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Short Stories

It's always afterwards people tell you they were worried or they thought that something wasn't quite right. They couldn't put their finger on it but felt something might be wrong. Virtue-signallers, one and all. I know, that makes it sound as if I'm lacking gratitude. But I didn't know anyone wanted

Night in the country has an inkiness about it altogether unlike night in the city. I stood in the garden of our new home and let the darkness pour itself around me. The only light came from stars tossed like glitter across the arc of the sky and a thin curve of moon shining on the black water of the

Hi Sis Well that’s great news winging its way over here to scorching Sydney (God it’s hot!). Got yourself an audition, and with a proper orchestra too. Good job one of us terrible trio ended up with some talent. Only thing I’m good at is fouling up relationships, but won’t go there now, n

Chapter 1 The Duchy of Lancaster’s housing estate in Harrogate is described euphemistically by local estate agents as ‘The favoured Duchy Estate’. It was built towards the end of the Victorian era for the successful merchants of Harrogate’s booming spa town, and consists of large stone

When Susan recalled how she had been in the summer of '68, when she had first gone flat-hunting in Edinburgh, what came into her mind, with a rush of embarrassment even after all these years, was her youth, her innocence and her unshakeable belief in the values that her parents had imposed upon her

I am sitting in a café at night. I have a table by the window. The café is enveloped in a soft, dim light, but this does not disturb the pitch-black darkness outside. I find it strange that even though there is light, there seems to be nowhere where the light could come from; no lamps or wall l

1.   ‘I’ll cane you, boy.’ The voice – baritone, resonant, strangely sorrowful – comes from the school library. The word ‘boy’ is elongated, with a slight flourish upwards, like a verbal serif, ‘I’ll cane you, booooooyyy.’ The new first-year boy hurries past the li

April 13th 1807 I was hiding in the closet with a sock stuffed in my mouth. Short shallow rapid breathing. I tried with great difficulty to not make a single sound. They were like lions cleverly preying strategically on an unsuspecting plump gazelle. Peering through the slight crack, I watched on a