Jennifer Pickering

Category: Fiction

  • Using AI for good – how AI can enhance your writing…

    Since AI has taken over the creative world, it has come with many criticisms and, as AI continues to improve it becomes harder and harder to tell the different between AI made and humanmade. So where within this changing climate does AI fit within creative writing? For many, it simply doesn’t. They want all writing…

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  • The Last Flower

    Some called it a weed, As it crept through the cracks, Of a land over filled, With pollution and greed. Its beauty lost, in the greyed-out world that surrounded it. Fumes attempted to choke its very existence, Dirtying it and blocking it from light. But it did not falter. It grew on. In a world…

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  • Fire Fire

    Perched around a bench; aimlessly filling our time. A plane landing in the field we share, with the same monotony as the expected clack of the letter box, it revs and turns. Swooping like an injured eagle, its magnificence tarnished by its disfunction. It attempts once more. As I watch, encased in a car in…

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  • The day the birds were gone…

    There were few who remained. Those of us deemed unworthy of chance. The outcast, forgotten wanderers on Earth. I was the youngest, only 6 when they shut the doors on me and locked themselves inside. I still remember seeing my mother on the other side of the door mouthing “Trust no one, I love you”…

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  • After they left us

    [Writing Prompt: We know what’s out there, what happens next?] Growing up I had always been afraid of what was out there, like the darkness of the night sky might swallow us up and we’d disappear before we knew what had happened. I think I always knew they were there so when they came I…

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  • The Day the Teacher Went Missing

    Little Jeremy Parker was always late to school and so, when the bell went and Jeremy’s space was empty in line, no one thought anything of it. 3A did, however, notice the missing space at the front of their line. “Where is Miss Arnold?” Suzie turned to Amy, who currently had a finger hidden up…

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  • Shadow Watchers

    As I grew up my shadow was my best friend. We would play together until we both tired, and we’d curl up together until it was time to play once more. I was eight when I realised my shadow was nothing more than that but I still trusted it and cared for it. I even…

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  • Creating Nonwords or Wordwords

    Every word is a word and every nonword is a word not yet needed. In fact, just yestermorning, whilst the weather was sunnyish, I jipped to the shoppermarket and jabbled and jibbled as I ziggled and zaggled. Furtheryet, I could not do these things because jabbling is as undoable as zaggling is. Do you understand?…

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  • The Drowning Diaries

    24th February 1997 Upon leaving her room, the door cracked letting light settle on the heaped clothes in the corner, I clutched my sides and found myself huddled under my duvet, my fingers digging into my ribs as I held onto what little solace I could grasp. Others were terrified of monsters under their beds,…

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