“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”
“Look,” said Stef, as she held up a small bronze lamp. “It’s a genie lamp!”
Paul looked at it briefly and gave a non-committal “Mm.”
“Come on, show a little enthusiasm.”
“Stef, we’ve been clearing out your old man’s junk for 3 days straight, now. The novelty has worn off. All of it is shite, alright? Pure shite.” Continue reading “Lamp | Short Story”
Mr and Mrs Showers cling onto each other’s hands and look up at the ceiling. They’re in the living room, directly below the bedroom of their young daughter, waiting for midnight and hoping it won’t come.
It’s a yearly ritual, this waiting malarkey. It occurs on the evening of the 31st of March, and it’s an opportunity to reflect upon past mistakes. They watch the clock and curse themselves for ever being stupid enough to name their daughter April. Continue reading “April Showers”
“I’ve had a bad week,” says Wendy, as she swirls her car keys around and around her finger. “It’s because I was stressed. Work cut my hours on Monday.”
Gasps and tsks and murmurs go up from the group.
“I can’t believe it. I can’t afford to be working less. I think I’m going to have look for a new job altogether, and I’m not looking forward to that because I’m shit at interviews. Anyway, that was just the start of it. Continue reading “Confessions”
“Hurry up, it’s almost on,” he shouted from the sofa, remote control in hand.
“I can’t find it!” she called from the hallway. She’d already pulled everything out of her purse and was scrabbling through month-old receipts and year-old gum wrappers at the bottom of her handbag.
“If you’ve lost that ticket and it’s a winning one I’ll never forgive you.” Continue reading “The Lottery”
One year left.
One year left in my twenties.
One year left until I fall into Proper Adult territory and I have to start preparing myself for wrinkles and grey hairs. Continue reading “Treasure Hunt”
‘Twas the day after Christmas, and all through the town,
There were emotions aplenty, some up and some down.
Many nursed hangovers, while others nursed wounds,
A few mopped their tears, and more still hit the booze.
Continue reading “Boxing Day”
Siobhan lay naked in Rich’s arms on the rug before the fire, her throw strewn over the two of them. She listened to the steady thud of his heartbeat in his chest and felt completely at one with him and at peace with herself.
She didn’t know what it meant. She didn’t know if they were back on. They hadn’t said a single word to one another, other than “I love you,” whispered raggedly in the height of lust. But she felt that that was enough. They’d work things out, one way or another.
A heavy thud jolted her from her thoughts.
“What the fuck?!”
Siobhan pulled away from Rich in response to his panic and followed his gaze to the fireplace. Then she screamed. Continue reading “24. Bloody Murder”
The ring of blue light in the sky was mesmerising. Georgie couldn’t take her eyes of it, no matter how much her mother knocked on the kitchen window and told her to come inside.
She’d spotted it half an hour ago, when her parents allowed her 10 minutes to prance around in the snow in the back garden. She’d planned to build a miniature snowman and perhaps pelt a few snowballs at the fence, but as soon as she’d stepped out into the fresh, freezing night, something forced her to look up. And she’d been looking up at the blue ring ever since. Continue reading “22. An Opportunity”
“Are you doing your teeth, Alfie?” Sarah had to exert maximum control to ensure her shout up the stairs had a bright, encouraging tone, rather than descending into the growl that she felt like giving.
Alfie had been sent upstairs to brush his teeth 30 minutes ago. During that time, he had chased the cat around every bedroom, squeezed toothpaste over everything other than his toothbrush, made his sister cry, and crawled inside his mother’s duvet cover and buttoned himself in in an attempt to hide from her. Continue reading “21. Breaking Point”