Two Short Stories
Darren Simpson

We’ve also been extremely lucky to have Nottingham based writer Darren Simpson create some beautiful stories about us and our adventures as Kathleen & Lily, you can read them below...

Surely Abhorations

The clouds above rolled and wrestled like black dragons, cracked by lightning and bubbling like the diabolical stew in the cauldron below. Kathleen puffed on her pipe. ‘What else?’ she asked. ‘I’m stumped,’ said Lily, stroking her little beard. They gazed into the glowing broth.
‘Ah!’ Kathleen clicked her fingers. She rummaged in her handbag and found amongst humbugs and bones some cats’ footfalls, a mountain’s root and a bag of fish breath; all went into the stew. With a flash the cauldron exploded, leaving in its place a wondrous glittering gown. ‘Crikey!’ hooted Lily. ‘We’ve done it again!’
Then the mob found them. ‘Conjurers of such exquisite finery are surely abhorations!’ they screeched. The witches shrugged and were led to the stake.
The gown was shredded, but fortunately Kathleen and Lily’s horde was safely hidden away, and is now preserved at the museum on Mansfield Road of Nottingham Shire.

Kathleen and Lily Turn Three

Look at the brats. It’s obscene. Three year old toddlers, stumbling around the cot in stiletto heels, art deco handbags full of sugar and snot. Cigarette cases and compacts twirl through the air above them, hanging from a sagging mobile. They flash as they catch the sun, spraying spots of silver and gold onto the nursery walls.
Just look at them. Grotty little urchins. They stagger like drunks, hanging onto the bars of the cot with infant fingers smothered in rings. Their faces still shine with mother’s milk, yet they wear masks of mascara, lipstick and rouge. Baby-blue eyes are demented by spidery scrawls, and crimson lips glisten with slobber. Look at their mouths. Do you see the tiny fangs there, tucked behind their twisted leers? They’re only small now, but they’ll get bigger, mark my words.
Don’t get close! Don’t even think about coos and cuddles. They’ll only spit and snap. They’re little monsters. Listen to them – they gurgle like goblins, and those raspy little noises can’t be random. They’re invoking demons, these two – demons of bygone ages, covered in flames, furs and rubber.
Look at the brats. Terrifying. I only dread to think of what they’ll grow into...