Fork It, Fork It All | Microfiction

Wee stories from my social media this week.


Continue reading “Fork It, Fork It All | Microfiction”

A Snapshot of Destiny | Flash Fiction

The fortune teller has been glaring at Polly for 10 minutes, and Polly hasn’t dared to look away. There’s something in the woman’s eyes that makes it impossible. Something almost threatening that tells her not to break the silence.

And yet, despite the hostile atmosphere, Polly’s feeling a little bored. She’s also more than a little peeved that she’s spent £45 just to be stared down by a woman with cold, hard eyes. She came here to be told of her future. She expected a crystal ball at the very least.

The fortune teller blinks, shakes her head, and finally looks away. “Gotcha,” she says. “Here. Take this.” She pulls a cardboard tube out from beneath the table and hands it over. “There’s a picture in here which depicts your future. Don’t peek until you get home. And don’t get too upset… we can’t all have the perfect life.”

Polly nods as she takes the package. “Thanks,” she says.

The fortune teller grunts. “My commiserations.”

Continue reading on Medium >

The Ultimate Anti-Aging Secret | Microfiction

“You’re never 60!”

“I am.”

Her colleagues stare at her with pure jealousy. She doesn’t look a day over 45.

“What’s your secret?”

“Ah… that would be telling,” she says smugly. Continue reading “The Ultimate Anti-Aging Secret | Microfiction”

Teeny Little Creatures on a Grain of Sand | Microfiction

A roundup of the miniature stories I wrote on Twitter and Instagram this week.

Don’t Trust the Toilets | Microfiction

The toilet stall read “Vacant” and yet the damn thing wouldn’t open. She hammered on the door desperately, wincing as her full bladder threatened to revolt if it wasn’t relieved soon.

“Anyone in there?” she called.

No reply. Continue reading “Don’t Trust the Toilets | Microfiction”

The Mug | Flash Fiction

The mug sits unwashed on the kitchen table, a layer of white fuzz growing on the surface of the dregs of tea inside it. A smudge of lipstick is on the rim, and there’s a fingerprint made in chocolate on the handle.

The rest of the kitchen is pristine. Every single other mug, cup, glass, plate and bowl is dutifully washed, dried and put away immediately after use. But the mouldy mug remains on the table, as it has for three weeks now.

Continue reading on Medium >

Singing for Satan | Microfiction

The pentagram was laid out on the floor, the candles were lit, and the sacrificial frog was ribbiting his last in his cage.

All that was left to do was sing.

She took a deep breath and began to croon, eyes closed in concentration.

The devil appeared in a cloud of red smoke. Continue reading “Singing for Satan | Microfiction”

Nice Pair | Microfiction

“Nice pair,” said the checkout boy.

The customer gasped. “How dare you? That’s completely inappropriate. I came here to shop; I don’t expect to be drooled over by an employee who is at least half my age. Disgusting. I want to speak to your manager immediately. What a rude young man.”

The checkout boy pointed to the produce in her basket. “I meant your fruit. The pear? Looks good. They’ve just come into season, right?”

CONTINUE READING ON MEDIUM >

When the Shoe is on the Other Hoof | Microfiction

The horses neigh and whinny furiously, wielding their betting slips between their teeth as they stare at the television screen.

“Go on, you can do it!”

“That’s it, you beauty! Faster. Go faster!”

“Kick. Kick, dammit. Buck like your life depends on it!” Continue reading “When the Shoe is on the Other Hoof | Microfiction”

Blame the Parents | Microfiction

It was with sheer desperation that Ally called the Life Coach.

“I can’t make friends,” she blurted down the phone as soon as her call was answered.

“You can’t make friends?”

“No matter how hard I try, no matter how many times I strike up conversation, no matter how kind or funny or interesting I try to be, I simply can’t make friends. People can’t get away from me quick enough.”

CONTINUE READING ON MEDIUM >