Category: Microfiction

The cat watched it from the conservatory. That too fat pigeon with its too small head. Eyes with pupils like saucers looked into eyes like small glass beads. It leapt from the doors towards the lawn and watched with feigned indifference as the pigeon lifted up to perch on the fence. The pigeon watched it…

It was his favourite noise in the world. That rhythmic thwack of oar into water and that liquid lift when it swept up and out again. That repeated sound that wrapped its way around his heart and forced it to beat to the tune. His breath fogged in front of him and he felt moisture…

She dreams in purple. Usually it’s a soft romantic lilac that allows her to gently fold into herself like a satisfying yawn or one of those stretches where everything pops and cracks in a glorious symphony. But last night her dream was the colour of clouds that have built on a hot summer’s day and…

The birds have stopped singing. As I knew they would. First it was the sound of children laughing. That disappeared almost instantly. I never appreciated it when it was there and freely admit to generous eye rolls aimed at too noisy children in public spaces. But then it stopped. And I found I missed it.…

The final box felt too small for the room, overwhelmed by bare walls and empty shelves. She stood and looked at it, not wanting to pick it up but knowing she could never leave it. Inside were a long-broken clock, a chipped mug decorated with black Labradors and that green jumper he refused to part…