I’m sorry I haven’t come to see you in so long. I haven’t dropped by to share any thoughts, or words, or stories. But things have been a little tough. I’m writing a book, a novel, something which has been a decade in the making. I think you’ll like it. I hope you do. After …
Author Archives: Ekaterina Tretiakova
Fiction: ‘Treasure’
Mercury waves rise into sharp peaks before crashing down with a roar. The wind screams like a banshee. His boat is flung one way, and then another, completely at the mercy of a foul-tempered sea. He hangs onto the side of the boat, his knuckles white. Every muscle strains against the violence. The salty spray …
Fiction: ‘Dispersion’
‘I had the strangest dream last night. The sky had turned to jade, while everything else appeared in shades of turquoise. The people. The streets. The buildings. They only existed in the wavelength of green. One woman with emerald eyes and moss green hair was passing near, but when I stood in her way, hoping …
Fiction: ‘Crocus’
Every time I see a crocus, I feel sad. So sweet and blue: it is no-one’s favourite bloom and never the crown jewel of a garden. Florists never include it in their arrangements. Few artists paint it. And rarely has there been a poem or even a limerick to honour this poor little flower. The …
Fiction: ‘The Bee’
He wakes up, not in the golden warmth of his hive like all the other bees, but someplace dim and dusty. The ground is hard beneath him, and the air is stale and sour. He rolls from his back onto his stomach and lifts himself onto his feet. They clink on the steel surface of …
Fiction: ‘The Piper’
Far away in the north was once a grand city famous for its splendour and beauty. The inner city of this wondrous place was filled with twinkling lights, no matter how deep into the night it was, while beautiful people in their finest clothes passed each other in ornate carriages. The scent of champagne lay …
Fiction: ‘The Monster of the Wasteland’
There are all kinds of monsters in this world, but none of them look like the ones from storybooks and ancient tales. They aren’t quite the stuff of nightmares. Instead, they smile and nod politely when you pass them in the street. They’ll make you a cup of tea if you call in at their …
Fiction: ‘The Jinn’
Deep in a desert not far from here there once rose a vast mountain. Snow always glittered from its peak, even under the blistering summer sun, and lush trees grew around the base even though it had been many years since this region last saw rain. But the most remarkable …
Fiction: ‘Better Days’
The middle of the day feels like the dead of the night, and I’m never so alone as when I’m with you. I don’t remember the exact moment of fracture, but we drifted apart like continental plates; imperceptible up close but forever changing the shape of things. Why can’t we say goodbye? Why can’t we …
Fiction: ‘Famous Red Dress’
It’s five in the morning and a grey light is starting to pierce the air. The frost melts beneath its touch. Trains begin to rattle down the line, their carriages empty, the platforms still and bare. You stand upon that same spot where you first saw her. No-one passes you at this hour. And even …
Writing on Tangents 