“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”
I published a merry bloody book!
And now that we’ve got Halloween and Bonfire Night out of the way, I’m finally able to flog it. It’s Christmas-themed, y’see. Yes, sensible old me thought it would be a cracking idea to make my first foray into the self-publishing world with a seasonal book that folks will only ever want to buy for around 6 weeks of the year. I mean… you live and learn, right?
Merry Bloody Christmas is a multi-genre short story collection which I originally wrote and posted on this blog last year. I was reasonably chuffed with the stories then, but I knew they weren’t as polished as they could be. Not only that, but they soon got buried as I continued to post new stories and book reviews. So, I pulled them from the site, dusted them off, whipped them into shape, and published them. Continue reading “I Published a Book!”
8 p.m. is creeping near and I’m restless. I don’t know what to do with myself. I want to pace the room and at the same time lounge on my sofa and focus really hard on not moving a muscle.
I put the telly on and flick through the channels. Boring. Boring. Depressing. Too happy. Naff. Repeat. Repeat. Another repeat. It’s all crap. Hundreds of channels and nothing to watch. Continue reading “Restless | Flash Fiction”
“Get your glad rags on. It’s time to rock and roll!”
His eyes lit up when she told him. A good old-fashioned rock and roll night down the karaoke bar – it couldn’t be more up his street. Continue reading “But It’s Only Rock and Roll | Microfiction”
“Trick or treat!”
Mr Swinton eyes up the pair of children – dressed up in old white sheets and skeleton face masks – and crosses his arms. “I choose trick.”
The kids glance at one another, rolling their eyes behind their masks.
“You kids all expect something for nothing, don’t you? Well, impress me with a trick and maybe you can earn some sweeties.” Continue reading “Trick | Microfiction”
“Ugh, my hair doesn’t look right. I want it to be bigger, y’know? Messier. It’s all flat and thin and tidy.”
“It looks fine, stop whinging.”
“And my clothes are all wrong. They’re not all ripped and raggedy like yours. And the hollows under my eyes aren’t dark enough. And you can barely see the bullet wound in my chest. This sucks.” Continue reading “Prepare for Spooks | Microfiction”
Hairbrush, makeup, phone charger, laptop and… that’s about it.
I never understand why people think moving house is so hard. Just chuck your stuff in a bag and get a shift on. Easy-peasy. Continue reading “Packing Up | Microfiction”
It was only when I was stark bollock naked with my wrists tethered to a giant hook that I began to have doubts.
Not that there was any going back. There wasn’t time. Someone gave the go-ahead and I was raised into the air, feet flailing wildly, arms aching, fear setting in. I swayed side to side and back and forth as the crane slid me to the left and dangled me over the top of the vat of liquid skin. Continue reading “Dunk | Flash Fiction”
‘One hundred words to go, that’s all, bobblehead! One hundred little words to write until I meet my target and I can rest easy. And it’s only 4 a.m.! I’ve done well, haven’t I?’
The writer’s bobblehead mascot nods frantically in agreement as she taps out a manic rhythm on the desk with her fingers. Continue reading “Missed Targets | Flash Fiction”