Inkwells and Balderdash

Short stories and other various ramblings.

The Dissident and the Sun

‘The dissident stands muddied and tired. He walks the uneven path with straightened conviction. The traffic noise sings around him and he settles into his skin.’

Tightrope Walker

‘Everyone knew but would never admit it. The most praise she hoped to receive was the feared look in the housewife’s eyes as she hurries her children indoors.’

The Deepening Fog Pt.1

‘I cricked my head and held it to the sky. The clouds were made of branches, crooked and beautiful.’

The Deepening Fog Pt.3

‘The trees had now turned into shadows, black silhouettes painted onto my eyes, the thin cold of them seeming more pressing than those at my back.’

Don’t Play It Again, Sammy

"Of all the McDonalds in all of the world, she had to walk into mine."