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Storage of stories written for The Bradbury, 2025. |
| Various stories created at the (hopeful) rate of one a week for the year 2025, |
| Self Assessment Jason considered himself in his morning mirror. It was the old, familiar face that peered back at him, rather more stubbled than usual thanks to his not having broached the matter of shaving yet. He raised a hand to rub the stubble thoughtfully. It felt pleasantly rough under his touch. His hand dropped away as he considered his face. Not unduly handsome, yet with a tough, experienced look that he felt must be quite attractive. The stubble added to this impression and he wondered whether it would be worth growing a beard again. But that reminded him of how they itched at one stage and then the difficulties of shaping it quite correctly. Best to keep it clean, he thought. Still, he gazed at his reflection. This would make quite a good photo for the cover of his first publication. His hair was a little wild but that windswept look was very popular at the moment. Yes, he might just leave it as it was today. Then he noticed that, towards the back of his head, a tuft was standing up and making his head appear strangely distorted. He smoothed it down with his hand but it kept on springing back. A quick dash of water from the tap persuaded it to stay down and he resumed his study. The brow was broad and smooth, with just enough hint at lines to indicate a serious disposition. A lock fo hair at the front described a jaunty swoop above one eye, a suggestion of derring do and eagerness for adventure. The eyes were deeply set, enough to be interesting at least, some indeterminate colour between blue and green, and again lines radiated from them at the corners to indicate a sense of humour. His interest switched to the nose and he noticed a light white spot on its end. It completely spoiled the effect he’d been building in his mind. A finger came up and scratched at the spot. A flake of dry skin fell away under the finger’s pressure, leaving a larger, angry, red blotch where it had been. Suddenly he looked quite ridiculous. The image of his cover photo vanished, only to be replaced by a picture of himself as a clown. He smiled up at God and turned to prepare his shaving tackle. Word count: 385 For The Bradbury, Week 9 2025. |
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