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Writing

SHORT STORIES: Subliminal

It happened on a Thursday. I had skipped breakfast because I didn’t have the time. This wasn’t uncommon. I normally skipped breakfast.I caught the Bakerloo line to the office in Paddington. The journey consists of two stops. Due to…

SHORT STORIES: Purple, Red

Loud shouts of drunken cheer, slamming of bottles, and a real distinct “40 types of beer have spilled all over this floor and no one bothered to clean it up” smell hung about the crowded bar. A hazy smoke drifted across the busy room from…

SHORT STORIES: Ends Meat

There it was again – the smell. Barrick glanced at his father, who had his eyes closed but he probably wasn’t asleep, just too exhausted by hunger to keep them open. His cheeks were shallow, as though sucking air, his lips two thin lines of…

Why Did I Stop Writing?

And now we've reached the crucial point, the part that I was quite honestly dreading, because I don't want to admit that this is how I actually felt about it, and it's such a simple statement.