, and turn the keys in the ignition… nothing happens. I have been sitting in that driver’s seat for a long time. I am starting to re-develop the urge to open up, and have a look at the engine in an attempt to get the damn thing running.

I know many will not have even noticed the absence, but to those who have done; and who have messaged me; I thank you 🙂

Try To See The Sunny Side

Hey guys,

Long time no post (Again!)

There comes a time when things that have been going on for a lot longer than you would like – be they life events, finding a new job, settling down, etc – become such a burden and end up being too much emotionally. Basically things are stagnant in my life in terms of work and trying to move on. I am at the point in my life, and have been for quite a while now, where I want to settle with my partner and have my own life instead of being constantly reliant on my family. This one thing gets to me more than anything else at the moment apart from worrying constantly about other impending situations.

As regards my writing I have been, what can only be described as, slacking quite badly. I have, however, short listed the literary agencies I am planning to approach with my manuscript (Fingers crossed!). This is no doubt a step forward, but in my mind it is a step that should have been taken a long time ago. I have been creating characters for book two and producing small excerpts for each one so at least something gets done at some point instead of lying dormant for months on end.

There are a few other things that I am having to deal with, but these are things that I will not actively put up on the internet.

I am trying my hardest to keep smiling and I have also vowed to myself to rekindle my online activity.

Thank you for reading 🙂

Flash Fiction #11

This is not part of the mini-series so please don’t be confused 😛

Flash Fiction #11 is here!

Deathly Desire

How much can the alcohol cloud it? Numb it? Chase it away? Kill it? I know there’s something that needs to be killed. Vanquished. I can feel it within my mind as I pound my fist against my temple, the pain growing distant and my eyesight  growing fuzzy at the edges. What is it that drives me to this? To the wanton yearning of a tortured soul, masked by a grey blanket of pain, sorrow and pure hatred? What is it? Can someone tell me, please! I’m lost. No, maybe not. I’m clear-headed of course – I know what to do.

There it is, on the table, shining in the moonlight – it’s like a beacon of hope to me. However, for some, it’s the final nail. The room is but a cavern, much like my own mind, where the evil winged bringers of sorrow hang teasingly above my head, in the rafters, in the shadows of my own criminality and unjust feelings. The bourbon is like a tonic, an elixir that cleanses my very soul of its corruption, its fractures and its deep, self-inflicted scars. There is always an option… come on, now. Do you want this? Seriously?

Another full tumbler of soothing, smoky fire-water gives me something to cling on to. What it is is anybody’s guess, but it’s something tangible for my essence to wrap its shallow fingers around, warming it from a deathly-looking pale to a barely human pink. It suddenly slips away from me; a glimmer of humanity that I have sealed the fate of. Why? Who knows why? Who cares… why?! Why this? Why that? Why anything? That’s all I damn well hear from the crowds – why would you do it? Do you want an answer? I don’t have one for you…

My hand rests on the handle of the .45 before my fingers slip into position, ready to take the responsibility of justice onto its shoulders. Forget the tumbler, this time, it’s the entire bottle that needs to lubricate my mind; my resolve. With such a clear night sky it should make my journey to heaven quicker. Heaven? You kidding? You won’t be going to the pearly gates at all, my friend. Look at yourself! To hell with you and everything you’ve done.

Hell? Ha ha! I’m already there, the burning gaze of Satan following my every movement; his trident ready to thrust my despairs into the open. I face my fears no more, not in the real world – the real world is full of politicians, ex wives, lost relatives, war, disease and all the rest of it. I don’t want that. The mouth of the gun is cold against my head, much like the feelings inside me; icy and inert. The phone rings suddenly. I ignore it. Through the moment’s hesitation I hear the answer machine click in. The beginning of the message is just a loud, echoing blast – this is what has to be done.

A tear of finality trickles down my face as amidst of the darkness I hear a voice – ‘It’s me… I forgive you’.