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Short Stories

SHORT STORIES: Beverley Road

Between A and B were many things. Some charming, some dangerous, some confusing. All dark. He could have taken the bus, but had little cash and wanted the fresh air. it was a risk to walk the mile north to the suburbs, but he was not…

SHORT STORIES: A Burnt-Out Case

“Steve, we’ve got a call-out.” “Where to this time?” “Brough Park. Some act of vandalism.” “Ok then, off we go.” The vandalism turned out to be a car. A VW Polo Estate. Or what had once been a VW Polo Estate. It was now a burnt-out hulk.…

SHORT STORIES: McKenzie

The rain rushed urgently down the windscreen as the officers sat watching the tatty red door. It had rained all afternoon, but had really began to pour after ten, when the sky had darkened even further and opened itself freely onto the…

SHORT STORIES: A Letter To Clarisse

As James left the room, Clarisse spotted a crumpled ball of paper next to the basket and decide to stoop and amend the imprecision of his aim. As she picked up the ball, she saw her distorted name on the sheet, and began to straighten it…

HALLOWEEN HORROR: To Scotland!

I first met Kate online in an Internet forum for a book we both loved. She was witty and clearly creative, and while we struck up a friendship almost immediately, eventually I developed more feelings for her. But I’m the sort of dorky guy…

SHORT STORIES: The Good Wine

The girl was young, sixteen. So was the boy. The girl’s name was Eliza. Her hair was a wild mess of brown curls, and she liked bright colors and big earrings and chewing Doublemint gum. The boy was Jimmy. He was a nice boy with greasy blond…

SHORT STORIES: Afterwards

The rain shears itself across the glass, and he lets out a sigh. Wipes a tear from his cheek and looks at it glisten on the side of his palm. Lets the light bounce off it and into him. He watches as she walks away from the building, off…

SHORT STORIES: Leaving Bisbee

“I like your outfit,” I said to the inebriated cowboy. We stood together at a long wooden bar and stared at gleaming rows of bottles on the mahogany shelf. The interior of the Bisbee Stock Exchange was cavernous and spooky, filled to…

SHORT STORIES: Lion of Judah

The Rev. Susan McKenzie had not realised when she first took on the Parish of St. Trillo and St. George, Rhos-on-Sea that she would also have responsibility for a third church, the little chapel that sits on the seashore just below the road…

SHORT STORIES: The Mucklowe Gap

Every other day for the last thirty-six months Stanton’s sole job had been building a gap into a wall at Mucklowe. It was definitely the same gap. The width might have strayed the odd inch in the struggle but the gap’s purpose had remained…

SHORT STORIES: A Wish

She flipped the lighter and lit her third cigarette in a row. She smokes it until satisfied, stubbing the rest of it out on the curb. She stands up and brushes off the excess ash that landed on her fur coat. And the coffee tastes great, it…