It was time. Finally. Shaking hands grip my bicep and without looking up from my phone I pull my arm away. My gum has lost its flavour which sucks. “This sucks.” I say. His hands move from my arm to my waist, pulling tight. The feather tucked in his hair tickles my nose and I… Continue reading Goodbyes Are Hard
Category: Short
Hard Rubbish
Next to a broken set of drawers is a couch with the seat pillows missing and on top of the couch is a mattress and between the mattress and the couch is a dead body. I’m pretty sure it’s dead. The arm dangling down the side of the couch is bloodied and one of the… Continue reading Hard Rubbish
Anything You Want, You Can Have.
I check the cable ties again and frown. He’s sweating and keeps moving about so much I’m worried he’ll get loose. I’ve always trusted rope more than these stupid bits of plastic but the company won’t fork out for anything these days. ‘Superfluous and unreliable’. Idiots. I use a second tie around both his wrists… Continue reading Anything You Want, You Can Have.
Star(tled)
I suppose it wasn’t that long ago when the star fell from the sky. He was surprised at how small it was. Some may describe it as tiny. Though tiny, he reminded himself, is a relative term. I mean compared to an average sized elephant he was tiny. But compared to his old skinny jeans… Continue reading Star(tled)
Worth.
His phone was dead and the dirt and rubble didn’t allow sunlight to reach him. How long had he been down here? Something hard and cold was impaled through his side and it was difficult to breathe. The ground above and below had him pinned looking down so his face was in the dirt and… Continue reading Worth.
Too Much Has Already Been Written About Storms
It was a once in a ten year storm. Catastrophic. Never before seen, heard or imagined. That’s what the media told us. In our current climate it felt like we had one of these almost every other week but we didn’t care, not tonight. Tonight felt like something special. I chucked on an old shirt… Continue reading Too Much Has Already Been Written About Storms
Flight & Fight
It is hot. It is bright. I left my sunnies in the car and my head hurts. There is a pimple on my neck and I scratch it idly. I turn to my cousin who is a cunt. “Hey can I borrow your sunnies?” “No.” Cunt. I squint up at the monolith in front of… Continue reading Flight & Fight
The Fifes Go On Holiday
“Kids, your mother and I have something we need to tell you.” Peter paused. He relished the tension reflected in the eyes of his three children and forced himself not to grin as he took a deliberate sip of tea. Susan, his wife, sighed and squeezed his shoulder. “Come on Peter, you’re being cruel.” “Yeah… Continue reading The Fifes Go On Holiday
Punk Show
I’m wearing dirty blue jeans and a jacket to match. My checked shirt is from Kmart and the Docs on my feet were a birthday present from my mum. I’ve got shitty hip hop blaring from my headphones and when I walk I keep my shoulders hunched and my eyes straight ahead. In my mind… Continue reading Punk Show
Cut.
Everything is foggy. Why am I so. Foggy. There is a cut just under the knuckle of my left thumb and I don’t know when it got there or how but it has been there at least the last few days and it is not like it is bleeding or there is a scab just… Continue reading Cut.