Category: Microfiction

She peered around the door at the lump hidden under a crumpled duvet. “MORNING!” The lump groaned. “How are we feeling?” The lump shifted. She stalked across the room and snatched at the duvet, throwing it to the floor before flinging open the curtains like a Disney character about to burst into song. “How are…

No one can see me. I hide in the corners and watch them. They don’t know I’m there. The dog comes close and sniffs my feet. Sometimes he whines. They look up at him and ask him what’s there in the strange high voices they use to speak to him. Joke that maybe he sees…

“Please can I leave the nightlight on?” She swayed in the doorway, the shadows on her face highlighting her grimace of disgust. “You’re seven years old. You don’t need a nightlight anymore. They’re for babies.” “But there are monsters in the dark.” “I am not having this conversation again. The nightlight goes. There’s no such…

As the tyres began to spin, she found herself thinking inexplicably of the time she had hugged the wrong mother at the school gate, her face flushing so crimson she could feel the heat in her cheeks as adult laughter swam above her. As the taxi driver swore, knuckles white on the wheel, he found…

“What’s your earliest memory?” “David Hargreaves pulling my hair when I was at nursery. I started crying hysterically and wouldn’t stop. My mum had to take me home.” “Aw, that’s so cute!” “And you?” “I remember being born.” Her laugh was so loud other people at the party looked over at them. “What? There’s no…

She walked past the dog every day. Tied to a rope barely a metre long, the grass where he paced had turned to bare earth. Her parents noticed a change, asked her what was causing the sadness in her eyes. She told them about the dog through a throat thick with tears. A week later,…

He thought of his sixteenth birthday, of sand beneath his feet and stolen kisses that tasted of rum and coke. He thought of his wedding day, of the dense cake that had fallen to the floor when his best man spun his aunt into the table. His mouth twitched at that memory. He thought of…

Fourteen eyes followed her as she walked along the sea path, salt spray making her lick her already chapped lips, her cheeks blushed by a cruel wind. Seven curved beaks. She had heard the folklore, had grown up with the warnings. But with their dwindling numbers she never believed she would see seven of them…

He strolled into the shop on London’s Savile Row with the confidence of someone who belonged there. The tailor looked up and quickly masked his look of surprise. “How may I help you, Sir?” “I should like a new pair of trousers please.” The surprise emerged. “That may be rather difficult, Sir” “May I ask…

“How did humans know they could drink cows’ milk?” “The cows told them. They could talk back then.” “Really?” “Of course. Why else would a human drink their milk?” He nodded uncertainly, stirring his cereal, the milk changing colour. “Wait.” “What?” “How did the cows know it was safe?” “The chickens told them.” “How did…