Cherrypicked stories
SIlverland II
Peter was reading, or something. He’d muttered something about “re-evaluating some maps” while they were still lying in bed, about half an hour ago. Sara had let him go, but not very willingly.
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- 1460 reads
Silverland I
It was a Ford Falcon. The engine was cooling, making tiny noises that echoed in the narrow road.
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- 1475 reads
I have always wanted to dream of flying
I remember that bodies pop when they land and I would explode like some sort of unholy watermelon. Pips and pitch strewn across the childrens play area.
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- 948 reads
Playing it out for the camera
Keith is married. Or is he? His fiancee seems to think so but then she's on her way to Brussels in an Easyjet. Alone.
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- 1165 reads
Track 14: Space Junk by Devo
200 words.
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- 2 comments
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- 3131 reads
The Road of Dust
Welcome to the Beginning...
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- 735 reads
These Walls
A poem about the barriers we put up, crushes and wooden planes.
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- 2383 reads
The Black Pointy Hat
Not that the scarecrow minded how he looked; he was, after all, just a scarecrow...
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- 1816 reads
THE QUEUE MASTERS
Queue for bread, queue for milk, queue for sex. It's the great British tradition after all. Empires were built on it!
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- 591 reads
Dance Dance Revolution
The tramps have started grooving. I do not approve. When they bodypop It makes me itch. I saw a vagabond in a tweed coat Spinning on his head Making his damp trilby go all flat.
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- 1064 reads
The Fridge
A short story about the fridge that never killed me.
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- 2051 reads
Doing a Corporate
2 co-workers are ill-met at a New Year's Eve Corporate celebration
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- 1020 reads
Secret Messages
He leaves the phone cradle Turtle-flipped beside a biro Doodle of fire To remind her Of the night they sat Wang-eyed on a see-saw And kids set some bins alight Near the far railings.
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- 1039 reads
Pale and Ignorant
A long exhalation of air, laden, worrisome. A sound in the dark. Two figures le, one sleeps,
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- 1218 reads
Dreams: Monday to Friday.
Monday: I am scoring anti-capitalist slogans on a Coke billboard at the back of London Road market whilst supping a Sprite. My geography teacher points out that Sprite
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- 1356 reads
Deep Soul Treasure
A friend said today. That I have to split love. Between, a reason, a season, or forever. I'd never heard that before. But it makes a sense. Although it's still raw. I think of her,
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- 1470 reads
In
In The women are armed with brochures but I don’t want to walk down that street, to where the post box waits for me with its lips baby bell split, inviting wanting.
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- 1298 reads