Wanna Know How I Got My Wings? | Flash Fiction

I’m taking a break from writing/posting for a couple of weeks because my brain’s being a real piece of shit at the moment. Plus, I’m going on my jolly holidays to Cornwall next week and I’ll be too busy soothing my soul with Cornish cream teas, catching up with family, and writing “Ellie Rulez” repeatedly in the sand on the beach.

In the meantime, here’s a really stupid story that I posted on Medium last week and forgot to link here. I thought it was funny when I wrote it… you be the judge.

Ta ta for now.


Well there I was, hanging out with my friends after school, all of us bored out of our minds, when some bright spark decided we should play Chicken.

You know what Chicken is? It’s this dumb game where you run out into a road in front of a car and try to get to the other side without getting hit. Stupid, right?

What’s stupider is that I didn’t know how to play. Never heard of the so-called ‘game’ before in my entire 16-year-long life. But I didn’t tell the guys that, did I?

“You go first,” they said, since I was the new kid in town.

And I was all like, “Yeah, sure, cool, awesome,” without actually clarifying the rules of the game. I just wanted to fit in with the idiots, okay? In hindsight I did a pretty good job.

Continue reading on Medium >

Leg It! | Microfiction

Teensy-weensy stories I wrote on social media this week.

Continue reading “Leg It! | Microfiction”

Protest | Microfiction

“Come down. Please.”

“No.”

“But it’s been days.”

“I’m protesting.”

“You can’t stay in the tree forever.”

“I can if I want.”

“I said sorry.”

“Your apology is futile.”

“How can I make it up to you?”

Continue reading on Medium >

Quilting | Flash Fiction

Oh, she’s so fucking old. How is she still clinging on to life? How?

“Morning Mrs Tidpot,” I call as I lug her shopping through to the kitchen.

“Mm.”

She’s quilting as usual. Always bloody quilting. How she isn’t bored to death of it yet I don’t know.

“Working on that quilt again, are you?”

“Mm.”

I put the kettle on and unpack the shopping, wondering who I could get to shoot me if I ever ended up quilting every damn day just to while away the seconds until death.

Continue reading on Medium >

High as a Kite | Flash Fiction

Fiona sees her parents’ car pull into the driveway and she slaps her little sister across the face.

“Snap out of it, Penny. Now. Do you hear me? Now!”

Thirteen-year-old Penny doesn’t snap out of it. She continues to stare at the ceiling, her pupils enormous black holes sucking in reality and twisting it into who knows what. Continue reading “High as a Kite | Flash Fiction”

I Saw It on National Geographic | Microfiction

Silly stories from my social media pages this week…

 

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Continue reading “I Saw It on National Geographic | Microfiction”

Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett | Book Review

The end of the world is nigh, but it is isn’t coming along as smoothly as Good and Evil would have liked. The Antichrist has gone missing, for a start. But they’d have known that if they’d have managed to grab a copy of the Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, which is the only reliable guide to the future written by a witch in 1655, just before she exploded. As Judgement Day draws near, a vast cast of weird and wonderful characters try to figure out their role in the end of the world – if it ever happens, that is. Continue reading “Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett | Book Review”

Kisses | Flash Fiction

Wanda’s mother tucked her up in bed and blew her a goodnight kiss from the doorway.

Eleven-year-old Wanda deemed herself far too grown-up for kisses. She grabbed the silly thing out of the air, pretended to press it against her lips, and waited for her mother to close the bedroom door and head downstairs.

Quiet as a mouse, Wanda reached under her bed, retrieved a glass jar, and stashed her mother’s kiss away. At last — a full jar! She’d sell it to the highest bidder the very next day during her walk to school.

Continue reading on Medium >

Whoopsie-Daisy | Flash Fiction

His eyes are stinging and prickly by the time he pulls up in front of his house at 2 A.M. An eight-hour drive, preceded by a ten-hour flight, makes for a mightily weary man. He thinks of his bed, soft and warm and utterly glorious.

He looks at his home. Every single light is turned off. Even the porch light.

“Damn it,” he mutters. “What did I tell her? Literally the last thing I said to her. ‘Leave the porch light on.’ How hard is that?” Continue reading “Whoopsie-Daisy | Flash Fiction”

A Passionate and Putrid Kiss | Microfiction

This week’s silly stories from social media.