Dear Lost Forks,
I’d like to begin by thanking you for your vital, if short-lived, service. Over the past few months, you have done important work in aid of my taste buds and my stomach. You helped me to shovel pasta into my mouth at a rate that is almost superhuman. You allowed me to mash avocado onto toast so beautifully that my Instagram followers were driven wild. You even helped me to tackle the ring pulls on my Diet Cokes when I was afraid of breaking a nail, a task that is far beyond your intended role.
I know that I haven’t always been kind. Many a time I woke you from your slumber in the cutlery drawer, only for you to lay idle beside my plate as I threw my manners out the window and ate my food with my hands. You didn’t pass judgement on this lewd behaviour of mine, even when I ate so viciously that you were splattered with sauce and crumbs like mere placemats. Following this, and to my shame, I would simply mark you as ‘unused’ and replace you, unwashed, in the cutlery drawer.
Without a doubt, it is antics of this nature which have forced you to leave without saying goodbye…
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‘What are you doing, Grandad?’
‘I see that. Why?’
‘Goin’ to China.’ Continue reading “Diggin’ | Microfiction”
She refused to be broken by it. Instead, she’d turn it into a positive.
She’d been thinking for a little while that it was time for a new adventure, time to broaden her mind and see what else there was on offer.
She wouldn’t be defeated. She’d rise to the challenge. She’d take the bad and turn it into good. This was an opportunity. Continue reading “Never Broken | Microfiction”
“The assumption was that we would meet at 7.30pm, having already purchased our sweet treats and stashed them on our persons, ready to buy our tickets and find the best seats in the cinema.”
“That was your assumption, actually.”
“Instead, you met me at 7.30pm not only without your sweet treats, but without any idea of what sweet treats you wanted.”
“This was a cinema trip, not a military operation.” Continue reading “Assumptions | Flash Fiction”
“Who’d feed us?” said the dog, head resting on her paws.
“Well I can fend for myself,” said the cat, as she stretched out a paw and extended her talons. “These claws weren’t solely meant for scratching the sofa. You, on the other hand, have no idea how to hunt. You’d probably perish. But your ineptitude is none of my concern.”
The dog rolled her eyes. “If you hate her so much, why don’t you just leave? Killing her seems so extreme.” Continue reading “That Sweet Spot | Flash Fiction”
“The soup’s too thin!” the head chef squawked, over and over until the junior chef thought she could take it no more.
She’d done her best. She’d tried to reduce it. She’d tried adding cornflour. She’d tried dolloping in cream. And still the meat soup didn’t live up to the head chef’s standards. Continue reading “Soup | Microfiction”
She’s just… exquisite.
The way her hair wafts in the breeze and shimmers under the sun. The way she smiles and licks her lips when she catches her breath. The way she takes in the world with big, hazel eyes, as though every day is the most beautiful she’s ever seen.
Every single move she makes is extraordinary. And her tail! Continue reading “What Does He Have? | Microfiction”
Laughter is the best medicine, but when healthcare comes at a price it is only the rich who are lucky enough to try the tonic.
Jacques made a sound living from flogging laughter, but it was a miserable job. He spent his days trawling the streets, waiting on jokes and witticisms before pouncing upon those who heard them.
As soon as the laughter came tumbling from his victims’ mouths, he’d leap upon them and capture it while it was still fresh. Continue reading “Laughter is the Best Medicine | Microfiction”
“I’m the most vital ingredient in this dish.”
“Rubbish!” cried Tom. “I’m a beef tomato. Like, the king of tomatoes.”
“You’re just the fat tomato,” sneered Moz, “that’s all. Meanwhile, I’m buffalo mozzarella. Buffalo beats cow any day.” Continue reading “Food Poisoning | Microfiction”