The bandage had been wrapped around Catherine’s hand for three weeks.
“Come on, love,” said Mum. “Take it off, eh? You don’t need it anymore.”
“Yes I do.”
“It must be all healed up by now.”
“Maybe. But there’ll be a scar.”
“Is that what you’re worried about? Because everybody has scars, love. Nobody will bat an eye.”
Continue reading on Medium >
‘He’s terribly cute.’
Cute aren’t I?
I’d make a lovely lodger. Neat. Tidy. Quiet, except for when the postman comes and you need an advance warning of him shoving danger through the letterbox. Continue reading “An Ode to Sausages | Short Story”
“I cannot tell you how sick I am of this whole leopard print trend.”
Lenny laughed. “But you’re wearing it, darling!”
“I know, I know. I wish I wasn’t.” Lolly sighed. “Aren’t you tired of seeing it everywhere? Everyone’s wearing it these days. It’s so overdone, and not even done well. Leopard has become the trademark for trashy.” Continue reading “Fashion, Darling | 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”
“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”