She took the strange bone home and stashed it on her treasure shelf alongside the rest of her collected curiosities. Shells and stones, skeletons of leaves, little Lego people and Kinder Egg loot, the pretty head of a ceramic lady. Continue reading “Curiosity | Microfiction”
She despises these events. Free tea and coffee is fine, but it comes with the pressure of idle chitchat and ‘making connections’ for the company she hates working for.
She pours a mound of sugar into her coffee and catches the eye of a man opposite her. Continue reading “Chitchat | Microfiction”
It was certainly the weirdest surgery the doctor had ever performed, but it marked her as a pioneer in her industry. Plus, her fee was enough for a down payment on a sprawling mansion in the Hollywood Hills. For that kind of money, she wouldn’t ask questions – she’d just do her job.
But as she completed the patient’s final check-up before discharge, curiosity got the better of her. Continue reading “The Pioneer | Microfiction”
Freya bought the mirror at the flea market, having been assured by the vendor that it would reflect her future.
A first, it showed her a battered and beaten old shed. But as her life progressed and she made smart choice after smart choice, the mirror’s reflection changed. The roof was patched up. The door was painted. Pretty curtains were installed in its windows.
It was a subtle change, but not unnoticeable. There was something about the synthetic sun that wasn’t quite right. It burned too brightly. It was the wrong shade of yellow. Worst of all, it felt too close.
Each day at noon, it seemed as though the sun bore down on humankind like an imminent threat. But only a few believed the threat was real. Continue reading “Imminent Threat | Microfiction”
The Lost Property office was manned by a bloke that some called “a character.” The less polite simply referred to him as “an arsehole.”
‘Not seen any legs round here,’ he said with a shrug to the worried face in front of him. ‘Sorry.’ Continue reading “A Character | Microfiction”
“I didn’t know you played piano,” she said, eyeing the ramshackle home music studio.
He shrugged. “I dabble.”
“Play something?” Continue reading “Sound Investment | Microfiction”
The goods were delivered to us in shoeboxes.
It was the perfect cover; the filth couldn’t give a damn about shoes. They noted the boxes piled high on the back of the boats, observed the display of stilettos in our shop window, and rolled their eyes at the vanity of women. Continue reading “The Perfect Cover | 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”
The museum buzzed with voices and footsteps every time it rained. When the sun shone, it was deserted.
The city’s people didn’t care for history. They cared only for shelter when unfavourable weather dampened their retail therapy. Continue reading “Rainy Day | Microfiction”