McCaw Media

Tag: short fiction

  • Short Fiction: The Same Every Time

    I turned my car towards the hotel with some trepidation, to be honest, even though I knew exactly what was going to happen. I didn’t want to go there at all, and if I thought I could have got away with it I’d have gone straight past and ignored her, but I knew she’d have…

  • Short Fiction: A Letter From Jane Austen To Her Brother

    My dearest Edward, How timely is your wonderful invitation to come and stay with you a while in Hampshire! I am in sore need of a prolonged rest with little to disturb me, for I am quite beset with all manner of communications which clamour for my attention, hence my tardiness in replying to your…

  • 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…

  • 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…

  • 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…

  • Short Fiction: The Melville

    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…

  • 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…

  • Short Fiction: The Dealer

    Before he’s even opened his mouth I know what he wants. ‘Vinnie,’ I says to him. ‘I’ve told you before – it’s no good keep coming back, I ain’t got any and I can’t get me hands on any.’ ‘Have you tried—’ he starts. ‘I’ve tried everybody I knows and they’ve tried everybody they knows.…

  • 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…

  • 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…