Just now, while you’re walking through the park, if you look up at the right-hand corner of the third floor of the hospital, you’ll see her, Bryony. You know she’s seen you; she has keen eyes and a sense for the coming and going of things. Back in her early twenties, when she was studying
Tag: micro story
He arrived on Nathan’s tenth birthday. It wasn’t a shock; it was as if Nathan had been waiting for him to appear all along. It had been a nice day, a little chaotic, but nice all the same. After opening the presents and tucking into a mountain of sandwiches, at three o’clock they cut the
There is something quite comforting about knowing that this is the end of human existence. It doesn’t matter that we all die; that everything is pointless and that I’ve not achieved anything. I must be special if I’m one of the last people to walk the earth, before our self-inflicted extinction. It’s the same perverse
Surrounded by bamboo trees, Molly lounges in her stained oak rocking chair, observing her spotted male cat and wondering which Goddess showered the boy with the gift of true patience. But not the kind exhibited by humans, who simply fall into a momentary lapse of reason and stare with vacant eyes at their immediate surroundings.
Every Saturday, Luna walked to an adoption center. She put on a coat and two scarves. More often than not, she carried a piece of fruit. One Saturday, it was a peach. She rolled it between her fingers, by turns gentle, then violent. Luna needed a family. She wanted a child that wasn’t too young
Too possessive to be a friend. Demanding to the point of being an acquired taste. He calls my name and expects me to come running and even if I close my eyes and try to ignore him, I hear him and feel him. God, I hate that. He never stays in the morning. That side
About two thirds of the way through ‘The Fabric of Tombstones’ there’s a line – short and sweet though it is – that perhaps sums up what we should expect from B.F Jones’ debut flash fiction collection. ‘All these souls, here momentarily, before going there permanently, trying to get on with their lives and make
The world was ruined, but I was the only one who could see; the sky bright red, buildings burning. Streets and buildings on fire. But the world seemed normal to everybody else. Overgrown carousels with faded creatures and bumper cars mocked with the inability to move, carrying instead a ride into fear. The wind rattled
She’s flicking through one of those animal encyclopaedias, the kind you get heavily discounted in the run up to Christmas, and then even cheaper before New Year, the kind nobody is ever going to pay full price for. ‘Do you think I should keep this one, Mum?’ she asks. ‘I mean, it was a present.
That year I was smoking cigarettes, swishing past boys, and worrying about Vladimir, the classroom tortoise. Tim’s desk was inches away from the terrarium and he seemed to be keeping an eye on him. Vladimir appeared too wise to be trapped. The lettuce in his terrarium turned brown, but Tim would replace it with new