Welcome to the Teapot Nebula.

One Hundred Words. Infinite Worlds.

A small glimpse further into my mind, its a dark place with many cobwebs and often forgotten about. This blog was about drabbles, but has evolved into a few other random writings, or witterings when I'm not abandoning it alltogether for other crafty pursuits.

Tuesday, 27 September 2011

a journal entry

Journal entry September 27th 2025,

The world ended, but not by us, first contact. Fucking aliens. They sent out ships and seeded the world with bio-mechanical creatures that ate our weapons and electricity. There is no power, no plastic, all the cities are gone and nothing left of society. Ding dong the internet is dead, big oil is gone, mobil phones, all the damn bankers, ninety percent of the population and every silicon chip. They came and ate the world and spit out a new one.

The God Technology is dead long live the Gods of Fire, Steam and Darkness.

Chimera writing prompts: a letter and post apocalypse

Tuesday, 13 September 2011

the red death ball

The girl stood with her velvet gloved fingers pressing against dark wood and black iron. The sound of music and laughter drifted from beneath the door. ‘Let me in.’ she called. The girl blinked back tears. The door was locked tight. She gripped the folds of her cream coloured gown and knelt on the icy stone steps. She peered through the keyhole as screams filled the air. The girl pulled back with a cry, horror shining in her eyes. Her paste diamond masque fell to the earth as red blood seeped beneath the locked doors, and screams echoed all around.

written while listening to Hanna Pestle's Red Death Ball which was inspired by Masque of the Red Death

Tuesday, 2 August 2011

the owl

The grey owl was hidden by a dusty layer of dirty snow as it perched huddled on a rusty car. The owl was betrayed by the slow blink of his green eyes. I gripped my basket tightly rummaging in the rusting hulks of dead cars. ‘Fly away.’ I thought furiously pulling at a tangle of copper wire, the cold metal burning through my frayed leather gloves. In the distance the blocky shapes of the city. A chain-link fence ran around the perimeter of the city to keep the infected inside. I shuddered and touched the rifle hanging on my shoulder.

quarantine prompt

Tuesday, 5 July 2011


Pink. Not the colour of flowers but of sunburnt blistered skin. The first colour they could remember for days of walking the grey smoke. Black road gave way to desert sand. A splash of dried black blood stained the sand beside the bloated corpse. The body twitched and gurgled. A shot rang out echoing along the valley. The head burst apart raining down chunks of diseased black and grey brain on the white sand. No words were spoken as the group circled round the headless remains. A few brave children threw stones at the headless corpse, silently mouthing ‘zombie’.

Tuesday, 15 February 2011

Winter Blues

Winter stood with her back against the black bark of a tree, body nestled in the tangle of black roots. The forest floor was covered in black leaves and piles of snow. The grey skies pelted down shards of ice. Sharp as glass. A line of crimson welled up across her cheek. Winter swore softly and grabbed a handful of brackish leaves to cover her cheek. In the distance dogs howled and Winter pulled her woollen cloak close fingers laced through the corded blue bag at her waist. Winter smiled grimly as she slipped a dagger from her blue boot.

Chimera drabble prompt: Winter Blues

Tuesday, 1 February 2011

three things

Three things, a quick dash round the supermarket. James crumpled up the list and shoved it in his coat. Milk, apples, coffee. James made his way down the aisles randomly filling his basket, ipod blaring, head nodding to the music reading the back of a cereal packet. James bumped into an empty trolley, ‘Sorry’ He mumbled. Trolleys were scattered about the store, shelves of food scattered across the floor. A tin of beans rolled past. An old woman shuffled round the corner, skin green, mouth covered in blood that dripped down her chin. ‘Hello?’ Jamie gulped. ‘coffee’s on aisle three?.’

book club prompt 'plague'