Sarah’s Stand: a story

The doorbell rang. Sarah emptied her glass and placed it by the opened Beaujolais and second wine glass. Her dress was the colour of wet slates, the colour of her mood she thought as she walked to the door.‘Come in, Stuart,’ she said, radiating a smile that never touched her eyes. Stuart stepped into the…

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Suburban Sunday

Eleanor tucked herself tightly into the corner of the sofa and flicked through the colour supplement, licking a fingertip between each turn – licking, flicking, licking, flicking. Jude filled the rest of the space, long limbs bent to fit, face and chest covered by the sports pages that rose and fell with his erratic breathing.…

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Surviving Time : a short story

From the damp stone wall the oppressive timepiece hammered out the death throes of a spirit: tock, tock, tock. The man fought to disassociate from the callous beat that marched down time, leaning back into the sharp bench slats and forcing his hard fists against his ears. Anything to block the unrelenting beat. He thought…

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Christmas Diary: Day 10

3 January Really stumped today when ten drummers rocked up. Have contacted brass bands in neighbouring villages and they’re eager to hold auditions. Accommodation is the real problem. What is Rob thinking? That I live in a Tardis? He has reality issues.Mum knows everyone in the village. Some may be willing to put up a…

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