Category: Short Stories

Continued from Part 1: “We always have choices, we have always *had* choices, but we don’t always remember that we had them. It is convenient to forget we had choices.” X: That doesn’t actually respond to my point though…. 🙂 The YM: Which point? Sister: > Like I said, I “chose” in ignorance and innocence.…

X: Dreamed of telling Y I actually did want some of my mother’s stuff – one of the torcheries. Then I offered her some tiny souvenirs I got in China TYM: Lol!! In the abstract that there is something of hers that is valuable /desirable/wanted – haha, but not worth that much. X: Oh! Later…

The mist still hung over the bracken, the Thames meandered peacefully by. A pair or antlers rose above the bracken, tilting back as a black nose sniffed the air. The morning stillness was broken by the thunder of hooves and the cries of young men. Harry led the way on his strong grey stallion, his…

Bones On The Beach The gentle waves seemed at odds with the macabre bones they washed over. The skull grinning up from the disassembled pile was the only indication that these were human remains. I was shocked and excited in equal measure. As a new reporter on the local paper for a forgotten stretch of…

You know that high-pitched squeal you hear when you burn wood? You might think that it’s air escaping but you’re wrong. It’s the screams of dying wood faeries. Those pops and crackles? That’s their skin blistering and their bones breaking. That sweet smell? It’s not the wood – yuck! Wood smells of nothing when it…

Amelia DeVere was dreading her birthday; Brian and the girls were coming round with her present, a lap top. They had given her several other choices; a clever phone, an eye mask, a lozenge or was it a capsule? She had plumped for the lap top, at least she wouldn’t be expected to put it…

This story is dedicated to my husband, Roy Froud, who told me to write a story about my very own arch-nemesis, Mr. Procrasto! The rope that held Captain Workhard to the table cut into his wrists. He could hear the whirring of the computer as it loaded and tippy-tapping of Nate’s typing. A robotic arm…

He was there again, outside the station, selling the Big Issue. Giles never bought one because he didn’t want one, or at least he didn’t know if he wanted one; you could hardly peruse it then hand it back. On the tube Giles had The Times to read, he subscribed to it on his Kindle.…

Yesterday, I watched my dog, George, chewing on a nut shell. As a result, this is the story that came out of my brain! It’s a bit…er…nutty. Once upon a time, there was a dog named George. He was a fat little bugger because he kept eating nuts. Human nuts. Now, don’t get me wrong,…

Today was four years long.  Not metaphorically of course.  Literally.  Each second stretching on for twenty four minutes, each minute lasting just over a day, each hour ballooning into two long months.  Tomorrow – well, tomorrow will be four years too.  Four long years, but that’s tomorrow and at least I get a good long…

‘Are you alright Laura, you look worried.’ ‘Oh Jason, I wasnt expecting you. Yes I’m okay, just having a genre crisis. She doesn’t know whether she’s writing Orange Booker or chic lit. I don’t know whether to talk about my tortured past or shopping.’ Jason massaged her shoulders. ‘I know the feeling; am I the romantic lead…

The shop was so quiet I wondered if I had made a mistake moving to a market town. I didn’t mind the minimum wage, there was nothing to spend money on around here, but it was the boredom I couldn’t take. I looked up as a loud voice bellowed from the aisle, was this the…