I have written quite a few short stories, most of which I'm still trying to polish for publication. I find writing short stories, especially flash, gives me a different kind of buzz and satisfaction compared to writing the novel. With short stories, the endings are closer in sight and there's that challenge of making it so much more succinct. I work on my short stories when I'm taking a break from writing my novel.
The Last Leg
I stored Jay in joint size pieces in my large freezer at the back of the lean-to, the one we had built with the kitchen extension.
I've been busy over the last few months: chopping, grinding and tending to my extended vegetable garden.
This leg - Jay's last leg ...
Published by 'Short-Story.Me', July 2012
An Okay Day
She tells herself it's okay for him to greet her at the front door in his bathroom robe and follows him to the small back room where Bible study meetings often take place.
Refusing his offer of refreshments, she sits on a chair ...
Published by 'Short-Story.Me', May 2013
Read more here ...
The Bump
“Of course we’re gonna keep it.”
Liam’s words flowed like a sweet song to my ears. Happiness rang all around me. And love? I felt it oozing, smooth and never ending.
We stroked ‘the bump’ while it grew; exhaled, ooed and arred when, all slippery and noisy, she joined our world.
“No”, I told the investigating officer, “I’ve never seen him hit her or let her fall to the
floor. Neither of us would do that. Fractures? What ...?
Liam’s words flowed like a sweet song to my ears. Happiness rang all around me. And love? I felt it oozing, smooth and never ending.
We stroked ‘the bump’ while it grew; exhaled, ooed and arred when, all slippery and noisy, she joined our world.
“No”, I told the investigating officer, “I’ve never seen him hit her or let her fall to the
floor. Neither of us would do that. Fractures? What ...?
Published by 'Darker Times Fiction', February 2014
Read more here ...
Cuts
Baby Ray was standing at
the top of the stairs, crying and licking his tears.
Ignoring him, Ellie picked the leaflet off the floor, walked slowly to the kitchen and put it on the table next to the letters demanding payment for used electricity and gas.
‘Are you ready for the benefits cuts?’ the purple writing rose from the leaflet and expanded in her head.
“I am,” she said, reaching for the blade ...
Ignoring him, Ellie picked the leaflet off the floor, walked slowly to the kitchen and put it on the table next to the letters demanding payment for used electricity and gas.
‘Are you ready for the benefits cuts?’ the purple writing rose from the leaflet and expanded in her head.
“I am,” she said, reaching for the blade ...
Published by 'Darker Times Fiction', February 2014
Read more here ...
mironline.org/saturdays-soup-s-a-edward/Saturday's Soup
Mam seemed asleep then she opened her eyes and said she longed for some pumpkin soup.
“Saturday,” Sara said, because, that was the day her mother always had soup.
Mam’s voice was feeble, but firm. “No. Today.”
“But it’s Thursday and the meat’s not even seasoned.”
“Well tomorrow,” Mam said. “Get a piece of pumpkin an’ one or two eddoes from Mr Mo on the corner. An’ put a little orange lentil in it.”
It was a while since Sara had made pumpkin soup. In her own home, the only tradition she’d managed to hold on to was rice and peas on a Sunday, but since her return to Ponders Grove to take care of her mother, her Caribbean cooking skills had been forced back to life.
Sara knew Mam was likely to sample a few morsels, swirl the rest of it around then push the bowl away. Swallowing was difficult for her now, but the meal would still have to smell, look and taste like she’d cooked it herself, or else she wouldn’t even sample it.
“That might be a bit too heavy for your stomach, you know, Mam,” Sara said.
Mam pushed her thick, dark lips out and made a hissing sound, as she sucked air in between her teeth. “What you know?” she said, tugging at the bedclothes. “You think is you that know what’s bes’ for me? Put a little sugar in the dumplings, eh,” she continued, “an’ don’ make them too hard like you accustom doing.” She turned her head on the pillow to face the half drawn curtains.
The next day, in the kitchen, Sara peeled and chopped onions, garlic, eddoes and pumpkin and dropped them into the pot with the meat and tiny orange lentils. After that, she made the dumplings, adding a little cornmeal and semi-sweet water.
Proud of her results, she spooned some of the soup into a breakfast bowl and gave it time to cool before presenting it to her mother. To her surprise, Mam’s only complaint was about the size of the dumplings. Sara cut them in half.
The following morning, Mam was dead.
Published by Mechanics Institute on line 20 February 2017
Read more here
Mam seemed asleep then she opened her eyes and said she longed for some pumpkin soup.
“Saturday,” Sara said, because, that was the day her mother always had soup.
Mam’s voice was feeble, but firm. “No. Today.”
“But it’s Thursday and the meat’s not even seasoned.”
“Well tomorrow,” Mam said. “Get a piece of pumpkin an’ one or two eddoes from Mr Mo on the corner. An’ put a little orange lentil in it.”
It was a while since Sara had made pumpkin soup. In her own home, the only tradition she’d managed to hold on to was rice and peas on a Sunday, but since her return to Ponders Grove to take care of her mother, her Caribbean cooking skills had been forced back to life.
Sara knew Mam was likely to sample a few morsels, swirl the rest of it around then push the bowl away. Swallowing was difficult for her now, but the meal would still have to smell, look and taste like she’d cooked it herself, or else she wouldn’t even sample it.
“That might be a bit too heavy for your stomach, you know, Mam,” Sara said.
Mam pushed her thick, dark lips out and made a hissing sound, as she sucked air in between her teeth. “What you know?” she said, tugging at the bedclothes. “You think is you that know what’s bes’ for me? Put a little sugar in the dumplings, eh,” she continued, “an’ don’ make them too hard like you accustom doing.” She turned her head on the pillow to face the half drawn curtains.
The next day, in the kitchen, Sara peeled and chopped onions, garlic, eddoes and pumpkin and dropped them into the pot with the meat and tiny orange lentils. After that, she made the dumplings, adding a little cornmeal and semi-sweet water.
Proud of her results, she spooned some of the soup into a breakfast bowl and gave it time to cool before presenting it to her mother. To her surprise, Mam’s only complaint was about the size of the dumplings. Sara cut them in half.
The following morning, Mam was dead.
Published by Mechanics Institute on line 20 February 2017
Read more here
