Short Story and Flash Fiction Writer
Park, park, park. Leaves, leaves, leaves. Park, leaves, park, leaves. Damn, I wish I had more information.
The park’s huge. There are leaves everywhere. I’m never gonna find those damn bones.
I should’ve grilled him. Should’ve got some more to go on. Should’ve asked him outright, “Where’d you put the bones, Punk?” But I’d have probably just spooked him, I guess. At least he has no idea that I’m about to raid him. Continue reading “The Hunt | Microfiction”
The cretins have locked me in again. I can only assume it is down to the cold, white fluff which is falling from the sky. It may be chilly, but it’s awfully pretty to look at and rather fun to frolic in. I suppose it will have to suffice that I watch it through the window, since I have been unjustifiably incarcerated.
The worst thing about the locked door? Having to shit in sawdust, like a damn rodent. I don’t think the humans quite understand the importance of feeling grass beneath my paws when I relieve myself. Imagine if I took their strange, porcelain throne away from them; they’d feel degraded. Perhaps one day, if I ever manage to sprout opposable thumbs, I’ll do exactly that and present them with a plastic box instead. I think they’d soon realise that it pays to let a cat keep to his normal toileting habits. Continue reading “An Incarceration | Short Story”
Sourdough tells the story of Lois Clary, an overworked robotics software engineer whose sanity is saved by sourdough and spicy soup provided by a local sandwich shop. When the owners of the sandwich shop decide to leave the country, they offer Lois the starter of their delicious bread so that she can make her own. She soon embarks on a bizarre new career path, blending robotics with baking in a strange new food market, while attempting to understand why the microorganisms in her sourdough starter seem to have a mind of their own. Continue reading “Sourdough by Robin Sloan | Book Review”
Trev gnawed viciously at his stubby fingernails, which incited a curled lip of disgust from the detective.
“Don’t do that. Let’s have a chat, shall we?”
Trev wiped his moist fingertips on his tracksuit bottoms. “I didn’t do it.”
“But we have CCTV evidence which suggests you did.”
“Wasn’t me. There’s a bloke who looks a bit like me, y’know? You police are always getting me mixed up with him.” Continue reading “Wasn’t Me | Flash Fiction”
During the middle of an unprecedented snowstorm in 1964, Dr David Henry delivers his wife’s baby with the help of a nurse in his empty clinic. It turns out to be twins. The first baby is a perfect little boy. The second is a girl with Down’s Syndrome. Believing that he is doing the right thing for all involved, David hands the child off to the nurse and asks her to take it to an institution out of town. He tells his wife, Norah, that the baby girl died. The nurse, Caroline, can’t bear to leave the little girl in the cold, clinical institution for the rest of her life. Instead, she goes on the run, starts a new life and raises the child as her own. Continue reading “The Memory Keeper’s Daughter by Kim Edwards | Book Review”
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”
The house seemed to have crumbled from the foundations up. If there were bodies buried within the rubble, they weren’t going to be easy to find.
The detectives were totally perplexed. It was the only house for miles around, and there’d been no witnesses to give clues as to what had brought the structure tumbling down. Continue reading “Hungry | Flash Fiction”
“Winter’s setting in quick, isn’t it?” Mabel peered out of the window at the gloomy street. “I can’t believe it’s dark already.”
“I know. And it’s only 11.15.”
“You’re kidding! I was thinking it was closer to four in the afternoon. Didn’t I have lunch already?”
Aaron laughed. “Nope. Must be getting your days muddled.”
Mabel scratched her head. “Time does drag in this office. So how can it be dark at 11.15 in the morning?” Continue reading “End is Nigh | Flash Fiction”
“Hey, new guy,” says my manager. “You coming to the bar? We’ve got a bit of a thing for liquid lunches here.”
Inwardly I cringe. Trust me to join a company where getting steaming drunk at lunchtime on a Monday is accepted behaviour. Don’t get me wrong, I like a beer as much as the rest of them, but not on a Monday lunchtime. I just want to do my job, get paid, and hit the pub with my friends when the weekend comes around.
“Sure,” I say. Gotta fit in, right? Continue reading “Liquid Lunch | Short Story”
“Dude, stop whistling, you’ll get us busted.”
“You don’t like my whistling?”
“No. It sucks.”
“My mum says I whistle beautifully.”
“She’s lying. Here.” Sam glances quickly around them before handing Ryan a small brown envelope. Continue reading “Bloom | Flash Fiction”
