It All Disappears | Short Story

His heart is pounding. He’s lost in her gaze. His lips are a hair’s breadth away from hers.

And then it all disappears.

He’s wide awake, staring up at the white ceiling, cursing himself again. Why does it always have to end there, right before the kiss? Why can’t he keep himself asleep for just long enough to feel her soft, full lips against his mouth? Continue reading “It All Disappears | Short Story”

Behind the Cupboard Door | Microfiction

She had to stand on tiptoes — on top of a stack of books, on top of a dining chair — to reach the forbidden cupboard. What might lay inside, she wondered. Chocolate? Sweeties? Chocolate-covered sweeties?

She pulled open the door and yelped. Continue reading “Behind the Cupboard Door | Microfiction”

Wanna Know How I Got My Wings? | Flash Fiction

I’m taking a break from writing/posting for a couple of weeks because my brain’s being a real piece of shit at the moment. Plus, I’m going on my jolly holidays to Cornwall next week and I’ll be too busy soothing my soul with Cornish cream teas, catching up with family, and writing “Ellie Rulez” repeatedly in the sand on the beach.

In the meantime, here’s a really stupid story that I posted on Medium last week and forgot to link here. I thought it was funny when I wrote it… you be the judge.

Ta ta for now.


Well there I was, hanging out with my friends after school, all of us bored out of our minds, when some bright spark decided we should play Chicken.

You know what Chicken is? It’s this dumb game where you run out into a road in front of a car and try to get to the other side without getting hit. Stupid, right?

What’s stupider is that I didn’t know how to play. Never heard of the so-called ‘game’ before in my entire 16-year-long life. But I didn’t tell the guys that, did I?

“You go first,” they said, since I was the new kid in town.

And I was all like, “Yeah, sure, cool, awesome,” without actually clarifying the rules of the game. I just wanted to fit in with the idiots, okay? In hindsight I did a pretty good job.

Continue reading on Medium >

The Big Jump | Flash Fiction

I jump and my stomach – I swear to God – my stomach leaps up into my throat and tries to choke me to death.

I cough and hack and gasp for air as I tumble over and over, seeing green then blue then green then blue. Air rushes past me and batters my face, stinging my skin. If this hurts, what will the landing feel like? Face-first into concrete, in an ideal world. Will I feel anything at all or will it all be over before I know it? Continue reading “The Big Jump | Flash Fiction”

Leg It! | Microfiction

Teensy-weensy stories I wrote on social media this week.

Continue reading “Leg It! | Microfiction”

Protest | Microfiction

“Come down. Please.”

“No.”

“But it’s been days.”

“I’m protesting.”

“You can’t stay in the tree forever.”

“I can if I want.”

“I said sorry.”

“Your apology is futile.”

“How can I make it up to you?”

Continue reading on Medium >

In Bits | Microfiction

Sweat beaded on his forehead as he picked his way through the crisscross of lasers. The diamond was almost within his grasp.

His nose tickled. No. No, no, no. How could this happen to him at the very last moment?

He scrunched up his face, pushed his tongue up onto the roof of his mouth, closed his eyes and held his breath.

The tickle intensified. He couldn’t stop it. Continue reading “In Bits | Microfiction”

Quilting | Flash Fiction

Oh, she’s so fucking old. How is she still clinging on to life? How?

“Morning Mrs Tidpot,” I call as I lug her shopping through to the kitchen.

“Mm.”

She’s quilting as usual. Always bloody quilting. How she isn’t bored to death of it yet I don’t know.

“Working on that quilt again, are you?”

“Mm.”

I put the kettle on and unpack the shopping, wondering who I could get to shoot me if I ever ended up quilting every damn day just to while away the seconds until death.

Continue reading on Medium >

High as a Kite | Flash Fiction

Fiona sees her parents’ car pull into the driveway and she slaps her little sister across the face.

“Snap out of it, Penny. Now. Do you hear me? Now!”

Thirteen-year-old Penny doesn’t snap out of it. She continues to stare at the ceiling, her pupils enormous black holes sucking in reality and twisting it into who knows what. Continue reading “High as a Kite | Flash Fiction”