The below is a very, very short story I named ‘Until Five’. I kind of like it in a bleak sort of way and I doubt I’ll ever do anything with it, so that’s why I’m posting it here. Until Five One of my legs feels fuzzy against the other, like a kiwi. I can’tContinue reading “Until Five [fiction]”
As predicted, I have scrapped most of the scene about Josh and Ivy that I published last week. This is a new one… “You’re up early.” I squint over my shoulder at Josh’s slouchy, bare-chested figure in the hallway. His blonde hair – usually so carefully coiffed with his special hair stuff, is completely flatContinue reading “The other woman”
This is an extract from a story I’m writing. I’m a bit worried it’s the literary equivalent of a stick drawing, but hopefully you’ll like it for its amateur charm. A fog horn woke me. Or was it Josh’s bread maker? He thinks it cures his insomnia. There’s something cathartic about pouring in the flourContinue reading “A birthday party with myself (fiction)”
Jack Morke wanted a whisky. He’d never particularly wanted a whisky before, but now he wanted one more than anything. Preferably in one of those round weighted tumblers with big ice cubes that rattled against the sides. Men drank whisky. Men with problems. He sighed and leaned back in his chair.