Hang In There! | Flash Fiction

Illustration of a sloth hanging from a branch - "Hang In There!" flash fiction

Hang In There! says the poster, and just beneath this peppy instruction is a photograph of a sloth hanging languidly from a branch. Its little black eyes gaze out, curious, while a superior half-smile on its mouth shows its true colours. “Oh yeah, you hang in there,” that smug mouth seems to say. “I’ll even provide the noose.”

Gordon wants to punch that fucking sloth right between its beady eyes.

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Ludicrous | Short Story

Illustration of cliffs and sea - "Ludicrous" short story

Thunder rumbles ominously in the distance. Polly suppresses a yawn. She glares at the night sky which is blanketed in clouds heavy with storm.

Rain already, she thinks. Get it over with.

Almost as though they are lending an ear, the heavens open. Fat raindrops make their rapid descent down to Earth and Polly quickly pulls up her hood and directs her camera at the Stormy Princess.

For decades the Stormy Princess has guarded this short, barren stretch of Yorkshire coastline. From the day she first appeared in 1959 — crafted from clay by an anonymous artist — the sculpture has been the source of superstition and rumour. She’s bewitched, say the residents of nearby towns and villages. She’s made of magic. Every time a storm passes over her, she moves.

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It All Disappears | Short Story

Closed eyes illustration - "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”

Wanna Know How I Got My Wings? | Flash Fiction

Illustration of a chicken on a nest - "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.

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The Big Jump | Flash Fiction

Illustration of man jumping - "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”