Company | Microfiction

The bird turned up at 7.35pm sharp, every single day since her grandmother had died. It perched on the window ledge, gazing through the glass at her with inquisitive eyes as she washed the dishes.

Perhaps it just wanted some company, she thought. She didn’t mind that; she could use some company herself. Her evenings had been quiet since she stopped getting her grandmother’s daily calls. Continue reading “Company | Microfiction”

That Sweet Spot | Flash Fiction

“Who’d feed us?” said the dog, head resting on her paws.

“Well I can fend for myself,” said the cat, as she stretched out a paw and extended her talons. “These claws weren’t solely meant for scratching the sofa. You, on the other hand, have no idea how to hunt. You’d probably perish. But your ineptitude is none of my concern.”

The dog rolled her eyes. “If you hate her so much, why don’t you just leave? Killing her seems so extreme.” Continue reading “That Sweet Spot | Flash Fiction”

What Does He Have? | Microfiction

She’s just… exquisite.

The way her hair wafts in the breeze and shimmers under the sun. The way she smiles and licks her lips when she catches her breath. The way she takes in the world with big, hazel eyes, as though every day is the most beautiful she’s ever seen.

Every single move she makes is extraordinary. And her tail! Continue reading “What Does He Have? | Microfiction”

Bank Holiday Misery | Short Story

11:16 AM

“There was no lamb left, love,” said Frank, as he dumped his shopping bags on the kitchen floor.

“What do you mean?” said Rita, a small flutter of panic running through her.

“No lamb joints,” Frank said with a shrug. “No pork, either, as I thought that would be second best. All they had was chicken, and all the big ones had already gone. Supermarket was jam-packed.”

“But you went early. How could they run out of lamb and pork when you went first thing? You did go first thing, didn’t you? You didn’t sneak off somewhere else first?” Continue reading “Bank Holiday Misery | Short Story”

Big-Eared B*stard

The detective gazed into the glazed eyes of the corpse on the floor and wondered what its last thoughts could have been as its blood spurted from its neck and flooded the floor. Probably, “Oh fuck,” or something to that effect, she thought.

She had three months left on the force, and she’d been craving a juicy case to get stuck into before she stepped into the quiet lane of retirement. This looked like it could be the one. Continue reading “Big-Eared B*stard”

The Voice

Bruno froze at the click of the bathroom door. He heard the floorboards creak, a splosh, then the squeak of skin on the bottom of the tub. He waited for the sound of moving water to subside, and then he let the silence hang for a couple of minutes.

Satisfied that his roommate was fully ensconced in her bubblebath, Bruno launched himself at the sofa, then clambered up onto the back of it. From there, he manoeuvred himself to perch on the windowsill. Continue reading “The Voice”

Today’s The Day

“Stop running around like a blue-arsed fly and sit down on the blanket!”

The child froze, then turned to his mother and pouted. “But I’m bored.”

“I’m bored of your whinging.”

“But I’m hungry.”

“So sit on the blanket and eat some berries.” His mother raised her brows to let the child know that there would be dire consequences if he disobeyed. Continue reading “Today’s The Day”

In From the Cold

It looks warm in there. The human has its arms bared to the air, so the temperature must be far better than it is out here. The dog looks toasty, too, despite it being bereft of half of its coat. Thank goodness for its impressive ability to grow hair. I couldn’t believe my luck when I saw the human brushing out its downy fur and simply discarding of it on the lawn. Continue reading “In From the Cold”

16. Escape

Greenford Farm had been eerily silent for 9 days. The atmosphere had been dying down since October, but it wasn’t until December that the population really began to dwindle. Feathers littered the grounds of the farm, the wind having picked them up from the fields and scattered them in all directions, but as snow fell on Christmas eve, they soon became blanketed in icy whiteness, erasing all signs of the birds to which they used to belong.

1049 was ravenous. He’d taken shelter beneath an upturned steel feeding trough 9 days ago, and had come to the end of the measly rations of grain which were hidden with him. The silence had bored deep into his mind for long enough that he wondered if he’d gone completely deaf. Continue reading “16. Escape”