50 Word Stories: My Flying Dog

When our dog flew out of the window on gossamer wings, I dropped my spoon in my breakfast. He didn't even bark a goodbye. I shot outside and stared as he showed off by doing several somersaults amongst the rain clouds. Mongrels! You never knew what they were crossed with.

Pets and Their Breaking

 When the screen shattered, three months of torturous work splintering into hundreds of tiny pieces, she looked my way and glared. "I'm sorry, love," I said. "He'd evolved," she growled. "Sorry." "Doesn't matter." "Oh!" "He was the wrong colour, anyway." "How about I get you a real one?" "Will he break?" "One day, perhaps." […]

In Winter Stills

In Winter Stills There is a path off a road off a hillside off a dream, a path where all the silent ones go to sleep. I followed it once without care for myself. This is where it led. The snow fell in relentless cascades obliterating my footprints so I might’ve stepped through a thickening […]