Bubblegum | Flash Fiction

Wall covered in colourful bubblegum

We always used to buy bubblegum from the ice cream man when he came around in summer. We weren’t interested in 99s and Mr Whippies and ice lollies – the sweets was where it was at, and bubblegum was the crème de la crème of ice cream man goodies.

There was this game we used to play where we’d all try and see how many pieces of gum we could chew at once. We’d hang about on the street corner chomping away like cows, chewing through the jaw ache until our mouths seized up and we had to admit defeat. I was the record-holder – twelve pieces of gum I did, once!

We all got a kick out of it – it was dangerous, according to our parents. Bubblegum’s a choking hazard, see, ‘specially when you’re shoving a handful of gumballs into your mouth at once. There was this rumour that went round about a kid that died from chewing on two many pieces of gum. This big, sticky mass of strawberry Hubba Bubba got stuck in his throat and none of his mates knew how to do the Heimlich manoeuvre and he turned all blue and his eyes bulged out and he pegged it.

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There’s Evil Afoot | Microfiction

Woman in bed with face covered by duvet

She can sense it as soon as she wakes up. Something has changed. There is evil afoot. But why?

She wraps her dressing gown around her, slips on her slippers and heads downstairs. It’s cold. Too cold. The front door is ajar. She peers out and spies a delivery man get into his truck and pull away.

Faint singing draws her into the kitchen – ‘White Christmas’, all out of tune. Her skin prickles with goosebumps.

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What A Novelty | Microfiction

Hands holding a wrapped gift

Gran pushes a parcel towards me. “I hope you like it. It’s exactly what you asked for.”

I tug at the bow and claw at the paper, barely daring to hope that she really did get me what I asked for.

“I suppose they must be all the rage,” she says. “I can’t quite keep up with all these trends. It all moves too fast. And I just hope it doesn’t go out of date before you get your use out of it.”

I open the box and I think my eyes are deceiving me.

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Hate Notes | Flash Fiction

Three yellow sticky notes and a blue marker - "Hate Notes" flash fiction

It’s a yellow sticky note today. Blue ink. Just the one line: “Your hair is shit and so are you.”

Bit lacklustre. Not witty, not clever, not even particularly brutal. Perhaps the culprit’s losing his knack. After all, this is sticky note number 398. They’re bound to run out of insults to throw at me eventually. They can’t all be fierce doozies like number 187 (“Mr. Blobby called. He wants his body back.”) or number 249 (“Do something for the greater good. Kill yourself.”). They’ll probably stop soon.

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Lodgers | Flash Fiction

Man in dark room looking out of window. "Lodgers" flash fiction

The front door slams, the house shivers and its inhabitants freeze.

“They’re back,” says Daughter, and her face quickly crumples as tears well.

“Don’t you dare cry,” hisses Mother. “They’ll hear us.”

The family falls silent and listens. A series of thuds and rattles comes from the floor below. Cupboard doors are opened and closed, opened and closed, over and over. Then there’s a short yell, a moment of quiet, and the soft wail of a miserable child.

Daughter whimpers. Mother glares at her.

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