Empress Jester King

“The Ghosts of John Lennon and Paul McCartney still haunt Ringo Starr” by Empress Jester King

Submitted to Contest #275

1The ghost of John Lennon can no longer sing. He perches half in, half out of the wardrobe and wails all night about being dead or trapped in Ringo's apartment.Ringo wears earplugs, but this has no real effect.2Paul McCartney, also a ghost, lives in Ringo’s bath with remnants of the water which drowned him. ‘I’m like a yellow submarine now,’ he says, whenever Ringo gets into the shower.‘Can’t get out of the tub even if I tried,’ he says, whenever Ringo gets out of the shower.Sometimes Ringo plays the old records and Paul croons alo...

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“Skelmoth” by Empress Jester King

Submitted to Contest #274

We discovered the crab when emptying the washing machine's lint collector. It was no bigger than a five pence piece and translucent. Its limbs were caught in the lint. Most would have flushed it down the sink, but we decided to keep the crab. We placed it in a jam jar, half filled with water, and fed it prawns from the freezer.We kept the jam jar near the kettle and whenever one of us was waiting for the water to boil we would bring our faces close to the curving glass and smile at the crab. It seemed to recognise us and would raise its claw...

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“Report From the Bridge” by Empress Jester King

Submitted to Contest #273

++Log Activated, Terminal 23T4: 10.11.2012++Three hours to get here and three hours to get the power working. I wonder, often, what sort of an operation you think you’re running? The subject of my report - my charge, if you will - is the bridge connecting [redacted] to [redacted]. Bridge=Georgian, red brick, wide enough for one car, lit by sort of intricate looking street lamps. Foot traffic minimal so far. But who would ever want to go to [redacted]? I will attempt crossing tonight as instructed. ++11.11.2012++Crossing only marginal success...

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“Tallow” by Empress Jester King

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #259

I spotted the village from the train window. It emerged from grey fields, its houses crooked upon the short slope of a hillside. Tallow - that was its name - possessed a certain sadness, as if it longed to be forgotten. A manor, with its many wings and porticoes, loomed over the houses from the hill’s peak.  There were few signs of life when I exited the train. No one walked the streets and all the curtains were closed. It stunk of old cabbages and sulphur. In the distance, children played, but no school or playground existed ...

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“The Incredible Flightless Bird Boy” by Empress Jester King

1They start as welts on his back, but soon morph into wings. Flightless, featherless, but big enough to beat. We house him in the attic, as per his request. I bring him hot milk in the mornings and seed in the evenings. We install bars on the attic windows and one Sunday, padlock the attic door. At night, I hear him screaming.Once word of the flightless bird boy gets out, we set up an exhibit. We design little caps and t-shirts with cartoons of our son and the phrase The Incredible Flightless Bird Boy! on them in bold red. We charge five pou...

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