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The shot knocked him straight to the floor and for a split second he thought he was dead. But he wasn’t. He touched his fingers to the back of his head. Wet. Blood. And when he realised there was blood, the pain kicked in – searing, burning, debilitating pain. The pain was so bad that he almost wished he had died. And then he passed out. Continue reading “Bullet | Flash Fiction”
“Delicious stew. What’s that lovely flavour?”
“Nice. Fresh or dried?”
“She was pretty fresh. Got a lot left over though, so I might dry her out – make some jerky.” Continue reading “Rosemary | Microfiction”
“Oh, shit. Dreary January is here. Prepare yourselves for misery.”
“Hi,” says January, face blank, dead behind the eyes.
“Hello, mate!” says February. “How are you doing?”
“Well, I’m skint. I’ve got nothing to look forward to. I’m freezing fucking cold and I hate everything.”
February grins. “Least you’ve got your health, eh?”
January gives a pointed cough. “Nope. Just getting over the flu.”
“Stop whinging, January. You really are a buzzkill,” December slurs. “Have a drink with me, won’t you?” Continue reading “Here Comes Dreary January | Flash Fiction”
“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”
Empty promises were sealed with a gentle kiss on the lips and followed by a final embrace. The hug was long and heartfelt, and when the women pulled away, they squeezed at each other’s hands and gave sad smiles. Continue reading “The Last Goodbye”