“Go.”
“I’m going.”
“Right now.”
“I said I’m going!”
She scowls. “Go faster.”
“Why should I?”
“Because I told you, you arsehole. Get away with you!” Continue reading “Get Out | Microfiction”
“Go.”
“I’m going.”
“Right now.”
“I said I’m going!”
She scowls. “Go faster.”
“Why should I?”
“Because I told you, you arsehole. Get away with you!” Continue reading “Get Out | Microfiction”
“Again… ouch. Again… ugh! Again… aargh. Again… ooo…”
“I don’t really feel comfortable with this.”
“Don’t back out now.”
“But it feels weird.”
“Why? We’re just two friends, helping each other out…” Continue reading “Again | Microfiction”
Buttons from a yellow jacket – check.
Feather from a buzzard – check.
Blood from a bounty hunter – check. And that shit wasn’t easy to get hold of. I hope that dude doesn’t have any vengeful friends. Continue reading “Premium Tears | Microfiction”
“You broke it. I’m telling Mummy.”
“You always go crying to Mum. Baby.”
“I am not. You’re a baby.”
“I’m 10. You’re a baby.”
“Am not! I’m almost eight.”
“But you’re not eight yet. Baby!”
Finn threw a weak punch at his big sister.
Amy shoved him right back. “Don’t hit!” Continue reading “Believing is Key | Flash Fiction”
“Do you hear what I hear?”
Cow chews on her cud and shakes her head at Sheep.
“Dog and Cat at it again,” Sheep whispers. “Listen.”
Cow stops chewing and strains her ears. Faint growls and yowls can be heard from the other side of the barn. She sighs and begins to chomp once again.
Sheep chuckles. “What do you think it’s about this time?”
“I want nothing to do with this gossip,” mutters Cow. “It’s none of my business and it’s certainly none of yours.”
“Oh, but it is. I answer to that bloody sheepdog, see. The more dirt I can get on her, the better.” Continue reading “Bickering | Flash Fiction”
“Lacy knickers?” Leslie’s face is crinkled with confusion. “Is this a joke?”
“They’re not for you,” Gerald grumbles. “They’re supposed to be for Lesley.”
“I am Leslie,” says Leslie.
“The other Lesley.”
“But I picked the other Lesley out of the hat – I bought for her.”
“Hang on. How do you spell your names?” Continue reading “Secret Santa | Short Story”
Trev gnawed viciously at his stubby fingernails, which incited a curled lip of disgust from the detective.
“Don’t do that. Let’s have a chat, shall we?”
Trev wiped his moist fingertips on his tracksuit bottoms. “I didn’t do it.”
“But we have CCTV evidence which suggests you did.”
“Wasn’t me. There’s a bloke who looks a bit like me, y’know? You police are always getting me mixed up with him.” Continue reading “Wasn’t Me | Flash Fiction”
“Dude, stop whistling, you’ll get us busted.”
“You don’t like my whistling?”
“No. It sucks.”
“My mum says I whistle beautifully.”
“She’s lying. Here.” Sam glances quickly around them before handing Ryan a small brown envelope. Continue reading “Bloom | Flash Fiction”