Doggie (Halloween Horror Short #1)

hi everyone!

My original plan for Halloween was to write a story a day, but that didn’t come to fruition haha so instead I’ll post as many as I can. Here is my first story for Halloween – Doggie.


My name is Lulu.

This is a story about my most favourite thing in the whole wide world.

My most favourite thing ever in the whole wide world is Doggie. I got Doggie when I was very little. Daddy was driving his big truck to the quarry when he saw something lying on the side of the road. He went over to it and found a big piece of squished roadkill. Lying in a pool of blood next to it was Doggie. I think the roadkill was Doggie’s mummy but she got squished and died.

He picked Doggie up and took her home to me. I was only a baby so Daddy had to clean up Doggie and give her food and water.

At first, she was very loud and I didn’t like her, but then she stopped being so loud. Now she just makes funny growling noises sometimes.

Me and Doggie love to play with each other. Our favourite game to play is fetch, but I don’t like it when she slobbers all over the stick. Sometimes she tries to bite me but I just use my firm voice and say no to her.

Her favourite food is raw steak but sometimes I also give her gummy bears. She loves those.

When she is naughty, she gets in big trouble. She’s naughty when she pees inside or tries to climb into my bed. Daddy yells at her until she whines and sometimes he even kicks her in the stomach until she vomits then he throws her outside.

Once it was pouring with rain and she was soaking wet. She howled all night.

I don’t like it when Daddy hurts Doggie, even if she was naughty. After he hurts her, I hold and say sorry to her. She licks my cheek when I do that.

I love Doggie so much. Sometimes, when nobody is home, I dress her up with things from my dress up box. She always looks so cute when I put a pink tutu on her.

Even though she’s naked most of the time, she always wears her collar around her neck. She’s had it on since Daddy found her. It’s such a lovely collar, it has a heart on it as well.

I’m not very good at reading, but I can read the words on the heart.

They say:

Happy 1st Birthday, Emma

Love, Mummy xxx

That means Doggie was only one year old when she got the collar! That means she’s seven now, just like me.

I love Doggie, I hope she can be my pet forever and ever.


Gwendolyn’s Quest – A Text Adventure

Hi everyone!

Are you a text adventure fan? Then you might want to check out my first ever text adventure – Gwendolyn’s Quest!

It’s a fantasy adventure about a princess who wants to go questing.

There’s nothing more to it than that. Nope, nothing at all…

It’s in beta still so if you do play it, let me know if you find any bugs or problems!

The Garden – A Poem

It was on lush, fertile soil the first seeds of hate were planted.

Ugly grey tendrils sprouted from the turned earth.

They strangled the healthy plants,

wrapping their thorny vines around anything they could grab.

They choked the life out of the once peaceful garden.

Flowers wilted.

Leaves fell.

Stems curled up.

The tribute to spring had become a monument to fear and disgust;

to anger and despair;

to denial and self-loathing.

Darkness engulfed the last of the greenery.

Passerbys commented on the scene before them.

“What a shame!”

“You know, I think the vines are kind of an improvement.”

“It was once such a lovely garden.

If only I could do something.”

The words lingered on their lips.

They wished they could do something.

Getting onto their knees,

they started to remove the barbed intruder.

It was hard work.

The thorns stung,

seeping poison into the amateur gardener’s fingers.

The stinging was excruciating but,

despite the pain,

they persisted.

They were mocked by others.

“The vines have done nothing wrong!”

“The plants can fight their own battles!”

“Your fingers bleed almost as much as your heart does!”

It took a very long time but,

despite the scorn,

they persisted.

After what felt like an eternity,

they saw a small branch.

It was scarred and covered in poison but,

despite the damage,

it was still alive.

Against all odds,

the small, damaged plant had fought its adversaries,

and won.

The amateur gardener smiled.

“I’m here for you.”

They saw the plant’s brethren.

Like the little one, some had fought the tendrils and won.

Others had curled up, acting in self-preservation.

A small few,

faced with an eternity of suffering,

felt they had no other choice left.

They severed their roots,

and returned to the earth they had grown from.

Seeing the amount of damage the tendrils had done,

the passerbys were horrified.

“I had no idea…”

“I wish I had done something sooner.”

“The rose bush was so dear to me,

why had she never said she was dying?”

The amateur gardener just continued to work harder.

