Assumptions | Flash Fiction

“The assumption was that we would meet at 7.30pm, having already purchased our sweet treats and stashed them on our persons, ready to buy our tickets and find the best seats in the cinema.”

“That was your assumption, actually.”

“Instead, you met me at 7.30pm not only without your sweet treats, but without any idea of what sweet treats you wanted.”

“This was a cinema trip, not a military operation.” Continue reading “Assumptions | Flash Fiction”

Made for Me | Flash Fiction

Liza drew back the changing room curtain and struck a sassy pose for her maid of honour.

“Liza… it’s perfect!”

“I know!” Liza squealed as she turned away from her friend and admired herself in the mirror. “It’s lacy but not too fussy. Form fitting but not too clingy. Vintage but not too stuffy. And it fits me like a glove; even the length is bang on. It’s like it was made for me.”

She was right; the dress was made for her. It was made for her to do something truly awful. Continue reading “Made for Me | Flash Fiction”

That Sweet Spot | Flash Fiction

“Who’d feed us?” said the dog, head resting on her paws.

“Well I can fend for myself,” said the cat, as she stretched out a paw and extended her talons. “These claws weren’t solely meant for scratching the sofa. You, on the other hand, have no idea how to hunt. You’d probably perish. But your ineptitude is none of my concern.”

The dog rolled her eyes. “If you hate her so much, why don’t you just leave? Killing her seems so extreme.” Continue reading “That Sweet Spot | Flash Fiction”

Soup | Microfiction

“The soup’s too thin!” the head chef squawked, over and over until the junior chef thought she could take it no more.

She’d done her best. She’d tried to reduce it. She’d tried adding cornflour. She’d tried dolloping in cream. And still the meat soup didn’t live up to the head chef’s standards. Continue reading “Soup | Microfiction”

Supercar | Flash Fiction

“She’s a beauty,” Reg said proudly as he traced the curves of his new car’s bonnet with his fingertips.

“Mm,” the courier grunted as he flicked through some paperwork. “You need a run-through of the vehicle before I leave it with you?”

Reg scoffed. “I think I can handle it, mate.” Continue reading “Supercar | Flash Fiction”

What Does He Have? | Microfiction

She’s just… exquisite.

The way her hair wafts in the breeze and shimmers under the sun. The way she smiles and licks her lips when she catches her breath. The way she takes in the world with big, hazel eyes, as though every day is the most beautiful she’s ever seen.

Every single move she makes is extraordinary. And her tail! Continue reading “What Does He Have? | Microfiction”

Laughter is the Best Medicine | Microfiction

Laughter is the best medicine, but when healthcare comes at a price it is only the rich who are lucky enough to try the tonic.

Jacques made a sound living from flogging laughter, but it was a miserable job. He spent his days trawling the streets, waiting on jokes and witticisms before pouncing upon those who heard them.

As soon as the laughter came tumbling from his victims’ mouths, he’d leap upon them and capture it while it was still fresh. Continue reading “Laughter is the Best Medicine | Microfiction”

Food Poisoning | Microfiction

“I’m the most vital ingredient in this dish.”

“Rubbish!” cried Tom. “I’m a beef tomato. Like, the king of tomatoes.”

“You’re just the fat tomato,” sneered Moz, “that’s all. Meanwhile, I’m buffalo mozzarella. Buffalo beats cow any day.” Continue reading “Food Poisoning | Microfiction”

Worth | Microfiction

The change in her attitude was abrupt, to say the least.

One minute she was typing manically at her keyboard, excited and determined to fulfil an end-of-day deadline that had never truly been achievable. The next, she was ready to leave it all behind. Continue reading “Worth | Microfiction”

Smile | Microfiction

Lisa winced and shuffled in her seat as her stomach churned and bubbled. She cursed herself for eating beans for lunch.

“You okay, there?” said the painter, having noted his muse’s discomfort.

“Fine, yes. Sorry,” Lisa said, blushing. Continue reading “Smile | Microfiction”