Stories in Short #11 (Daily Prompt: Gone)

“Close your eyes, son.” The young man closed his eyes. “Take a deep breath.” The young man did. “You are stood on the walls of our city, our home. Beneath your feet is the bulwark of our people, stone built higher and higher, mortar mixed with the blood and tears of our woman, our children. Our…

Stories in Short #10 – Be Calm, Glassy Eyes

We haven’t sat on the sofa since you left. It was yours. We can’t touch it. For breakfast we all eat Weetabix with box-milk. No one has been to the shop. No one has left the house. There are tears at the bottom of the stairs each morning. We are determined to succeed for you.…

Story in short #9 (Whispered Words)

She was sat on the bonnet of my car when I got home. I walked past her. “Hey,” she said, as I reached the door, and the key stopped in the lock. I stared into the knocker, where I could see my reflection, bulbous and golden. “Hey,” she said again, less assertively. I turned to look…

Stories in Short #3

I am an injectionist. I work in a small clinic in an industrial estate down a country lane that doesn’t have a footpath. My daughter runs the desk and chit chats with the children I make scream and cry. Except, now my daughter is dead, and the children and I cry together. I am at…

On Writing: Planning Isn’t Everything

I’ve been asked literally a couple of questions about planning in the past. How do you plan? What do you plan? When do you plan? Each story has a start, middle and an end. Whilst you are writing your story these three elements will become so confused and muddled and interlocking that as you finish,…

Stories in Short #2

A rat runs off with the bit of sausage I have just ripped off with my teeth and thrown on the ground next to the electrical generator, which is humming, and grumbling disagreeably with my feeding of the rats. He said he’d meet me here, but there six other people on the platform, and none…

Who Killed Mrs. Crew (5)

I brush my teeth and think about the United Kingdom Independence Party. Mrs. Crew most definitely voted for that lot. She deserved what was coming to her. Her skin was very orange, between her folds gathered white pith. The sort of skin flakes that taste sour and accumulate on skirting boards. How? How does the…

Stories In Short #1

Reginald. That’s my name. I’m a whale. A big old whale. Oooooooooooooooooorrrwh. Just yesterday I saw two dolphins, eighty tuna fish and sixty jellyfish get scooped up in a man-net. Men eat dolphins because they think that they taste like kindness. Men eat dolphins because they think dolphins are like them. Tuna fish are not…