Category: Microfiction

She touched her hand to the cool stone and wondered at all of the people who had done the same thing before her. Nearly a thousand years of hidden handprints, of unremarkable people made remarkable in her head. Because she could see them all when she closed her eyes. The Norman abbot with a scar…

They avoided each other at the family party, circling around the tables of canapés and the old fashioned ice cream truck like wild animals. They hadn’t been in the same country as each other let alone the same ostentatiously large garden for five years. They each believed that the others hadn’t been invited to Jack’s…

They thought about building new rituals, ones that would last so that their child’s old age would be warmed by the glow of memories. They would let him choose a song to listen to as he brushed his teeth. They would teach him about a new bird every morning over fruit-topped cereal. They would count…

The first man was cheating on his wife. He watched him pull his ring out of his pocket as he reached for his wallet. Put it back on his arrogant finger as he walked away without tipping. The second man was on his way to a job interview, the nervous bouncing of his other leg…

She poured more coffee into the mug of the young woman trying to look older than she was. She hoped it would bring some energy into her young eyes but they remained flat and grey. It was so early in the morning she still considered it nighttime. “Have you got somewhere to go tonight Hon?”…

Their heart rates raised at the same time. One understood why. The other didn’t. A loosened grip was all it took, a crowd parting them without realising. She noticed first. He was distracted by sunlight bouncing off a windscreen, the dazzle reminding him of waking up to her smile. She called his name, her voice…

“Your job must be so lonely.” He had never looked at it that way. Yes, sometimes entire days would pass when he would simply acknowledge other drivers with a nod or a wave and only exchange pleasantries with staff at the rest stops. Some days he said nothing at all, and would then be surprised…

“Would you mind moving over a bit please?” “I’m making myself as small as possible. I’m six foot and plane seats are tiny.” “But do you have to spread your legs like that?” “Actually, yes, I can’t point them forwards because they don’t fit. Look.” “How long is this flight again?” “Four hours.” “Bloody hell.”…

He sat at his desk, discarded notebooks tossed with disgust at his feet. He tore the latest page from the latest book. Screwed it up and hurled it at the window. Watched it fall limply to the floor. He was sick of inane platitudes. “Just a bit of writer’s block.” “An idea will come when…

I saw my old teacher in the supermarket today. That man who commanded the class. Who told everyone to call him Ed, that Mr Tayforth was his dad, said with a smile that made some of the girls who liked to think they were older than they were giggle. There he was, squinting at a…