Phil Tennant
Bio
Londoner living in Perth WA. Divorced, two adult kids. My dog Nugget is my best mate. Always enjoyed reading & writing; hugely influenced by Stephen King's Salem's Lot. Write mainly Horror & Comedy or a combination of both.
Stories (23)
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Kevin 7
Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. However, Kevin had discovered this was not true in the case of the foyer of a movie theatre. Everyone was staring at him. Also, the fact he was wearing pyjamas probably didn’t help. Kevin looked around, confused and bewildered. Most of the crowd had returned to their business, moving along the expansive concourse, to or from their allocated cinema screen. A few still stared at him, a group of three girls giggled and whispered behind raised hands. Then, he started to feel what was becoming a familiar churning in the base of his stomach. Panicked, he began looking around, desperately looking for sanctuary, when his eyes fell on the sign for the toilets. For some reason, known only to his subconscious, he announced, rather too loudly,
By Phil Tennant3 years ago in Fiction
Be Careful What You Wish For
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window… “So, what do you think?” Sally asked, turning towards Steve, who was engrossed in that morning’s newspaper. “What do I think about what?” He answered distractedly, not looking up from his paper. He was then startled when the cushion sally threw burst through his newspaper and hit him square in the face. “What the fuc..!” he exclaimed.
By Phil Tennant4 years ago in Fiction
Ice in the Blood
Ice in the Blood The main first class dining hall of the Titanic was a grand affair. Tables mostly seating 12, were laid with the finest silver flatware, porcelain dining sets and crystal glassware to match. This all sat on crisp, white linen table clothes, draped over heavy oaken tables. The décor was suitably grandiose, white panelled walls, interspersed with ornate pilasters topped with the busts of Greek gods surrounded the hall, which sat the entire width of the enormous vessel. The strap work ceilings, again in white, complement the setting perfectly. The captains table sat central to all of this, no grander than any of the others, but somehow imposing.
By Phil Tennant4 years ago in Fiction
My Bird's Eye View
It was night-time. The yellowing glow of a harvest moon illuminated the countryside. Pin pricks of light millions of years old dotted the cloudless black/blue sky. I was staring down from on high into a gently swaying sea of corn. My heart was beating more rapidly than it had any right to. Below, the slightest movement attracted my attention, and my head jerked around to focus on the cause. A field mouse was scampering up a stalk to feast on an ear of corn. The stem rocked slightly under the tiny creature’s movement, and it was this which had caught my eye. Suddenly, I was plummeting, swooping towards the ground with alarming speed, my heart now racing impossibly fast. The small rodent was my only focus, appearing larger, almost magnified in my vision. In seconds I was grasping out with razor sharp talons, plucking the creature from its perch, then soaring upwards with one push from powerful wings, levelling out to land high on a nearby tree. The mouse was already dead, pierced by my deadly claws when I began ripping its still warm flesh from the bones. Then grabbing the whole carcass in my beak and swallowing, feeling my throat constricting, squeezing it down, then...
By Phil Tennant4 years ago in Fiction
Death Inc.
Technically, Jerry Carroll had been dead for seven days now. That was, dead in every conventional medical sense of the word anyway. It had all come as a bit of a shock to him, as you would imagine. Firstly, he had been somewhat down on his luck anyway, but being killed had really been a downer. Secondly, his death had been a huge mistake and it should have been someone else who’d copped it. He attempted a heavy sigh as he pondered this, but it sounded more like he was blowing a raspberry, as the flap of skin where his throat had been cut vibrated noisily in the escaping rush of air. Typically, he had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and had gotten involved with the wrong people. There was no denying he had been involved with some slightly dodgy dealings but had never intentionally hurt anyone and certainly didn’t deserve this. It should have been one of the other couriers, Al the Snake, who went on this particular delivery. Admittedly his memory was patchy at best; but now it was cracking up like an iceberg drifting further and further into warm waters.
By Phil Tennant4 years ago in Fiction
Double Exposure
Sandra sat in her car composing herself for several minutes before opening the door to the summer’s heat and stepping out onto the sun-baked pavement. She was an attractive brunette and to her pleasure, most people guessed her age at around the mid-thirties, almost ten less than her actual years. Although anxious, her pretty face showed little of her nervousness, a trace of a smile playing across her lipstick reddened lips. Only her deep brown eyes, darting around to take in the unfamiliar surroundings, showed anything of her true emotions. Beneath her plain white blouse, her heart was racing, and as she opened the gate to number 23 and started up the path, it seemed to accelerate another few degrees. The semi-detached house she approached could have been any house, in any street, in any number of London’s suburbs. It looked well maintained; the gardens were neat and tidy, the flower beds weeded, the lawns trimmed. Swallowing deeply, almost theatrically, Sandra pulled back the brass door knocker and rapped it twice against the Oxford blue door. She heard sounds coming from deep in the house and then footsteps approaching the front door.
By Phil Tennant4 years ago in Fiction
Skin Deep
Despite appearing on the cover of just about every glamour magazine in the world by the age of fifteen, Vienna Ritz was not happy with her looks. Her breasts weren’t big enough. Her Bum was too big. Her legs were short, her thighs were fat, she needed a tummy tuck. Her lips were thin, her cheeks were flat, and her nose was too square. The list seemed never ending. She was heiress to a family fortune, so was not without the means to do something about her looks. However, much to her chagrin, until she was eighteen, she could not access her fortune apart from an allowance. That was barely enough to keep her in Gucci and skiing holidays for the year. Nor could she legally undergo enhancement surgery (not cosmetic surgery, that was just sooo tacky^*without her parent’s permission. At least not in this country. She knew because she had researched this.
By Phil Tennant4 years ago in Fiction
In Heaven
“I’m sorry Gladrial, but you are quite wrong. Things hav...” “Travis, actually. Vince.” Interrupted the younger looking angel, hesitantly, but with a certain measure of glee. The older man’s face darkened, as he visibly tried to restrain himself from a snap response. And failed.
By Phil Tennant4 years ago in Fiction
Green To Go
There was little natural light illuminating the tiny living room, which was probably a good thing. The place was a mess. Empty food containers and beer cans littered the floor and coffee table. Ryan sat in a tattered recliner in the centre of this clutter, like a desert island surrounded by the flotsam and jetsam from his sunken ship. The curtains were drawn closed over the rooms solitary window, but as several of the rings holding them were broken, a thin strip of light breached the darkness. However, it did little to disperse the gloom hanging in the air, which seemed almost physical. The room was sparsely furnished. Apart from the armchair and coffee table there were only three other items. An old wooden dining chair stood up against the wall, next to the curtained window. A television, which sat on then carpeted floor, and which had been rendered useless since the electricity had been disconnected. The other piece was a large, oak bookcase which took up the entire wall across from the window and dominated the area in an almost claustrophobic manner. Books were stacked higgledy-piggledy on the shelves, in no apparent order.
By Phil Tennant4 years ago in Horror
Skating Away
Skating Away By Philip Tennant Katy put one skate clad foot tentatively out onto the ice. The glassy surface simultaneously crunched and squeaked under her blade. The ice looked thick enough, and her friends had told her they’d been out on it already. She could even see the tracks from other skaters further out on the pond, despite the light dusting of snow that had fallen that morning. But there was just that niggling doubt at the back of her mind, like some sixth sense was warning her not to. After much hesitation, Katy took a deep breath of the sharp winters air, then lifted her trailing leg, and pushed away at the same time, and she slid slowly out onto the ice.
By Phil Tennant4 years ago in Fiction
