Stories

“I cannot believe we found it! It’s exactly how Flyers, Fly-ins and Flies described it.” 

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“You sure it’s still open?” 

Published by

The Sprawl Mag

His boots knock slow and even on the floor, she is waiting for rain, sand crunches underneath his soles, her fingers are turning the pages of a newspaper.

Published by 

Maudlin House

When the lawnmower broke, 

we did nothing. 

We never talked about it, 

we just watched 

the grass grow 

long around it.

Published by 

Ghost Parachute

They were selected for practicality, nothing else, because they could hold foreign grammar, dead dictator’s speeches, photosynthesis simplified, pi and lunch.

Published by 

Southeast Fiction

Like a grandfather clock, the old oak ticks against the window. The carpet is pressed down in squares and rectangles, the way grass remembers a picnic.
(page m-n)

Published by 

After the Pause

As so many things that slipped away and turned from useful into garbage after wandering for too long, the birds no longer look for – or care about – 

the difference.

Published by 

The Missing Slate

You taught me how to align
the small, trembling needle
of the compass you carried in your pocket, the gold colored arrow pointing north (so I could always find my way).

Published by 

Lowestoft Chronicle