Laughter is the best medicine, but when healthcare comes at a price it is only the rich who are lucky enough to try the tonic.
Jacques made a sound living from flogging laughter, but it was a miserable job. He spent his days trawling the streets, waiting on jokes and witticisms before pouncing upon those who heard them.
As soon as the laughter came tumbling from his victims’ mouths, he’d leap upon them and capture it while it was still fresh. Continue reading “Laughter is the Best Medicine | Microfiction”
“I’m the most vital ingredient in this dish.”
“Rubbish!” cried Tom. “I’m a beef tomato. Like, the king of tomatoes.”
“You’re just the fat tomato,” sneered Moz, “that’s all. Meanwhile, I’m buffalo mozzarella. Buffalo beats cow any day.” Continue reading “Food Poisoning | Microfiction”
The change in her attitude was abrupt, to say the least.
One minute she was typing manically at her keyboard, excited and determined to fulfil an end-of-day deadline that had never truly been achievable. The next, she was ready to leave it all behind. Continue reading “Worth | Microfiction”
Lisa winced and shuffled in her seat as her stomach churned and bubbled. She cursed herself for eating beans for lunch.
“You okay, there?” said the painter, having noted his muse’s discomfort.
“Fine, yes. Sorry,” Lisa said, blushing. Continue reading “Smile | Microfiction”
Lily had never felt less notable in her life. But that’s exactly what she was going for.
Her usual attire of black skinny jeans, metal band tee, leather jacket, and shiny, silver Chelsea boots was gone in exchange for tracksuit bottoms, an oversized hoodie, and plain, white trainers. Even her purple hair had been pulled back into a bun and hidden beneath a black beany hat. Continue reading “Undercover | Microfiction”
Summer Sundays were always meant for al fresco dinners. An opportunity for a busy family to share the week’s news over a bottle of wine and a table straining with food.
I didn’t see why it had to be different after the accident. Every week I prepared a spread fit for a king, only I was the sole diner. Continue reading “Summer Sundays”
There’s a little town on the east coast of England – known as Estonville – which is twinned with a little town on the west coast of England – known as Westonville.
The roads of each town are the same. The houses are the same. The locations of schools, shops, and businesses are the all same. Even the people in the two settlements are the same. Well… almost. Continue reading “Twinned With”
“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”
I swear, if he breathes again it’ll be the last breath he takes.
Oh, there it is. The long, squeaky inhale through the nose and the rattling huff through the mouth.
Does he realise how loud he’s being? Is there something wrong with him? Is it normal for human breath to make that kind of noise? Continue reading “Never Again”