Flash Fiction

  • Alone, naturally

    We moved in perfect union until our satisfying end. Your calloused fingertips caressed my face. I opened my mouth to speak but you placed a finger on my lips and shook your head. Instead I moved until my head lay on your shoulder. Gazing at the window, my legs rubbed against yours. I twisted under…

  • Come Along

    I saw your mother talking to you again last night as though you were there. She left our bed to go to your empty room, to your little crib, spotless and cold. I crept to the door and watched as she sat in the nearby rocking chair, my breathing shallow, my eyes stinging with tears….

  • Darkest before Dawn

    Maybe she had known about the curse since she was born. Maybe her mind was just concealing her fate to give her a few happy and peaceful years. But doom was always close at hand. When she heard the song on the radio, the world started spinning and she suddenly understood. She could hide but…

  • The Key

    I remember the day I found the little brass key. A nondescript thing. The box, on the other hand, was made of wood mellowed by time and hands. On the lid an inlaid mother of pearl oval with a circle of ebony at its centre. As a child I thought it was an eye guarding…

  • Three Portraits & Three Tales

    While visiting the BP Portrait Award 2012 exhibition Dawn Reeves and I were particularily drawn to three portraits.  They have inspired these three short tales –  to view the three portraits from exhibition click the links at the end of each tale. Dear Barbara by Joanna Sterling 5a Atlantic View Windy Villas The Lizard Cornwall  Dear Barbara What a…

  • Time Line

    I stand at the apex of the time. One foot in each hemisphere. This narrow piece of metal divides the world, East and West, rich and poor, the liberated and the repressed, the haves and have nots. Every time I visit Greenwich Park I stand on this spot. As a child I came with Dad….

  • Toothpaste Tubes

    I squeeze out the last bit, screw back the top and put the empty tube with the rest in the chest of drawers my parents bought us when we married. The first one I kept was from the hospital. You hadn’t finished it and nor did I. I tried a different brand once, but it…

  • The Daily Commute

    You are our daily companion. We stand, sway, jostle and lurch. We don’t notice the views you provide as we hurtle past – back gardens with paddling pools and washing lines. At the hub of the City you disgorge your reluctant cargo. Like ants we scurry to our offices, returning hours later to our favourite…

  • Trust’s Lodger

    Doubt follows me around the flat. Humming like a faulty plug socket, always about to threaten a nasty shock. It’s clear we’ve become too close. The choice of cereal takes up the morning. Words run and hide whenever I pick up my pen. Umms and errs abound. Tension mounts when her boyfriend, Fear starts staying…