Paul Wilson
Bio
On the East Coast of England (halfway up the righthand side). Have some fiction on Amazon, World's Apart (sci-fi), and The Runechild Saga (a fantasy trilogy - I'm a big Dungeons and Dragons fan).
Stories (31)
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Hunger
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. It was a lonely waxen stump, with creamy beads of frozen time stretching down its shaft and a tiny flame dancing upon its tip. The candle was a false beacon, a lure, and it worked its terrible magic on everyone who saw it.
By Paul Wilson4 years ago in Fiction
Where Dragons Dwell
"There weren't always dragons in the Valley," the village headman revealed. The large, opulent chair he sat in creaked in complaint as he leant back, suggesting it was every bit as old as the person that sat in it. Thick legs swung up and over the edge of the large oak desk dominating the small office, and the heels of well-used, black leather boots came to rest upon its surface. The headman lifted his left hand and pinched a scruffy grey beard between fat thumb and index finger, the ring finger having been taken off behind the knuckle and reduced to a badly-healed stump. The wrinkles around his eyes deepened as deep thought passed behind them. "I seem to remember a time when nothing bigger than a cow could be found down there, but when Hellsmouth reminded us how it got its name more than dragons sought escape from the mountain's fiery temper."
By Paul Wilson4 years ago in Fiction
The Future of Humanity
There was a shifting in the ground, as if the planet wasn't as stable as usual. A stiff breeze like that found blowing across a flat, featureless, northern grassland pressed upon her face, mercilessly cold. It breathed through the fabric of her lab coat and the cotton blouse beneath like they weren't there, stroking her skin with gooseflesh. Then her legs gave way.
By Paul Wilson4 years ago in Fiction
In The Blood
Leanne Thompson sat quite still at the bottom of the stairs, her husband's favourite cream shirt held in white-knuckled fists. Her face remained glacial, ice-blue eyes fixed upon the door; it was the only way to keep the raging vortex churning beneath her breastbone imprisoned.
By Paul Wilson4 years ago in Horror
The man next door
I was the first to arrive, but at the time I didn't realise how lucky that made me. With something approaching mild bemusement I slipped the silver key into the lock and turned it. There were the faintest of clicks, and the wall of scepticism my mind had built concerning this whole situation came tumbling down.
By Paul Wilson4 years ago in Fiction
Weezle's Snowflake
There was a time when snow wasn’t like the snow we know today. Snowflakes used to be very big, so that the children of the world could see each one clearly and marvel at the different shapes. They were so busy watching the snowflakes fall from the sky and melt they didn’t see Santa delivering presents. That’s what snow was for.
By Paul Wilson4 years ago in Fiction
