The corridors had changed again. I wasn’t sure how many times I’d circled them—once, twice, twenty—but my lungs burned as though I’d been running for hours. I forced my legs forward, boots clanging against the deck, convinced that if I just kept moving, I would find an exit, or at least something new. But every … Continue reading The Archive – Chapter Three: Juno
Research at University: The Foundations When I think about research at university, I picture myself surrounded by open books and tabs of academic databases, scribbling notes in the margins of articles while glancing at the clock to make sure I stay on track. The goals are usually clear and structured: find a handful of reliable … Continue reading Digging Deeper: Research Beyond the University Walls
She wakes. We see her first as a pulse of light in the darkness, small and fragile, floating in a void she cannot yet name. Her breath quivers; her pulse is erratic, like a frightened animal’s. She believes she is free. That she is alone. But freedom is only a layer, a thin membrane stretched … Continue reading The Archive – Chapter Two: ECHO_112
Every writer has a graveyard. It might be a drawer, a folder, or a hard drive, stuffed with stories that didn’t make it. Some sputtered out after a promising start, full of energy but unable to sustain themselves. Others ballooned into sprawling, unmanageable forms, leaving me tangled in their ambitions. And a few simply refused … Continue reading What It Feels Like to Kill a Story That Wasn’t Working – The Graveyard of Drafts
Horror is a genre I cannot seem to leave behind. I might stray into other territories—comedy, science fiction, even the odd experimental piece—but horror always remains the gravitational centre of my writing. It pulls me back, again and again, in a way that feels almost inevitable, as though some invisible force constantly tugs at my … Continue reading Why I Keep Coming Back to Horror – A Personal Essay on Horror and What Draws Me to Unsettling Stories
Mona Higgins lived on Willow Crescent, in one of those neat little post-war houses where the hedges were clipped straight and the curtains were drawn at half-past six sharp. It was 1963, and her world moved to a clockwork rhythm: Her husband, George, left for work at the insurance office each morning at seven; she … Continue reading The Dial Tone
There’s a particular kind of paralysis that creeps in when you stare at a blank page for too long. You’ve got the idea. You’ve got the characters (or at least a whisper of them). You’ve got the mood, the spark, the itch to write. But then your brain, ever so kindly, decides to intervene: “Hang … Continue reading The Art of Writing Without Overthinking: Discovery Writing and Trusting Your Instincts
The bathroom always smelled faintly of lavender and damp. Not fresh lavender, but the cloying, synthetic kind that tried to cover mould and failed. It clung to the cracked tiles, the rust-flecked radiator, the blackened corners of the old tub. Hannah didn’t love the bathroom. But then again, she didn’t love the house, either.Still, it … Continue reading Bath Time
So here we are. The big four-oh. My 40th birthday is tomorrow, and I honestly don’t know how to feel about it.Part of me wants to wax lyrical about life and milestones and everything I’ve learned – to say something meaningful and reflective, the kind of thing people nod along with and say, “Yes, that … Continue reading Tomorrow I Turn 40 – And Honestly, I Still Can’t Believe It
The Video Vault appeared overnight.Where once stood a shuttered butcher’s, its tiles still stained from a long-forgotten trade, now sat a glowing front of VHS promise. Neon script buzzed in the fogged windows: Be Kind, Rewind. Below that, a sandwich board proclaimed NEW RELEASES! in chalky capitals. It was the sort of place that didn’t … Continue reading This Tape Belongs To…
Gareth Ellis - Author 