Tagged: fiction

C: Rick Doble - rain on my windscreen 2

Parking in the Rain

He stopped his car in a side street and hopped out the door to check on the price of parking. There was always some bloody rule or other; police vehicles only, fifteen minutes loading zone, clearway on the second Monday of every month during school term. Was it too much...

blue 4

Blue

She feels the press of it in her palm, the weight of the thing. Such a small key, she thinks, for such a large door. The heavy wood is cool, gives away none of its secrets. But she hears it at night, calling to her. He will be home soon....

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The Stripper

It’s gotten to that point of the night already. He’s asking me what I do. “I’m a stripper,” I say. “I strip for a living.” His wife, taller than him, holds onto his arm and my words. “No!” she says. “Not really?” “Yes,” I say. “Really.” She gives me a...

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The Long View

I send off a couple of stories each month to various journals and competitions. Sometimes I get published, sometimes I get mercilessly rejected and my heart trampled into the still fiery coals of a summer bonfire. Bastards. I recently entered the Fish Publishing Flash Fiction prize and, although I didn’t...

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Four Friends

Norah, not one for nervousness, nimbly nudges her intent into the gnarly craniums of her no-good neighbours. “No nonsense, now,” Norah announces. “This ain’t no novel. Nuance is necessary.” Sally sneaks into the side alley, slithering her scaly skin over the slimy stones. “Thissss way?” she whispers to Fyodor. “For...

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Grandma’s Budgie

I hate that bird. Its black eyes. That hooked beak. The way it turns its head to stare. Its dark red feathers. But mostly, I hate its voice. I’ll never understand why Grandma bought a budgie. I guess she wanted a companion, a living thing to share the house with...

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The Trail

The pigeons descended almost immediately on the bit of sausage on the ground. Marko looked down at them; he looked at the trail of tomato sauce running down his trouser leg. The clouds had cleared overnight and, with a spring in his step, he had gone out that fine morning...

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The Time Traveller

The Time Traveller glanced at the watch on his left wrist as he hurried to the indicator boards. He looked up at the panel and cursed; he needn’t have rushed. The 4:14 to Poughkeepsie was running 8 minutes late. He checked the watch on his right wrist and did the...

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An A to Z of Women Writers

Like many people, I like to create rituals or impose odd limitations on myself in order to get stuff done. For instance, I recently went to Bristol to work on my novel. Yes, Bristol. It seems like an odd choice, but if I’d stayed in Zagreb I probably would have...