Category: Friday Fictioneers
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WHAT ARE LITTLE GIRLS MADE OF?
She saw him through the window as he approached the café. The arrogant strut, the charming smile, the nonchalant wave. She stopped toying with the sugar shaker and placed it back in the rack and clasped her hands together to mask her nervous tension. How had she not seen it in the first place? How…
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CRABBIT
Shovelling the seaweed away, Agnes was not happy. ‘Fourth time this year,’ she muttered and threw a disgruntled stare at the waves lapping against the ineffective flood wall. Archie pulled up in the hire van. He drove over the seaweed Agnes had spent the last hour gathering into one neat pile. ‘Next lot ready?’ he…
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THE MORNING AFTER THE NIGHT BEFORE
She could hear her mother’s voice from the grave, ‘Is it worth it?’ The world tilts out of kilter. Sun sears her eyeballs. Cool tarmac against her face. Shards of broken green glass. A dent in a red metal bin. Memories of the night before. Anger and hatred. Standing firm. Too slow to run. Her…
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FREAK
They call me a freak. I live in the old church surrounded by crosses and hang garlic cloves from every stained-glass window and revel in the sunshine that pours through the coloured panes. They call me a freak because I’m not like them. They’ve stopped visiting now. I never invite them across the threshold. I…
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EVOLUTION
IN THE APARTMENT ‘When did you last see your baby?’ ‘I went into the kitchen to collect her food. When I came back, she and the chair were gone.’ ‘You think someone stole the chair and kidnapped your child?’ ‘I don’t know!’ ‘Alright, Ma’am, keep calm.’ ON THE STREET ‘Dispatch, this is Officer 423. We’ve…
Iain Kelly 