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.
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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,” 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?”
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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”
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.”
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Stick after stick they flung into the water before tearing along the muddy riverbank in chase.
Each twiggy sacrifice hurried along the current to its destiny; a big leap over the edge of the rocky outcrop. The sticks plummeted into a deep, dark pool and disappeared beneath the surface. It wasn’t long until they rose again, buoyed by the amber, peaty water. Continue reading “Poohsticks | Microfiction”
They were bones like no others. Every single one was intricately carved with an array of pretty patterns. A mound over here had geometric designs. A mound over there had elaborate flowers and delicate leaves. More still featured tiny human figures bearing guns.
And then there was the jewellery. Bangles. Necklaces. Pendants. Rings. All of it gleamed with an off-white lustre, polished to perfection. Continue reading “Better Run | Microfiction”