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Short Fiction: Dedication Is Key
Dedication, that’s what it took. Personal achievement, relationships, success – dedication was the key to all of them. As he drummed into his children, you had to work for what you wanted. Year-round he trained, measuring, timing, perfecting his technique, straining to get the best out of his muscles and sinews, heart and lungs. He…
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Short Fiction: Antonia’s Thank-You Letter
Dearest Sylvie, Thank you so much for a splendid evening at your birthday party on Saturday. I can’t remember the last time I went to such a shindig. The birthday cake in the shape of Balmoral Castle was a triumph of the confectioners’ art, and it was such a shame that Steven’s mistimed swing of…
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Short Fiction: Why Grandad Never Wore A Watch
The front of the matchbox had a red background, with blue and white detailing in the corners, and in the middle was a white oval showing a blue drawing of a steam ship, which, curiously, also had rigging for sails. My grandad said it was a Victorian battleship called HMS Devastation, and he told me…
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Short Fiction: The Bottle
My Nana had two mysterious things in her house – a locked cupboard and a ship in a bottle. I was never allowed to know what was in the cupboard, but I was allowed to look at the ship in a bottle, as long as I didn’t touch it. I spent hours staring at that…
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Short Fiction: The Portrait
So I says to Frankie, ‘How do I look Frankie?’ and he says, ‘Bellissima, doll, Bellissima!’ which me giggle, and I’m already like a cat with two tails because Frankie’s spent a cartload of money hiring that Leonardo da Vinci to do me portrait. He’s so generous, my Frankie. Anyway, it’d taken me a couple…
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Short Fiction: Digging The Allotment
‘COPS HUNT MISSING ARISTO’ read one of the more down-market headlines. Ella didn’t need a newspaper to let her know what the police were doing. They were on her allotment, trashing a year’s worth of growing and tending as they searched for a body. She watched, raging but helpless, as they ripped up sweetcorn, climbing…
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Short Fiction: The Cobra Crown
Sweat dampened her hair and trickled down her neck as she slung a shoulder bag across her body. The red light in the darkroom didn’t help, intensifying the heat surging through her. Urgency drove her racing pulse, and the vital importance of her mission made her clammy hands tremble. She looked at the timer, willing…
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Short Fiction: A Random Click of the Shutter
Everything in the bungalow was neat and pristine, except the photo frame. Its glass was clouded from her fingerprints, but she didn’t care. She’d taken the snap at her daughter’s wedding, miraculously capturing an unguarded moment of laughter between her husband and her daughter. A random click of the shutter became the treasured image of…
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Short Fiction: The Washerwoman
The men do not take the trouble to get to know me, but they are fascinated by me. They bring their easels and brushes and colours and stare at me as I work. If they want me to stop so they can catch the light from the water as I heave a sodden sheet from…
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Short Fiction: A Hundred Paces
I try to keep my hand still, the apple resting on my palm, so I try not to think of how I loathe him, because the loathing and the anger make my hand shake. Oh, everybody in the village thinks the sun shines out of him…