“8-day walk weeks. Living kibble portions for all. Nationalisation of every squirrel-infested woodland in the UK.
“Free obedience classes for all ages – pups to seniors. Hundreds of thousands of new, affordable kennels.
Continue reading “Vote Dog | Microfiction”
Earl wipes sweat from his brow. Pearl gnaws on her fingernails. Their entire relationship depends on the outcome of this single moment – a polygraph test.
The examiner shakes his head. “The system says it was a lie.”
Earl explodes. “I knew it! How could you do that to me? And how could you lie to me about doing that to me?”
Continue reading “Liar | Microfiction”Something really cool happened. Janise Michel created an animation for one of my short stories, I Remember, for her digital drawing class at university. It’s amazing and you should watch it immediately! That is all.
Dear diary,
The search for life on Mars is finally over! We did it! We found it! Can you believe it?
All that time, all that money, all that high-tech equipment has finally paid off. And it’s such a big deal for me on a personal level. Finally, I know the truth… Continue reading “There Is Life On Mars | Microfiction”
One pair of trousers, that’s all June required. She repeated it over and over in her mind as she hurried down the high street: “One pair of trousers, one pair of trousers, one pair of trousers”. The mantra fell in time with her footsteps – “one pair” with the left foot, “of trousers” with the right. It looped so quickly, so incessantly, that it became white noise and nonsense and she disremembered altogether why she’d ever walked into town. Trousers? Forget about it. Not with so many other beautiful garments on display to entice and torment her.
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The front door slams, the house shivers and its inhabitants freeze.
“They’re back,” says Daughter, and her face quickly crumples as tears well.
“Don’t you dare cry,” hisses Mother. “They’ll hear us.”
The family falls silent and listens. A series of thuds and rattles comes from the floor below. Cupboard doors are opened and closed, opened and closed, over and over. Then there’s a short yell, a moment of quiet, and the soft wail of a miserable child.
Daughter whimpers. Mother glares at her.
I only open my curtains when the sun’s gone down. It’s so I don’t have to see the people in the garden. They freak me out with their wide, dead-eyed stares. Continue reading “My Evening Routine | Microfiction”
Round and round goes the hamster in his wheel, sending up giggles from the human faces which peer through the bars of his cage.
“Silly Hammy.”
“He just keeps going, doesn’t he?”
“Why does he run for so long, Mummy?”
“I suppose he’s just having sooo much fun!”
The hamster lets out an indignant squeak. Fun? Ha! As if, he thinks. His heart hums and his lungs burn with exertion. But look… it might just all be worth it… Continue reading “Silly Hammy | Microfiction”
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.
