Blog Archives

The Beast

30/5/2014

He heard it before he saw it: a strange, innocent sound, like a distant bell.

Then it appeared.

It was monstrous, fully a hundred feet in length, reaching upwards, snaking towards him, far larger than he'd imagined even in his worst, most vivid nightmares, quicker, quicker than he could run, and with bright, shining eyes that followed him wherever he tried to take cover.

But there was no hiding place. The beast was on him in no time, opened its mouth and swallowed him.

"Welcome to Edinburgh's Trams, sir," came a voice from within. "Do you have a valid ticket?"

Flash Fiction

26/5/2014

He'd spent the day tediously rewiring the bathroom when he'd rather have written 100-word stories on LinkedIn. As he'd done the safety checks, especially the earthing, he'd turned his latest FFF idea over in his head. He'd saved a fortune using a DIY manual instead of an electrician.

Now, as he soaked in his well-earned bath, he thought: it has to be exactly 100 words; none of this 'almost 100' stuff.

Soon, the bath had done its job. In his head, he had a dead-on-a-hundred story that required immediate posting. He reached towards the heated towel-rail for a towel and

Her Final Meal

23/5/2014

"Can I get you anything?" I asked her. She'd been flitting in and out of sleep, and looked tired. She struggled a smile saying, "I could perhaps eat something."

I knew what was required. First I dry-fried a cinnamon stick, ground cloves and cardamom seeds, added a little oil then gently sautéed some sliced onion. Next, I browned some diced chicken then added coriander, cummin, fenugreek, turmeric, ginger, garlic, chilli, salt and some chicken stock. Twenty minutes later, I served it with basmati rice.

"Ah," she said, "to die for."

It was like this every week. Next Friday, beef curry.

A Study In Yellow

17/5/2014

We found him face down wearing a yellow outdoor coat and a pair of bright yellow wellington boots.

"Is he OK, do you think?" Ruth asked me. "I can't hear him breathing."

I listened too, but could hear nothing. I decided to be honest. "How should I know?"

"Should we waken him to check?" she suggested. I snorted a response: "Rather you than me."

Ten minutes later, Ruth did waken him, even tried lifting him from his cot. By now he was screaming, refusing to allow the coat and boots to come off. Yellow was staying.

Two-year-olds know their mind.

White Lilies

17/5/2014

©Foxytocin

Tick, tock, tick, tock. I look up as the pendulum swings.

Back and forward, back and forward.

I'm out at night with my sister, a few years older than me. From a safe distance, we're watching a familiar scene from the thirties: a solitary tree in a field, a bunch of white lilies stand below, silently gazing up as the tree keeps its own slow, rhythmic beat. The branch creaks in perfect time.

Back and forward.

My sister touches my arm. "Watch, Ellen," she whispers in my ear. "Watch the lilies."

"Aren't lilies supposed to be beautiful?" I ask her.

A Saturday In The Life

13/5/2014

This one's a bit close to the Heart...

Hi everyone, Saturday again, another home game.

Teams out, whistle blows, we're off.

Good start! Great play!

Ref, that was a foul! You blind?

Foul??? That ref's always biased against us!

Half time. OK, but should be ahead.

Off we go again. Good try again!

Come on, waken up! You're making it too easy for them! They're getting into this game.

That has to be... oh, no, somebody, stop him....

*****!

Come on, almost! – best chance yet.

Minute left... NO... they're away again...

*****!

I suppose that's why we're at the bottom of the league.

But there's always next week.

Morning Break With The Boys

9/5/2014

It's ten o'clock.

I'm looking down a long corridor. Because it's tea-break time, hundreds of people like me are walking from one part of the building to another. Gym to library. Farm area to education area. Anywhere to pass just another little part of the morning.

Everyone's in uniform, although not the same uniform. Some in red, some in blue, some in green; a cynical group wear jackets and carry radios.

You wouldn't like it here. I don't, which I suppose is the point.

Actually, come to think of it, could you remind me again exactly what the point is?

Acclimatising To New Hazards

2/5/2014

Louise sat up in bed, supping soup provided by her new neighbour Jenny.

"My head hurts so much," she said. "I feel exhausted and battered everywhere, like I've been in a hurricane.

Jenny smiled. "Sore head, loud noises in the ears, severe diarrhoea?"

"Yes."

"Heavonitis. You're new to this area," Jenny said. "Most newcomers catch it early on."

"I've never heard of Heavonitis. What can I do about it?" Louise asked miserably.

"Just keep your head down. Drink plenty. It goes away eventually," Jenny said. "If it comes back, your immune system is better-equipped to deal with it next time."

Flash Fiction

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