She’s brewed a pot of Darjeeling. No tea bags today. She’s cooked an omelet with six eggs and two kinds of cheeses, creating a creamy blue and yellow striated, slightly pungent centre that she hopes he’ll like. It’s a new… Continue Reading
Damn you and this house. Seventy years I’ve lived as your husband. Seventy years since you dug me up, since you rubbed my lamp and bound me to your side. You could have asked for immortality. You could have been… Continue Reading
“If he’d stayed like that, I wouldn’t have killed him.” Wouldn’t-‘ve-killed-‘im, wouldn’t-‘ve-killed-‘im, whispered the tyres of the London bus as it travelled through the wet, wintry streets. On board, Dora Chadwick wrapped her navy blue coat closer about her, rubbed… Continue Reading
It is, I believe, day seven of my time here. Every part of me aches. My captor, ever cheerful despite my agony, has no end of ways to inflict pain. I was caught just outside that little deli on 4th.… Continue Reading
Bird chatter floated in from the open window. She sat on the wooden chair and kicked at the table leg. He stood looking at her, holding two large mugs of steaming coffee, waiting for her to finish. “I think…” Her… Continue Reading
We sit for ages on moulded plastic chairs, their cheery orange colour shouting: ‘Look on the bright side.’ Suddenly, she looks up and says: “What time is it?” Her voice contains a note of panic. I know why. Usually, we’d… Continue Reading
I sat completely still on the couch, a statue, my hand holding the winning lottery ticket. The machine had selected seven random numbers and rewarded my indecision with a new life. My wife Shannon came out of the bedroom and… Continue Reading
“I wish you wouldn’t leave out your oatmeal bowls,” the young husband said to his young wife. “They attract ants. It’s really disgusting.” “At least I don’t leave a dozen such oatmeal bowls hidden all over the room, under blankets… Continue Reading