Category: Microfiction

He sat at his desk, discarded notebooks tossed with disgust at his feet. He tore the latest page from the latest book. Screwed it up and hurled it at the window. Watched it fall limply to the floor. He was sick of inane platitudes. “Just a bit of writer’s block.” “An idea will come when…

I saw my old teacher in the supermarket today. That man who commanded the class. Who told everyone to call him Ed, that Mr Tayforth was his dad, said with a smile that made some of the girls who liked to think they were older than they were giggle. There he was, squinting at a…

“What’s that noise?” “What noise?” “Can’t you hear it?” He put his finger to his lips. “Shh.” She listened. At first she thought it was next door’s TV. Then perhaps the fridge. She stood and went to the French doors, placed her palm on the cool glass for reasons unknown. “I think it’s coming from…

I don’t know why jealousy is described as green. The green eyed monster. Green with envy. Green is the colour of freshness, of new life. To me, jealousy is a muddy, sludgy brown, so thick that in certain lights it looks as black as the fenland soil. Jealousy is an envious feeling towards another person…

Her dreams were full of attempts to fly, her feet lifting off the ground, teasing her with temporary flight before she landed heavily back on the earth. She would wake with cramped toes and a lingering feeling of absence, a need unrealised. She considered skydiving but remembered she was afraid of heights. Maybe one day…

Dear Kate, I’m sorry I couldn’t stay. I wanted things to be different, imagined a future where the two of us would have the wedding, the house, the kids, the retirement. I never told you this in person, because if I kept it to myself, I could at least pretend that it might actually happen.…

She was so excited by the delivery, practically grabbing it from the startled postman’s hands. A box full of undelivered mail. An adult’s pass the parcel. She imagined a brand new tablet. Maybe some jewellery. Perhaps a family heirloom or future antique. The possibilities felt endless. Instead she got a box full of the mundanity…

They had to be twins. “Which one of you is Eric Cooper?” “I am.” Everything the same. The timing, the tone, the way their mouths moved. Uncanny, even for twins. “This is a great joke, but as you can see, we’re extremely busy today. Whichever of you isn’t Eric, please make a separate appointment.” As…

“Dad, you’ve got to get rid of the sofa.” He looked up from his place among the shapeless cushions and threadbare fabric. “Do you know how long it has taken me to mould this sofa to my shape? It’s not going anywhere.” “But it’s hideous!” “Your mother chose this sofa.” The mother she only remembered…

Their fingers were stained a reddish purple. Not quite the colour of blood, but close enough that they would wiggle their fingers in each other’s faces, saying ‘woo’ like all of their imaginary monsters did. Their tongues tingled with the sweetness of the blackberries, so heavy with ripeness that it left them giddy. Their mothers…