So far in glorious London we have enjoyed about three days of summer. Today is the fourth. The sun is shining, the children are shrieking outside, my office fan is blowing hot air in circles, the inebriated are out early… and…
The Hemingway Day. Quiet Please.
Apologies if the below contains any mumbles, bad grammar or is just bad writing. Blame it on the tennis-man. I have everything crossed for Roger Federer to win today, although I find myself in times of trouble watching this current match, my nerves…
Fool.
I have penned a little fool inspired story in honour of April the 1st. Here’s hoping you haven’t been subject to too many mischievous escapades this morning… Fool. Him: The tears loomed above her eyelashes, threatening to slither down her cheeks…
Stranger.
Today’s The Hemingway Day, telling tales of deceptive appearances… Stranger. The pupils peering back weren’t hers. Thanks to the Daily Post for the photo prompt.
The End of the Line.
The Hemingway Day… Aiming to deliver a few seconds of literary escapism as work begins to take its toll for yet another year. The End of the Line. He was ready. Just three steps. Thanks to the Daily Post for the…
The End of the Line.
The Hemingway Day… Aiming to deliver a few seconds of literary escapism as work begins to take its toll for yet another year. The End of the Line. He was ready. Just three steps. Thanks to the Daily Post for the…
He's Alive.
It’s a very merry Christmas from me and my festive happy house guest, and the last of this year’s The Hemingway Day flash fiction… He’s alive. Their bodies recoiled, their eyes bulging. Thanks to the Daily Post…
Alone.
The Hemingway Day with five seconds of Friday fiction… Alone. Amidst unfamiliar pandemonium, she remembered loneliness. Thanks to the Daily Post for the photo prompt, ‘Twinkle‘.
Vampire.
Vampire. My trainers were the whitest of white. Blobs of blood plummeted onto the milky leather, instantly at odds with their crisp colour. My foot had slipped along the metal pole where the paint was cracked and flakes of…
