Tag Archive for: Jameson Grey

Crossing the Line

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by Jameson Grey

 

New Year’s Eve.

The day the last of my line dies. I’ve hired a boat for the occasion—a yacht, no less! Sailed out to the Line Islands. Currently sitting one second east of the International Date Line. Waiting.

I’ve requested the captain crosses the Date Line at midnight. Time it right, it can be beaten. The curse.

The crew’s happy enough. They’re getting paid either way.

The damn Barber family curse!

One dies at midnight. Every year.

It’s 11.59. The boat is firing up. I feel it. I am heading up on deck.

Crossing the line one last ti—

 

Jameson Grey

Jameson Grey is originally from England but now lives with his family in western Canada. His work has been published in Dark Recesses Press, Dark Dispatch, and in anthologies from Ghost Orchid Press, Black Hare Press and Heads Dance Press.
Website: jameson-grey.com

 

PUNK

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Punk—steampunk, cyberpunk, biopunk, dieselpunk—stories where technology is the main focus.

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He Liked to Watch

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by Jameson Grey

 

He liked to watch. That was Ted’s thing.

His wife would bring home one-night stands, and he’d sit behind the two-way mirror he’d installed, watching as she took lovers into their marital bed. She’d tie them to the bedposts, adding an extra frisson, and ride them until she was satisfied.

Only then would Ted appear, smiling.

He relished the fear and confusion his presence caused. He’d hand his wife his tie, or one of her silk stockings, and retreat to the corner of the room—where he’d stand, silent, as she slowly strangled her helpless conquests.

He liked to watch.

Jameson Grey

Jameson Grey is originally from England but now lives with his family in western Canada. His work has been published in Dark Dispatch, The Birdseed and anthologies from Ghost Orchid Press, Black Hare Press, Black Ink Fiction and Hellbound Books.
Website: https://jameson-grey.com

 

The Flowering

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by Jameson Grey

 

I’ve always loved to be loved.

I look down upon myself, endlessly gazing at my reflection in the spring, reminded of my late twin sister’s beauty. Of my beauty.

I cannot leave now.

The air is no longer air. It has shifted—throttling my lungs as it flows through—like breathing has reversed somehow. Light-headed nausea tangles my mind, my guts.

My skin, it mottles. Bones soften, wilt. I strain toward the sun.

My feet take root. Become roots, drawing sustenance from below.

At this spring, I’ve been reborn while I watch. And although I remain Narcissus, I am flowering.

Jameson Grey

Jameson Grey is originally from England but now lives with his family in western Canada. His fiction and poetry have been published by Ghost Orchid Press, Black Hare Press and Hellbound Books.

Website: jameson-grey.com

Little Truck Stop on the Prairie

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by Jameson Grey

 

Gunnars Diner [sic] reeked of rank meat—like the fridge was broken or the sous-chef hadn’t checked the expiry dates.

Sous-chef? Marilyn wondered. Did middle-of-nowhere greasy spoons even have them?

Her Freightliner was the only rig in the lot. Marilyn was beat, and hours from the next truck stop, but the smell convinced her groaning stomach it no longer wanted to eat.

“Coffee, please,” she said. “To go.”

The waitress smiled, yelling to the kitchen. “We got a lady trucker, Gunnar!”

Gunnar emerged, his apron stained blood-red.

His cleaver gleamed. Gunnar gleamed.

“Excellent, I ain’t cooked a lady in weeks.”

Jameson Grey

Jameson Grey is originally from England but now lives with his family in western Canada.  He also spent time in the Middle East as a child, which he understands makes him a third culture kid (TCK).  His story The Waiting Room was recently published in The Toilet Zone: Number Two.
jameson-grey.com