Colloquial / Conversational Stories

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4 Stories

Tyler, the arts centre coordinator, attempts to revive a stubborn generator amidst the icy chaos of the Borealis Hub, struggling to keep a bizarre local art exhibition from freezing solid in a remote Northwestern Ontario town.

The Great White Blank and Frozen Pipes

By Eva Suluk

The Borealis Hub was a frigid tomb, the silence broken only by the wheeze of the wind against ill-fitting windowpanes and the desperate, metallic coughs of a dying generator. Snow piled against the grimy exterior, sealing us in a pocket of profound, icy inconvenience. Every breath misted, every surface radiated a deep, unyielding cold that promised to turn any exposed limb into a brittle, useless thing. It was a perfect setting for an art exhibition, if your chosen medium was frostbite.

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A quiet, evocative photograph of a man and a woman in their mid-thirties on a park bench in late autumn. The woman, with her dark hair and spectacles, is caught in the act of closing her worn sketchbook, her face reflecting a deep, perhaps cynical, sadness. The man beside her, clad in a heavy coat and scarf, watches her with an intense, troubled gaze. The scene is bathed in the soft, muted light of a grey autumn day, with bare tree branches forming a stark backdrop. Leaves are scattered across the damp ground, adding to the melancholic atmosphere.

Unfurling Bark

By Eva Suluk

Late autumn had stripped the park down to its skeletal truth. The air carried the damp, earthy scent of decaying leaves and the distant, metallic tang of city traffic. Bare branches scraped a grey sky, and a few stubborn sparrows hopped across the damp asphalt path, pecking at forgotten crumbs. A sense of quiet resignation hung heavy, broken only by the crunch of solitary footsteps or the rustle of a forgotten plastic bag caught in a thorny bush.

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Inside a Winnipeg convenience store, three teenagers confront an unsettling phenomenon. A boy with rain-soaked hair looks utterly terrified, having just knocked over a display, while a girl and an older boy gaze with alarm at a small plastic basketball. The ball emits an unnatural, shimmering green and purple glow, reflecting the harsh fluorescent lights of the store, suggesting a profound and inexplicable shift in their ordinary reality.

A Stain on the Hardcourt

By Jamie Bell

A late spring rain lashed against the large, smudged windows of The Centre Stop, each gust of wind carrying the damp, cold scent of thawing earth and city grit. Inside, the fluorescent lights buzzed a low, sickly hum, casting long, wavering shadows between the snack aisles. Jessie, barely sixteen, meticulously wiped down the counter, his movements stiff and precise, each swipe of the cloth a deliberate, almost ceremonial act against the grime that seemed to seep from the very city outside. The air, thick with the smell of stale coffee and microwave popcorn, clung to the quiet tension of the evening.

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A chilling photograph captures the horrifying moment a contemporary art gallery dissolves. Walls ripple, paint peels in impossible spirals, and a central obsidian sculpture pulses with an unnatural, green light. The gallery's exterior glass has vanished, replaced by a churning black vortex from which something formless begins to emerge, signalling a profound cosmic intrusion.

The Shape of the Exhibit

By Jamie F. Bell

The air in Gallery Three felt too thin, tasting of ozone and wet plaster. Outside, a late January blizzard howled, but within, a different kind of storm raged around what was once 'Iteration 7'. Light, sharp and wrong, pulsed from the centre, carving impossible shadows.

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