Flash Fiction

  • Mastic Lady

    There was once a woman who lived alone.  She never went out. She lived in a small flat on the seventh floor where every seam and crack was sealed with mastic.  All the windows were blacked out with paper. Each morning she would check the seals and each night she would reapply mastic to the…

  • Housework

    In our home, I do the lion’s share of the housework. He lies on the sofa while I vacuum around him, his eyes closed, the only movement the slight twitch of his tail’s dark tip. I walk the streets of the city at midnight as he pads beside me, his great tawny head swaying. The…

  • Margery Breaks Free

    Margery Taylor swings around to face the descent. Her eyes are bright with defiance, a sheen of sweat glistens on her smooth young skin. She is sick of rules. Slow down Margery! Keep off the road Margery! She has pushed the bike all the way up the steepest hill in town, on what will be…

  • Rain of Thought

    The clouds were hanging above the city like freshly washed clothes. Everything was dripping with grey and gardens of black umbrellas bloomed every morning as the people hurried to work. The creaking of wellingtons, the whooshing of the raincoats’ wings and the rhythmical drumming of the raindrops on the tin hats of rubbish bins resembled…

  • An Old Man’s Teeth

    He let his new false teeth sink into each grape, red and plump with juice. “They will feel part of your mouth soon,” his dentist had said “just give it time.” But as his mouth flooded with sugary bits of grape, flesh and skin and blood, he only felt plastic.  He longed to spit the…

  • I Remember

    I remember my first day at school with a gigantic shoe bag, made of old curtains I remember my school shoes, lace-up, brown. I remember sniffing, at new and glossy books. I remember someone giving me a black eye in the playground (I remember kicking her). I remember the smell of tangerines on Christmas mornings…

  • The Glimpse

    Hurtling to the surface from the depth of the Northern Line I think I’ve lost him. For a minute, everything contracts but my face, which contorts into a panicked, liquid misery. But then I see him. He’s crossing the road, heading away from his old flat. I skeeter through the traffic, maybe risking death, I…

  • Transience

    Darkness. I’m awake. I am aware. But I cannot see. Cannot feel. Cannot hear. I fight the urge to panic. But panic anyway. Panic doesn’t help. Nothing helps. I am in a state of nothingness. Blind panic. Deaf. Panic. Time passes. I am aware. Am I aware? Of time passing? I know who I am….

  • Chestnuts for my Sweet

    Ravenous, we split them open. They lie naked, exposed. They’ve already been ripped off the branch, then tortured by burning, finally brown bagged. Greedily we devour them. Pete and me, warming our hands first. We tongue test the heat of their crunchy guts. We’re laughing, together. Pete can’t resist, he chucks one at me. It…

  • Left Behind

    Are those the remains of the starter?  Urgh!  Hummus and garlic, if I’m not mistaken.  You’re using the paper napkin.  You didn’t even remember a pen.  Cadged one off the waiter.  Which one is the jotting about?   The comb-over in the corner? The fat legs protruding from the lycra mini skirt? The repeatedly licked full…