Category: Microfiction

“What are you waiting for?” “A plane.” He looked around and a nervous laugh slipped from his mouth. “Well obviously. Which one?” She glanced at him without seeing him. “I’ll know when I see it.” He shifted in his chair. “Right. Okay.” The silence between them was thick despite the general clamour of the airport.…

He felt it before he heard it, rumbling beneath his feet and making his back teeth vibrate. His palms were slick with sweat and when he tried to call to Rob his throat constricted around the words. Instead he caught his friend’s eye and as the rush of noise started to close in he could…

As the darkness descended upon the room like an unkindness of ravens, she knew that her time had come. She knew it from the fluttering of her heartbeat, from the liquid feeling rolling in her stomach and from the pain in her leg that had deadened to an incessant buzz. Most of all, she knew…

The genie had granted her three wishes, and she had already used two. Why had she wished for a smaller nose? It was too small for her face now, her eyes looking lost and unsupported. And why had she used the other one to ask to be an influencer? Now all the comments on social…

He could see into the past. Even at his young age he knew better than to tell people. Grown ups talked behind their hands when children were different. His dad collected coins, and whenever he let him hold them, he could see the lives of everyone who had held them before him. At first it…

“Where did you go?” “Upstairs. To get my glasses.” “Are you trying to be funny?” “I’m not telling a joke.” They looked at each other, him in the doorway with his glasses in his hand, and she on the armchair with grey shadows carved beneath her eyes. “You’ve been gone for three days.” ‘I’ve been…

She loved the way snow set the slate of her life clean. The way it covered every imperfection and deadened every sound. Her neglected garden became a soft blanket that hid weeds and brambles and bounced fresh winter sunlight onto her skin. Her heavy footsteps and the sound of her mother’s voice telling her to…

The nights had started to draw in, the frost nipping at her toes. She didn’t have long. She had gone from home to home, getting to know which neighbours were generous with their food. She wanted to tell them how grateful she was but they intimidated her, large bodies and big voices. Footsteps on gravel.…

“Hello mate.” “Oh. Hi.”“You ok?” “All good.”“You sure?” “…”“What’s up?” “…”“Dude. Talk.” “She’s gone.”“Who? Erin?” “Who else?”“When? Today?” “No. Sunday.”“Oh. Shit.” “Really shit.”“I’m sorry.” “Me too.”“Another drink?” “God yes.” * “What happened?” “She cheated.”“You sure?” “Pretty sure.”“Because why?” “She changed.”“Changed how?” “Dunno. Secretive.”“Secretive like…?” “Her phone.”“Calls? Messages?” “Both. Lots.”“Oh. Shit.” “Really shit.”“Another drink?” “God yes.” * “Ben.…

She had always been accident prone. As a child she could trip over anything. A kerb. A tree root. Her own feet. She lost teeth, carried bruises like they were pennies and broke the occasional bone. As a young adult the clumsiness didn’t abate. She stubbed toes and dropped cutlery with alarming regularity. She refused…