RJ Derby

Joined August 2020

4 stories

Bio

I was drawn to the written word by literacy influences such as Stephen King, H.P. Lovecraft, Clive Barker, Ray Bradbury, Neil Gaiman, Peter Straub, Edgar Allen Poe, and Bram Stoker.

I live in WA, Australia

Stories (4)

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Nocturne
Evening spreads its wings Across setting sun’s delight As a stalking spirit brings Passing glows in the night
By RJ Derby5 years ago in Poets
Perfectly Imperfect
‘Perfection,’ I said. ‘What’s the root cause, do you think?’ My grandpa, “Gramps,” was sitting across from me at the café table, examining his coffee. He’d been sitting for the last five minutes, giving me time to “chew over my thoughts,” as he often called it. I recall the many times the old bugger would say, ‘it happens this way with you young ones. You all seem to live inside your heads… or on your doodle-lackey devices.’ And then he would tell me how he’d once watched a young girl, head glued to her phone, walk into a street sign. ‘And it was a good mashing, too, Jackie-boy. Idiot girl had spoiled her nice white blouse with the blood! Streamed out of her nose and down her chin.’ I can’t quite remember how many times I’d heard that story over the months leading up to this day.
By RJ Derby5 years ago in Horror
Selfie
‘How much for this?’ asked Karen as she placed the item on the counter. ‘There’s no price on it.’ The cashier was an old woman with silvery hair thinning on top. Her skin was brown, sagging and seeming as if it hung from her brittle bones. Her eyes held the expression as though she’d seen much suffering in her life, they were dull, cloudy, almost lifeless. The old woman stood from her rickety chair (the cracking sounds her bones made as she pulled herself to her feet were as loud as the creaking of the old chair) and hobbled towards the counter, eyeing the item Karen had placed there. Karen noted the way the old woman walked, with a stoop, leaning forward with her arms dangling down in front of her like she was carrying invisible weights.
By RJ Derby5 years ago in Horror
Icy Rent
It was always the same. No matter what Mark did, the images were still there. After two goddamn years, Mark couldn’t understand why he could not stop thinking about his cheating wife.
By RJ Derby5 years ago in Humans

RJ Derby

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Nocturne

Perfectly Imperfect

Selfie

Icy Rent

Stories (4)