Murmurs is a fortnightly periodical of short fictions - mainly drawn from the endless font of improvised writing exercises; using triggers, time limits and randomisers to generate stories. These selected pieces are those of the polished offspring that seemed to gravitate towards a certain murmurous nature, which you may discern for yourself.
For every fortnight murmurs shall occur; pangs, agonies and ordeals.
Why have they done this? They fled to the country, the odor of horror emanating from their clothes, holing up in the derelict barn on the edge of the moor. Those that dared follow the chaotic threads of their former lives were led into peril; confronted by the traces of tragedies best left forgotten. In the wilderness they made friends with nocturnal creatures, made beds from the nettles, crushed berries and beetle shell to make ink. Fever entered the burrow, dreams rolled out like grasping tendrils.
Now every fortnight murmurs arise from the wretched limestone walls; pangs, agonies and ordeals. Listen then turn away, heading back through the mist across the serene pastures towards the village.