Silly Story – Meatup?

Meetup. There was something about the word that drew me in. Or, rather, something that drew my tongue out. Meetup. “Eat up!” my grandmother used to say. “Come on, eat up! I made it especially for you – it’s your favourite!” But I didn’t eat up. Instead, I put my feet up, up and onto…

Savvy Story – Carapace

She paces. Two forward, one back; three forward, one back; for forward, one back. And, in this way, she picks up her pace, each time, getting a little bit further. As others, get further, they actually get closer – closer to a goal, to someone else’s goal – a goal that someone else set, for…

Quantum Coupling: A Short Story

Disclaimer: The images at the foot of this post link to Amazon. Should you choose to make a purchase, I will receive a commission at no extra cost to yourself. She’s angry. Angry with herself and angry with her mother. Angry with the trees that are her home – her family. Penknife in hand, Roots…

The Drilling: A Short Story

  Crouching below the window-sill, I knew I couldn’t be seen. I couldn’t be seen and neither could I see out. It was best that way. To give into temptation and take a glance out, out at what might be lurking beyond, would have been tantamount to sending out an invitation – an invitation to…

Assassin: A Savvy Tale

  Sassy. Swinging her cloth bag, she saunters along the sauce isle, stopping only to grab her selection. Not Tesco tomato sauce, no – only the best for her (or for him)! Heinz it is. High sugar content needed. She pops the lid, peels back the silver seal, tips up the bottle, holds it high…

Simulating Crumble: A Very Short Story

Inspired by five random words from Issue 64 of ‘mslexia’: ‘exposing’, ‘limping’, ‘simulations’,  ‘performance’ and ‘speciality’.   Simulations being her thing, her speciality, she gears herself up for the final performance. She types in a name, his name, sits back and watches. Watches him limping towards his destination, watches him exposing himself, watches as all…

Fed By Ashes: Part 1 of a Long-Short story

‘Useless!’ she yelled, hurling my precious beans out of our kitchen window. Somehow, I’d had the distinct impression that Stepmother was referring to me, rather than my beans ‘Make sure you give me back the change!’ she had barked. ‘Don’t go spending your father’s hard-earned money on yourself!’ In my view, though, if Stepmother was…