Park, park, park. Leaves, leaves, leaves. Park, leaves, park, leaves. Damn, I wish I had more information.
The park’s huge. There are leaves everywhere. I’m never gonna find those damn bones.
I should’ve grilled him. Should’ve got some more to go on. Should’ve asked him outright, “Where’d you put the bones, Punk?” But I’d have probably just spooked him, I guess. At least he has no idea that I’m about to raid him. Continue reading “The Hunt | Microfiction”
The cretins have locked me in again. I can only assume it is down to the cold, white fluff which is falling from the sky. It may be chilly, but it’s awfully pretty to look at and rather fun to frolic in. I suppose it will have to suffice that I watch it through the window, since I have been unjustifiably incarcerated.
The worst thing about the locked door? Having to shit in sawdust, like a damn rodent. I don’t think the humans quite understand the importance of feeling grass beneath my paws when I relieve myself. Imagine if I took their strange, porcelain throne away from them; they’d feel degraded. Perhaps one day, if I ever manage to sprout opposable thumbs, I’ll do exactly that and present them with a plastic box instead. I think they’d soon realise that it pays to let a cat keep to his normal toileting habits. Continue reading “An Incarceration | Short Story”
The house seemed to have crumbled from the foundations up. If there were bodies buried within the rubble, they weren’t going to be easy to find.
The detectives were totally perplexed. It was the only house for miles around, and there’d been no witnesses to give clues as to what had brought the structure tumbling down. Continue reading “Hungry | Flash Fiction”
They were bones like no others. Every single one was intricately carved with an array of pretty patterns. A mound over here had geometric designs. A mound over there had elaborate flowers and delicate leaves. More still featured tiny human figures bearing guns.
And then there was the jewellery. Bangles. Necklaces. Pendants. Rings. All of it gleamed with an off-white lustre, polished to perfection. Continue reading “Better Run | Microfiction”
The Prime Minister rubs at tired eyes and checks her watch. “Right. Give me an update on Kitten Café.”
The CEO of Kitten Café smiles and nods. “All is going well, Prime Minister. This month we’ve adopted out 244 cats within our London branches alone. I’ve yet to gt figures confirmed from other regions but -”
“I couldn’t care less about the cats,” the Prime Minister snaps. “Tell me how it’s really going.” Continue reading “Kitten Café | Flash Fiction”
Mama Wolf watches her pups as they roll around in the grass, nipping at one another’s ears and paws in giddy play. All but the runt, at least, who sits quietly away from his siblings.
“See?” whispers Mama Wolf. “He always separates himself. Wants to be closer to me. He’s too weak to keep up with the rest.” Continue reading “The Runt | Microfiction”
The view up here is just spectacular. I can see for miles. Keep an eye on my kingdom. Look out for trespassers and make a note of their appearance so that I can give them a good slap later. It’s perfect. Continue reading “Adrenaline Junkie | Microfiction”
“Go on then, Jim. Go and play.”
Jim glares at Flossie.
“Don’t look at me like that. Go on! Go run off some of that excess podge. And make some friends while you’re at it.”
Jim wanders off towards a group of potential friends nearby and loiters at the edges, waiting for someone to invite him into their fold.
Flossie approaches her own pack.
“He’s not very sociable, your Jim, is he?” says a fluffy Pomeranian. Continue reading “Making Friends | Microfiction”
They tell me I’m a penguin just like them. But I know I’m different.
For a start, I hate the cold. And I despise fish, which is about the only sustenance one can get around these parts. I’m a useless swimmer, too, which isn’t exactly ideal when, like I say, it’s fish, fish, fish on the menu. Continue reading “Mistaken Identity | Flash Fiction”
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”