The Dead End | Debut Novel

The Dead End: Would Your Life's Memories Be Enough To Build An Afterlife?

I guess you could say I went out with a bang. There was certainly a sickening thud as my body made contact with the car bonnet. But actually, other than those final few seconds before everything went black, the last day of my life was unbearably dull.

I ate a cheese and pickle sandwich for lunch. Cheese and bloody pickle, couldn’t be more boring. Even the car accident was a cliché; I was lost in thought when I stepped out into the road. Forgot to check for traffic. And those thoughts weren’t about anything interesting. I was wondering whether I should order ham and pineapple or pepperoni pizza for my dinner.

But the bit that happened directly after my death was significantly more interesting.

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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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Poohsticks | Microfiction

Children chasing butterflies illustration - "Poohsticks" microfiction

Stick after stick they flung into the water before tearing along the muddy riverbank in chase.

Each twiggy sacrifice hurried along the current to its destiny; a big leap over the edge of the rocky outcrop. The sticks plummeted into a deep, dark pool and disappeared beneath the surface. It wasn’t long until they rose again, buoyed by the amber, peaty water. Continue reading “Poohsticks | Microfiction”