The groom pours stale coffee into a cup, leaving a half an inch of the black liquid in the bottom of the percolator. He brings the cup to his dry lips and takes a long swig to relieve the cotton wool sensation that plagues his tongue.
He needs distraction. He retrieves his phone from his trouser pocket and taps at the screen to access his documents. He skims over the latest draft of an article he’s been battling with for weeks. It’s good. It’s almost perfect. He just can’t seem to find the right words to conclude it.
And he probably won’t be able to find them now as the nerves swirl in his stomach. He takes another sip of coffee and reaches into the inside pocket of his suit, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter.
She’ll turn up her nose when she catches the whiff of stale fag on his breath. He told her he’d quit. She doesn’t know that he never managed to kick that first and only smoke of the day.
When the nicotine has delivered a surge of faux confidence, he tosses the cigarette — only two-thirds smoked — onto the ground and grinds it beneath his shoe. He can probably go through with it, he thinks. It won’t kill him. He’s managed three years already; a lifetime won’t be all that bad…
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‘I know he’s right for the job. I know he has all the experience. I know he’ll make this department the best it’s ever been. The trouble is, he knows it, too. He’s got an ego on him. If we give him this promotion, his big head’ll only get even more obnoxious.’ Continue reading “Ego | Flash Fiction”
Dear Lost Forks,
I’d like to begin by thanking you for your vital, if short-lived, service. Over the past few months, you have done important work in aid of my taste buds and my stomach. You helped me to shovel pasta into my mouth at a rate that is almost superhuman. You allowed me to mash avocado onto toast so beautifully that my Instagram followers were driven wild. You even helped me to tackle the ring pulls on my Diet Cokes when I was afraid of breaking a nail, a task that is far beyond your intended role.
I know that I haven’t always been kind. Many a time I woke you from your slumber in the cutlery drawer, only for you to lay idle beside my plate as I threw my manners out the window and ate my food with my hands. You didn’t pass judgement on this lewd behaviour of mine, even when I ate so viciously that you were splattered with sauce and crumbs like mere placemats. Following this, and to my shame, I would simply mark you as ‘unused’ and replace you, unwashed, in the cutlery drawer.
Without a doubt, it is antics of this nature which have forced you to leave without saying goodbye…
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Yeah, I’m writing on Medium! I’m hoping to post one new post -either fiction or silly non-fiction such as this – each week, so be sure to Follow me if you’re a Medium member. I’m looking forward to connecting with more people over there, too, so let me know if you’re a Medium writer.
Bang, bang, fucking bang, every single day since they moved in.
It’s not always loud. I mean, sometimes it is; sometimes it’s so loud it makes me jump out of my skin. But a lot of the time, it’s a dull thud, thud, thud, or a swift rat-a-tat-tat. It’s almost like somebody’s knocking on the wall that divides our properties, trying to get my attention. But that’s probably my mind playing tricks on me. Continue reading “Neighbours | Flash Fiction”
‘What are you doing, Grandad?’
‘I see that. Why?’
‘Goin’ to China.’ Continue reading “Diggin’ | Microfiction”
He couldn’t wrap his head around it. It was just a dumb tradition he’d picked up from his parents. It was harmless, really, as long as nobody took it to the extreme.
But she’d come down on him like a tonne of bricks and somehow, he’d ended up in the hospital. Continue reading “First of the Month | Microfiction”
She refused to be broken by it. Instead, she’d turn it into a positive.
She’d been thinking for a little while that it was time for a new adventure, time to broaden her mind and see what else there was on offer.
She wouldn’t be defeated. She’d rise to the challenge. She’d take the bad and turn it into good. This was an opportunity. Continue reading “Never Broken | Microfiction”
I’m totally gonna nail this. I’ve got a photographic memory, and everyone knows that exams are piss easy with a photographic memory.
I barely even had to revise – it all went straight in when I was in class. I only had to flip through my notes once. For luck, I suppose. Just to be on the safe side. Continue reading “Exam | Microfiction”
There was a new girl in the office and everyone felt a bit weird about it.
The equilibrium of the workplace was askew as everyone tried to figure out what she was like and how she’d fit in. It wasn’t that they didn’t like her, but more that they didn’t know her; it simply wasn’t clear if she was going to be likeable.
The staff room was unusually quiet for a Friday lunchtime; the only noise that filled the air was the icky sound of chewing and chomping, slurping and munching. Everyone wanted to chat, like usual, but they didn’t know what to say. Continue reading “Weekend Plans | 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”