Tag: Fiction
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OPEN DOOR

It always followed the same pattern. Middle of the night. Panicked phone call. Incoherent story. She always ended up agreeing to go over. This is different. Door wide open. Probably just a neighbour didn’t close it right. Out of habit she checks the mailbox. Empty. Up the stairs, lit by flickering halogen. Along the corridor.…
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KITSCH
Can a person be kitsch? He’s sweet, but he wears trouser braces with a garish shirt and hat and brightly coloured cords. I give him a chance, but then he invites me back to his and I see the living room… 1970s mustard-orange decor and chintzy lamps, and I’m out. ‘I’ll be off,’ I say.…
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DEAD ROSES

Dead roses in winter, withered and defeated. The Grand Armée reduced to an icy hell. The villages they entered had nothing to offer. They had stripped them bare of what little they had on their way to Moscow. Starving, frost-bitten and dog-tired, he stumbled on. To drop now meant certain death. No comrade would burden…
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AFTER THE FIRST DATE
How long before making the call? The next day – too desperate? Two days – too aloof? A week – too late? Always the same conundrum. Not this time. The following evening. Perfect. He dialled. ‘The number you have dialled has not been recognised.’ Written for the Weekend Writing Prompt, hosted by SammiScribbles. This week’s prompt…