The fun of abuse lies in being immune from consequences. The key to immunity from consequences lies in anonymity. That’s why Paul closed his laptop with a bang when he looked up from tweeting that Meredith Palmer is a pig-ugly…
Blog Archives
Last Summer on the Beach
Do you remember last summer? You fell asleep on the beach with your hand across your stomach. I’d gone for a swim and I didn’t want to wake you up so I stroked sunscreen all over you with my fingertips.…
Friendship’s Optimum
I’d like you to know that I’m a good friend. That you are in my thoughts at least three times a day. And also that – What was that? You haven’t heard from me since last year? I hadn’t realised…
Things that Matter
Tessa hadn’t been to Matt’s flat before. She made it to the middle of the living room before she stopped and looked around. “You’ve got so much…you,” she said. Matt took her coat. “What do you mean?” Tessa waved at…
A Predator Stalks the Supermarket
Les would no longer be one of the herd. He strode into Sainsbury’s with his shoulders back and his head high. The automatic doors parted before him like wildebeest before a pouncing leopard. He hooked a basket from the stack…
Shooting the Deserving
Hooper looked down at the man he’d shot four hours earlier. Handcuffed to a hospital bed with his right shoulder encased in plaster, he didn’t recognise the man who had tried to shoot the prime minister. The blue eyes that…
The Cat and the Crosshairs
The sniper in khaki swung his rifle toward the movement, his finger caressing the trigger. He’d seen a human form vanish into the wreckage of a house before he’d been able to make out any detail. He watched the house…
Six O’Clock Shuffle
The train doors slid open, inviting Zack to his first mistake. He tried to get on the train. What else was he supposed to do when a train opened its doors? A torrent of humanity poured out. He’d thought he’d…
The Bailiffs’ Bet
ete gave the cottage a once over while Gerry parked the car. It looked like the last man to paint it had been paid in shillings and the front garden was halfway to being a jungle, but at least the…
Tagged with: Contemporary fiction, Debt, Flash fiction, Microfiction
Posted in Saturday Hooptedoodle
Posted in Saturday Hooptedoodle
The Millionaire Beggar
Fred should have known better than to get into a political discussion with Bill. He still wasn’t sure how their cross-cubicle conversation had led to Bill saying he’d show him something if they went to the café opposite Morrisons after…
Tagged with: Contemporary fiction, Flash fiction, Mark Johnson, Microfiction
Posted in Saturday Hooptedoodle
Posted in Saturday Hooptedoodle
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