So You’re Dead… Now What?
A collection of short stories and flash fiction about the what happens next. Is there really a life after life?
I Didn’t Do it!
A collection of short stories and flash fiction about murder and mayhem. I warned you. Don’t say I didn’t!
While you’re waiting for your Kindle download or Amazon delivery…
Below are a bunch of Short Stories to keep you busy. Pick up a brew, put your feet up and enjoy! If you’re in the mood for something quicker, snappier, shorter, briefer… here’s some flash fiction.
P.S.: Im stil findin typoos!!! Every time I re-read a story, I find one! I don’t mind if you let me know that you’ve found one too. Can’t guarantee a prize. Just a long distance “Thanks very much”.
Cottage Pie, Chips and Bread and Butter Pudding
A candle. That’s all it takes. Just sit in a dark room and stare at a candle. Josie tried. God! She had to get a grip. Get the noise and chaos out of her head. I want milk. I want juice. What’s for dinner? I hate cottage pie. Where are my shoes? Gimme chips. I want to watch TV. I want I want I want I hate you! Meditate. Read more…
I make the tea. That’s what I do. I don’t do the clever things these young people do nowadays. I’ve never done that. What I have done is raise four children. They’re all good in their own ways. All mostly happy and living their lives. That’s who I made tea for. My children and my husband who worked too hard and died too young. Read more… (Published in Woman’s Weekly magazine)
A Fiver, At Least
“I can’t do it. I can’t. I’m a hopeless, useless, pathetic liar. You know what happens when I lie.” Eliza Grant covers her face for a moment and looks up at her oldest friend. Nicki grins at Eliza’s scarlet cheeks, pushes her dessert plate away and licks cream from the tip of her spoon. “I know what happens you try to lie, think about lying or even pretend to think about lying.” Read more…
“She looked lost, like she didn’t know where to go or what to do.”
“What did you say?” Michael Clarens looks at his daughter over the top of his glasses and turns the page of the novel he was determined to finish before spring.
“It’s what the neighbour said.” Sarah squeezes the bridge of her nose and shuts her eyes. Read more…
Sod it. Samantha opens her eyes. Sod it. Sod the whole lot of it. The room is dark. Mostly. Light comes in from somewhere, she just doesn’t know where. A bathroom bulb or sun through the curtains? Hotel… right. She’s in an hotel. An hotel? A hotel? Sod that too. She isn’t at home. Last night… Crap. Read more
“Oh, God, not again!” Ruby Rusko woke knotted in sheets. Trapped so tight, it took a moment for her to accept that she was in her own bed and not strapped down, tied up and buckled into a straitjacket. Three weeks and four days. That’s how long it had been going on for. The same bloody dream. She wriggled and kicked the bedding until it lost its grip and fell in a heap on the floor… Read more
Nobody Knows George
Maggie closed her eyes for a moment. For just one second she needed privacy. She needed to block all these people out. All these people dressed in black with sad expressions who shook hands and nodded and plastered frowns on their faces between phrases that could come out of corn-flake boxes if corn-flake boxes mourned the dead. “Sorry for your loss”, “We’ll miss him”, “Great man”.… Read more
Left or Right
Miles Willaby stared at the standard issue, dual, 22 inch monitors the company had given him after he’d given them almost half of his life, and blinked once. The image didn’t change. The screens were still filled with numbers, graphs, rules, restrictions, barbs and wires. If he’d known… Read more
“It’s been four years, Emily.”
“Could be yesterday.” I shut my eyes and let the shop assistant squeeze between me and the rows of skirts and shirts, jackets and trousers, dresses and six inch heels I didn’t wear when Eddie was alive. Why should I wear them now?
“Four years,” Sadie repeats and holds up four fingers in case I’ve gone deaf in the last sixty seconds.
“I don’t want to go.”
“You have to.”
“I don’t know anything about him.”
“You’ve been talking online for six months. You know everything from his job to his preference for boxers over tidy whities.”
Oh, God. Now I really don’t want to go… Read more
(Published in Woman’s Weekly Fiction Special)
Her In The Yellow Coat
“She’s there again. Same old woman. Same yellow coat. She’s following me!” There’s silence on the line. “Vics, you there?”
“What? Sorry Trish. The dogs, Michael, I… Get the dogs out of…” Vics laughs. There’s barking. “Oh, hell, that’s it. It’s take-out for dinner. Trish, sorry, what were you saying?” Read more
Return to Sender
“There’s another one!” Cyrus Cruikshank shoved the box to the other end of the dining room table. Just like the others, the post mark said it was posted from somewhere in London with a return address to someone in Wales. Stupid. Cyrus stirred three spoons of sugar into his tea. He had a farm to run. Didn’t have time to return packages to idiots who didn’t know how to get it right… Read more
Number 7 Bus
“Paint something for me. Do me a picture.”
Annie closed her eyes and wished the squealing human in front of her would evaporate and go away.
“Oh, Annie. You have such a gift. So much talent. These are amazing.”
God. Two of them. Annie finally looked at the child. A stupid little red-head… Read more
In My Defense
“I didn’t do it!” Eddie Mince grips his fists into tiny tight balls. “This is nuts! You guys see a guy like me walking down a street with trees instead of trash and you think any kind of bad shit to go down must have been me who did it. Well I didn’t take the damn car. I don’t care how much ‘my style’ it is.” He shoves his hands into his lap and picks a scab off his thumb….Read more
In the Wires
Mindy Cooper slumped on her bedroom floor over a pile of pretty-in-pink dolls. It was her birthday. HER birthday too. Why did she have to sit here and play with stupid dolls while Kevin got to build carts and race them down the hill? It wasn’t FAIR. Mindy punched her eight-year-old fist into the stomach of a rag doll. The stupid toy just grinned back at her. It didn’t even blink or cry. Mindy picked up a thick knitting needle and stabbed it in the embroidered eyes. It still didn’t object… Read more
One of them has to die. That’s just a fact. As certain as the sun rising on Jeremiah Pope that morning and as certain as it will set on him that night. The three month rent on the house he took to watch the two people he was choosing between was almost up. In one week he’d have to move on. Less than a week: six days. Read more…
Clyde Cruse pressed his face against the wet cracked tiles. Water from eight shower heads splashed about him filling the base and lapped over the step into the changing room. He didn’t care that it was called Windale Minimum Security Prison. A prison was a prison and showering with seven other guys he’d apparently pissed off in the week since he’d arrived wasn’t what nature intended… Read more