Addison Alder

Joined March 2023

88 stories

Bio

Writer of Wrongs. Discontent Creator. Editor of The Gristle.

100% organic fiction 👋🏻 hand-wrought in London, UK 🇬🇧

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Stories (88)

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What I Hear When There is Nothing to Hear
Sleepless, small hours, anxiety. I entreat cotton, hair and teeth, Let their sounds placate my agony. Eager earworms hatch internally.
By Addison Alderabout a year ago in Poets
Deep Shore. Runner-up in Moment of Silence Challenge.
Sleek-slowly I traverse the lake. I find it wholesome to be alone. Luscious quiet, the chill, the wake, Envelop me, a blood-filled stone.
By Addison Alderabout a year ago in Poets
Metalhead
Suddenly the sound was missing. I cupped my ears, panic-stricken, Lost onstage, my band still playing. End of malleus and membrane.
By Addison Alderabout a year ago in Poets
Town Cryer
Christopher liked working as a cleaner, mopping and dusting and making the place nice. He liked the anonymity too. No-one ever said hello or thanks. And he was fine with that.
By Addison Alderabout a year ago in Fiction
Mantaman
Matiu couldn't watch his parents argue anymore. His mum would complain about his father's drinking, then his father would respond with a raised hand... Like the truth was too knotty and buried. They could only bicker now.
By Addison Alderabout a year ago in Fiction
Viscera. Top Story - August 2024. Content Warning.
It's pretty comfortable, this dentist's chair. I’m cushioned by patent leather, and kept warm by the surgical sheets laid over me. Steel kidney dishes sit on the trolley next to me, their contents concealed beneath cloth.
By Addison Alderabout a year ago in Horror
The Shot and The Scream
Written for Raymond G. Taylor's "Girl With The Golden Earring" Unofficial Challenge. This is the penultimate chapter of the novel The Shot and The Scream. Journalist Missen Purdew is obsessed with The Scream – a painting synonymous with madness. The artist, Edvard Munch, died in 1940, having never married and leaving many questions about his relationships and his sanity. Now, in 1948, Purdew's quest brings him to the person who knew Munch best, who was present for both 'the shot' and The Scream...
By Addison Alderabout a year ago in Art
Surprise!
Harry calls. He's coming into town. Work thing. Could he crash at mine tonight? "Sure," I say. This isn't unusual for Harry. He swings through the city every now and again, and we catch up. But today is different. Today's my birthday.
By Addison Alderabout a year ago in Fiction
Fierce Tears. Content Warning.
I don't know how, but, mother, you are alive again. I have mourned you for two years. I have wept and cursed at what happened to you. I have raged at the callous systems and careless politicians who created a living hell and then imprisoned you there, where your body curled and withered, a prison within a prison, condemned to a suffocating descent towards a choking death, terrified and alone.
By Addison Alderabout a year ago in Fiction
Sugar Crash
"Did I go overboard with the cakes?" Daphne says, angling her Battenberg next to her Victoria Sponge. We spent the morning festooning the riverboat with bunting and balloons. And now the cakes – and the sun! – are out. I can't imagine a more perfect day for the Windlesham Ladies High Tea and Boating Society's Annual Cake Bake.
By Addison Alderabout a year ago in Fiction
Murder on the American Express
LadySkywalker: I hear u hv a problem with a person I wasn't sure if I'd hear back, but here she is. I chose her out of all the people offering this service because of the female username.
By Addison Alderabout a year ago in Criminal
Dead Dog Days
It's traditional on summer days for a certain six-word phrase to dash our hopes of outdoor leisure: "Here's Helen Willetts with the weather."
By Addison Alderabout a year ago in Poets