Cherrypicked stories
The Ultimate Teenage Romance Novel, Prologue
Oh. Hell. No.
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- 1635 reads
One of those days
“Guess what??!”.... She screamed into the phone.
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- 1018 reads
Advice on Dying
Face the open window, make collages of clouds Add lovely garden things like fuzzy felt In this, your second infancy Wake to a plume of starlings or a finch
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- 2259 reads
Sad Girl
Do you recall the sad girl? The sad girl that sat there? The seat in the back? All alone in the back of the class? She's not there now. She's not anywhere. She has drowned in her tears.
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- 1387 reads
Loughborough
We didn't wear our coats but there was still touch of cold in the air, everything was just like summer, if you squinted.
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- 2383 reads
Have you heard?
Have you heard the whisper,
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- 1605 reads
The Hero
There I was, with the bitter taste of sand violently blowing in my face. The taste was vile. I saw sand as far as the eye could see but on the horizon there was a lonely tree standing by itself.
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- 840 reads
Cruel North Wind
longing and loss
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- 2641 reads
Baby Bummers
Pop will eat itself... but it will be sick afterwards.
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- 1696 reads
A meal without you
Whispers of light illuminate the finger marks on the porcelain of a white chipped cup which sits contently curved. After dinner plates, allowing the remains of olive oil
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- 1806 reads
The Ultimate Party
You know that party, it's the one coming up next.
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- 1632 reads
50 Ways
Back off slowly Sprint like hell Fall into an open well Moonwalk with a sexy grin Ride off aboard a sleek gazelle Yell: ‘Je ne t’aime pas, mademoiselle!’ Or glue him to a carousel
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- 3341 reads
Miss Scarlet Always Moves First
In the Stockholm garret I found an incomplete scrimshaw giraffe carved from whalebone. The four legs had been buffed to a dentist's pearlescence, the hooves neat as knives
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- 1764 reads
16 Guitars
Your house Has lots of instruments, You show me the Steiner That your dad likes to play He should have been A professional. Your house Has 16 guitars, A silver dobro, A double bass.
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- 1066 reads
Coming and Going
A man's letter to his deceased wife
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- 1220 reads
Locus delicti
("place of the crime") Heavens boy, don't you think to clean your coat? Never mind. Get a bath. Those ears must be sprouting potatoes. An hour late! Did you talk to strangers? What's got
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- 1216 reads
What possesses someone to get Myra Hindley and Ian Brady portrait tattoos
on their shins? Barely a wafer of skin there to cushion you, that'd cane, surely. And how nice that Brady gets a look in! So often Hindley's Helga 'do, bleached
Ringing the Changes
She'd wanted one for ages. There was no avoiding and no denying with adverts everywhere, that they were beautiful. But too expensive to buy right away.
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- 1657 reads