Just A Feeling

Just A Feeling It’s just a feeling, a tingling in the toes. I pull them back and wriggle them around but the tingling remains. Very odd? I decide to go for a walk marching around the neighbourhood like a demented crow all stiff-legged, feet pointing. After a mile, I think my strange sensations gone. They […]

The New Shoes (5)

I hear them giggle. I feel them wiggle. I smell an unknown scent. My wife is with another man and a rage I have suppressed for a decade surfaces. Why I carry a knife I do not know, but I do and it feels good in my palm. I act before they stir. I stab […]

The New Shoes (4)

The landing has a familiar air that the other rooms have not. I know there’s a picture of Helen and myself looking right at me even if I can’t see it. The picture is yet another bane; it is of our wedding day, a constant reminder of my shackles.I sneak towards our bedroom: first door […]

The New Shoes (3)

I bumble my way across the dining room to the foot of the stairs. Here, I pause. I know full well the first three steps creak from shoddy workmanship. Even though our house is still new in the timespan of such things, the stairs are a constant noisy annoyance. I step to the right which […]

The New Shoes (2)

I run my fingertips across our new kitchen doors; they seem less polished, more ragged than the lacquered finish that cost me a holiday and a year of moaning. I don’t know why this is because I bought them for Helen, or so I convince my obsequious self each new day that I fawn upon […]

Drifting on a Dream

Drifting on a dream. I’m drifting on a dream. I remember you from somewhere, but I’m drifting on a dream Grandma was old, ancient, in fact. With skin like Norwegian fjords, one could trace her beginnings through history right back to the day she was born. I often wondered what she was like as a […]

This Dream

50 Word Stories: This Dream I sit in the coffee shop staring at images of the Venetian lagoon all crumbling facades and stucco plastering. A spotlight glimmers like a golden sun, yet it is dark outside, a miserable morning. And I realise as I sup my ochre ichor, I’m lost in this dream called life.

50 Word Stories: At Last

The end. The big full stop. The grand finale. The last hurrah. Whatever you called it, this was it. Nothing left but rocks, rubble, bones and me. There was no sun, no sound, just a pinprick sky and a few lonely meteorites without an atmosphere to burn up in. Perfect.

In London Fogs Are Empires Built.

Through the London fogs I stagger, lost in a drunken haze of misfortune and bad decisions. Some call it life, but I prefer bad luck. Time is lost in this place, this grey cityscape of unaccountable moments. No bat nor bird fly here, both confused, as are all. Like limbo, my London remains neutral waiting […]