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Wonderful

31/8/2018

"Go on," she said. "Try it, it's what you want."

He reached out, felt the tender skin, felt its softness as it gave a little to his touch. Bewitched by the glorious red round forbidden fruit, he hesitated.

"It's OK, really," she repeated softly. "Let me help you."

She was wearing perfume. Reaching behind his head, she guided his mouth towards it. Suddenly, exquisite juices were running down his chin.

Embarrassed, he looked up. "Sorry. I'm making a mess."

"Good?"

He nodded. "Wonderful."

"Fine. But next time you think about stealing one of your neighbour's tomatoes, please just ask instead."

The Test

24/8/2018

Each evening she took out the same album, containing around 130 family photographs. Some dated back decades, others were less than twelve months old. Each evening she tested herself, counting the pictures where she could still identify all of the faces, using a small handheld click-counter bought online.

107. It had been only 103 the previous evening when she'd been tired, but her scores had been dropping generally in recent months.

She knew what was wrong, but wasn't yet ready to tell anyone, not even a doctor. Because when she did so, she knew her life would change for ever.

Drabble Trouble

15/8/2018

Truth to tell, they nearly came to blows about it.

She'd insisted that it could be fewer than a hundred words. He – a pedant – insisted that it was a round ton or nothing at all. She'd entered a 99-word story to a "drabble" competition. He was horrified to discover that it had won first prize.

It hadn't helped that his own story, exactly 100 words long, hadn't even received an honourable mention. They argued long into the night until exhaustion overcame them.

A few days later she received a cheque for £99, £1 less than she'd expected. He felt vindicated.

The Secret Agent at the Edinburgh Fringe

10/8/2018

This story is to all intents and purposes true, and happened to me recently.

Writers had fifteen minutes each to speak about their books. I was the last of five.

My eyes were drawn towards the literary agent sitting in the audience back row. Although I'd heard much, I'd never previously laid eyes on her. People spoke her name in hushed tones: single-handedly, she turned ordinary writers into mega-rich superstars.

Her agency had rejected my first book.

Now was my chance, though. My act could sell Dostoyevsky to five-year-olds. I'd grab her attention and she'd approach me afterwards, smiling.

But... as the fourth writer ended her talk, the agent silently rose and slipped away.

Wonderful

The Test

Drabble Trouble

The Secret Agent at the Edinburgh Fringe

Flash Fiction

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Wonderful

The Test

Drabble Trouble

The Secret Agent at the Edinburgh Fringe

Flash Fiction

Collections(FREE!)Click on image

Archives

Collections
(FREE!)
Click on image