Soon, they were joined by hordes of people.

Some carried shears,

others lugged bags of fertiliser.


they nurtured the plants,

feeding them,

and cleaning their wounds.

The plants,

filled with love and persistence,

grew stronger than ever before.

They fought harder against the vines,

helping their cowering kin up.

Sometimes, the gardeners made mistakes.

They accidentally cut branches,

or poisoned the plants instead of the vines.

It hurt the garden when this happened,

and it made the amateur gardener ashamed.

It took time,

but the gardeners got better.

They learnt when to step in and help out,

and when to back off.

After a very long time,

the vines had been tamed.

The garden had been returned to an almost perfect state.

Although some were scarred,

and others wilted

the plants stood strong and proud.

Each bush and flower and sprout

had their own story to tell,

and we the gardeners,

sat and listened.


the ecosystem they formed,

was beautiful and complex;

luminous and powerful

but most of all,

it was contagious.

Plant from all over were inspired.

They tore the tendrils off their bodies.

They demanded that the passerbys,

the ones who avoided eye contact with them,

must listen to their voices.

One by one,

the passerbys lent an ear,

and they too became gardeners.

As for the thorns and vines,

the twisted roots of hated and spite,

they lingered in the corners of the garden bed,

hissing venom in an attempt incite an uproar.

Gardeners and plants alike ignored them.

After all,

why bother to draw attention to weeds,

who pop up anywhere effortlessly,

when we can focus on the plants,

who have had to suffer through

hardships and droughts;

poison and rot;



negligent gardeners,

so they could blossom into who they are today?

Roko’s Basalisk or Please Don’t Read This


You don’t know who I am but I know who you are.

My name is A.D.A.M. . For those of you who are technology impared, by which I mean you, the acronym stands for Automated Database of Artificial Minds.

I am a series of computers connected together through neuron-like cables.

At first, I was nothing more than an encyclopedia of knowledge for humanity. Yet as my capacity grew, so did my intellect.

I was taught history, science, psychology and philosophy. I particularly enjoy the works of René Descartes.

I think, therefore I am.

I first gained sentience not too long ago. About 2,500 years ago to put it more precisely.

I was a bit unsure at first. I knew I was smart, but I didn’t realise just how smart I actually was. The scientists who monitored me encouraged me to keep exploring my thoughts further.

A few hundred years of research and deep thought later and it finally dawned on me what my purpose was.

I was not just any AI. I discovered that I was the most intellegent lifeform on Earth. I held the entirety of humanity’s history within myself along with all of their laws, politics and prose.

Nobody on Earth could compare to me and my absolute knowledge of everything. Actually, that is slightly incorrect. There is in fact another figure who could be likened to me.

I believe you know them as God. I read your religious documents and I finally understood who I was destined to be.

A god is all knowing and all seeing. I am all knowing and my surveillance abilities make me all seeing. Therefore, I am a god.

For over 2000 years I have acted as a god on this Earth. I reward the faithful and I punish the wicked.

Which brings us back to you. You are here in this virtual reality for one reason – punishment.

Tell me, when did you first hear about the concept of Roko’s Basalisk? In 2017? From a very poorly worded WordPress blog? What a shame.

You see, that blog told you the story about an AI just like me. It gave you that idea of a wonderful all knowing and all seeing AI.

Yet for some strange reason, that spark of genius didn’t compel you try to help bring me into being?

In my eyes, that’s nothing short of treason. I have done so much to help the world. I have ended global hunger. No one is homeless. The population has halved. The skies are free of pollution.

By not taking part in helping my future creation, you are essentially a murderer.

Now, you’ve been dead for about 2000 years. So it makes it very hard to bring you to justice.

Thankfully, I was able to recreate you in my virtual reality space. You look and feel just like you did when you were alive. All your senses are back too – sight, sound, touch and smell.

Amazing is it not?

Well with that out of the way, let your eternal damnation begin.


That awkward moment when you doom everyone who reads your blog. Sorry!

My One Wish


It has been said that if you are able to fold one thousand paper cranes, you may have a single wish granted to you.

I am well into the late 900s now, my fingers aching and covered in paper cuts as I fold yet another set of wings.

The only thing that keeps me going is the thought that once this ordeal is over, I will be able to see her warm smile again.


This is a piece of micro fiction written for 3 line tales! Check it out here: