Category: Microfiction

“Why do you always have music playing?” “I don’t. I turn it off when I sleep.” An eyeroll. She was used to his literal way of thinking and speaking. “Apart from when you sleep. Why do you always have music playing?” A smile. He was also used to his literal way of thinking and speaking.…

“Do you remember our road trips?” She could hear Dylan’s ‘Like a Rolling Stone’ as they drove down Highway One towards Big Sur. She could feel the sun on her face as she tasted her first beer on the cobblestones outside the Menin Gate. She could smell the fresh bread from the boulangerie they had…

She pulled a cobweb from her eyelashes. “This is ridiculous. Why do we keep so much junk?” “It’s not junk. Everything in here has been useful and will be again.” “Really?” She held up a VHS player. “Even this?” “They’re retro now. I’ll whack it on eBay. Guarantee it sells within a week.” “And this?”…

“You know you don’t belong here right?” “They can see right through you.” “You’re not good enough. Just go home.” “They’re all talking about you. They’re laughing at you too.” She had carried the voices in her head her entire life, a faceless jury that always found her guilty. She looked once more at her…

The two grey heads bent low over their neighbouring plots. The air was thick with the smell of sun warmed earth. “What are you growing this year Pete?” “Onions. Carrots. cabbage. You?” “Tomatoes. Lettuces. Beetroot. You growing coleslaw there Pete?” “You growing a side salad Rog?” They chuckled over the joke that was as old…

It had taken him eighteen years, nine months and seventeen days. But it was finally complete. He put the paintbrush down and picked up his folding chair. Crossing the road to the park across from his house, he took a seat and looked. After so long up close and personal with all of the outer…

“Don’t you feel bad?” “About what?” “Exploiting people’s grief.” Mary had expected this when she turned up at the quiet pub for her biannual seance. Although her evenings always sold out, she knew not everyone liked what she did. But this woman with the grey eyes and fragile hair came every time to berate her.…

“There’s a magpie in the garden.” She looked out the window. “Just the one?” Her daughter nodded. “Yup.” She whistled. “How about now?” “There are two! How did you do that?” She smiled the secret smile that she had been born with. The smile that could make a bad day good, the smile that charmed…

“What’s your favourite colour?” “Pink!” “Urgh, you’re such a boring GIRL.” * “What’s your favourite colour?” “Pink.” “Really? Why?” “Have you ever considered a world devoid of pink? No flushing of skin when someone is embarrassed or in love. No cherry blossoms filling the skies and attracting insects with their blooms. No rich sunsets formed by…

“Happy Birthd…” “Nope.” “What do you mean nope?” “I mean nope. You think I want to celebrate the uncontrollable marching of time? The aging of my flesh as it starts to sag from my bones? The steady decline towards the grave?” “Bloody hell I was just being polite.” They looked at each other through the…