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”
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”
The house seemed to have crumbled from the foundations up. If there were bodies buried within the rubble, they weren’t going to be easy to find.
The detectives were totally perplexed. It was the only house for miles around, and there’d been no witnesses to give clues as to what had brought the structure tumbling down. Continue reading “Hungry | Flash Fiction”
“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”
“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”
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”
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!”
“What are you doing?”
“Painting, Mummy. Look. Our house.” He points at the crooked series of shapes and blobs on the page. “And us stood outside.”
“Look at the mess.” Continue reading “Tried | Microfiction”
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”