S. A. Crawford
Bio
Writer, reader, life-long student - being brave and finally taking the plunge by publishing some articles and fiction pieces.
Achievements (15)
Stories (219)
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Dead Still
A very late entry for L. C. Schafers Spooktacular Dollar challenge! Silence had been Ellen Campbells friend for as long as she could remember, and because most of the people she dealt with on a daily basis were dead she got plenty of it. Running a mortuary was no-ones idea of glamour, but someone had to do it; her mother had always said if there was something to be done it was better to get it over with than put it off... That, she told herself, was what she was doing as she undertook a stock check while studiously ignoring the body in bay four. She was not putting off dealing with bay four, she was making sure she had everything she needed to get the job done.
By S. A. Crawford4 months ago in Fiction
Caul. Runner-Up in Masks We Wear Challenge.
Note: a caul is a part of the amniotic membrane enclosing a fetus that may be found still covering a newborns head and/or face after birth. Happening in just 1 in 80,000 births (est) it rare and was believed to be good luck in certain parts of medieval Europe. However, in other times and places it has been a sign that a child is marked by destiny, spiritually powerful, or even blessed with foresight... an in some very specific incidents, it was thought a caul marked out someone for a journey to the hangman's noose.
By S. A. Crawford5 months ago in Poets
The Ritual of Bones. Winner in The Ritual of Winter Challenge. Top Story - October 2025.
I have a pile of bones in my freezer, just a small one right now but it will grow. Winter comes like a seizure in Scotland; first the mellow summer starts to chill, then the morning air starts to smell of wet rot, and all of a sudden some of the nights and dawns are shockingly cold. Biting cold. It passes over and heat seeps back in. Then it comes again; fits of cold... And when the grass crunches underfoot every morning for a week and the sun doesn't rise until I'm on the bus to work I know its time to collect bones.
By S. A. Crawford5 months ago in Humans
The Lives of Others. Top Story - September 2025.
Like millions of other people, I commute daily; an hour on public transport each way to the nearest large city. I've taken the same bus journey so many times I recognize the drivers and their schedules and I can sleep most of it without missing my stop. I can see the fucking road with my eyes closed and I swear I have developed a sixth sense for when and where a traffic jam will occur, what buses will be late, and when I'll struggle to get a seat (always when the University is in session, always - I swear some of the students think their book bags have a ticket too the way they seat hog)...
By S. A. Crawford6 months ago in Humans
