Gris Lee Stories

I lie, outstretched, on the bare bones mattress. With my life in bags, I accept my defeat against time itself. This place isn't mine; Not forever. So wait for me I'll be back; Looking at you from the other side of the hourglass.

Stacking boxes, locking the door, I say goodbye to the child that still isn't ready to grow up. Look at me kid. Papers are due, and so is the rent. We can't keep living in a dream if we want to stay in this imperfect heaven. I'm sorry to say, in order to gain we have to endure the growing pains. So stop hurting me, because nothing will change. Yes, I had to trash that silly story from year ten. Don't cry. We've made better things since then. You can scream all you like, but I can't control the clock. I'm not god. We're both more human Than we thought. I promise, I'll make it work. We can survive on our own. Live normally, like Deku without his quirk. Look I'm tired. You're tired. We've always been tired. So let's stop fighting, before we break ourselves. I'm kissing him goodbye now. I'm handing the last bag to mum. Time to go. You coming? ... Please? ... Don...

The clock ticks over to 4:33; I've stayed up a little too late again. I rub my eyes and close the half finished job application open on my phone. That, and the twenty other random tabs. Pictures, queries and porn. Each one marks minutes of another sleepless night. Even after clearing the cache, the thoughts don't disappear. The insistence that sleep is unnecessary leads me to open Facebook for the hundredth time that past day. Not much has changed, as expected. The same few posts with a couple of extra comments. Companies upload their scheduled ads. No one has touched that creative piece I posted. Not mine at least. The other one I shared got rave reviews. I hope the artist is happy. I hope they're proud. I'm not bitter. Okay, I'm bitter. But I'm honest. I am proud of them. Like I'm proud of my friends. I scroll back through one more time and play out their posts vicariously. Job interviews, degrees, houses, achievements, fame, glory, happiness, lov...

Posted by anonymous.  After the downfall of local cyber-ware enthusiast gang NONE MORE METAL, a collection of diary entries was discovered at [DATA EXPUNGED], New Rome. The details appear to be from one of the gang's more eccentric, potentially mentally unstable members. Read at your own discretion. Entry 2 ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Observational Diary By Maleficent November 2049 Dearest Diary, I am still reeling from the pleasure of last night. The long, tireless tirade of sitting alone, fulfilling pointless job requests has finally been rewarded with something more…deliciously wild. Sorry little Timmy, a casino heist is worth more than your lost cat. I was picked up by them from a random street corner, then escorted to the place of interest. Whilst I partook in my usual hobby of people watching, I felt one of the grunts nudge my arm with something cold. Looking up, he was holding ...

Posted by anonymous.  After the downfall of local cyber-ware enthusiast gang NONE MORE METAL, a collection of diary entries was discovered at [DATA EXPUNGED], New Rome. The details appear to be from one of the gang's more eccentric, potentially mentally unstable members. Read at your own discretion. Entry 1 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Observation Journal Personal Diary By Maleficent October 2049 Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow? With silver bells and cockle shells, and pretty maids all in a row. Mr Lombardi used to recite that poem to me often, usually when I was in detention. I’d always ponder why. Not necessarily why he recited poems, that was something common for him (quite the literary geek if you will). No, dear diary, I pondered why he chose that one, and always that one. It seemed like a nice poem on the surf...

A horror piece I'd written to submit to anthology but forgot to submit it on time. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Everyone anticipates the future, for good or bad. We as humans strive for development. We want the biggest, the newest, the best version of everything. We grow and gorge until the body of our society becomes a bloated mess, with stretch marks so thin they almost tear under the pressure. Perfection is not all it’s made out to be. Every day it was bright lights and business deals. Screams and smiles. Death and order. Repression before riots. The same three songs and adverts looped endlessly over the loudspeakers. The same three colours on everyone’s clothes. No swears. No heart. No choice. Every. Single. Fucking. Day. Only the seven of us seemed to have any sense. We tried to save them. Oh boy, did we try. Each one came back with the same response. “But…they wouldn...

Another taster from my ongoing horror novel project, From The Grey Forest. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Mr Adley’s just sort of hanging there, flopped over the branch like a fish out of water. There’s no sign of a struggle; just the haunting distortion on his face. Every one of his wrinkles looks creased and broken. If I didn’t know better I’d just think it was an old mannequin someone tossed out to save on trash takeout. But I’ve seen a lot of dead bodies in my time. In worse states too. Shanked, beaten and bruised, left to bleed out on the concrete. They never died under my hands at least. I would’ve gotten so many more years if that were the case. Still, none I’ve seen were anything as…disturbing as this. His eyes are more glazed over than a corner shop doughnut. Okay, that was a disgusting comparison. I can’t stop focusing on them though. They’re just so slimy. The way the light shimmers off th...