It had been four months since I’d last had a full conversation with her. I loved her more than I did whilst I was talking to her back in those sun drenched summer days. Now here I was in the days of winter, walking home from this decaying high school in bum fuck Omaha. A […]Read more "Microfiction: Four months later"
It was summer, an Omaha summer, I hated the sun. My black pyjama t-shirt was soaked with sweat and I felt dizzy, the sun’s rays broke through my blinds, whilst I talked to her; her being Elena Kitt, I ‘d been talking to her for half of the school year now. I was in my […]Read more "Microfiction: one more personal demon on the list"
I hated most things; though I found solace in solitude and writing, as well as music. I sat up in my room, listening to The Smiths The queen is dead loudly. I knew that education had failed me, the teachers so damn carefree had with carelessness fucked about with education and now here I was […]Read more "Microfiction: It’s failed and there isn’t much that can be done"
The lake was unpleasant. That was the only way Mitchell Wright could put it. “Oh my god you still like her don’t you?” Sherrie Bluewood said to Mitchell, who sighed feeling stupid for what he had said. “Baby I don’t I just said we got to know each other more recently.” “Bullshit you liked her months […]Read more "Microfiction: Just another overly romanticised lake"
The Dammermen’s sat at the dining room table inside their Omaha household, the rest of their family sat there as well, all together, eerily happy- all was right. It was December 25th 2014 the turkey had been cut and the family had reunited. Louise Dammermen’s drug addled brother- Desmond who had recently been got divorced […]Read more "Microfiction: Prevailing domesticity"
The outside mall was dusty, full of large families and battered cars all decaying in the harsh sun. I was dressed in a light blue polo Ralph Lauren shirt, red shorts and aviators- which blocked out the Sun’s damned rays. I was accompanied by my family. All who loved Florida like me. A Latino family […]Read more "Microfiction: Floridian thrift"
The pathway was littered with leaves, brown and crisp, I could smell bacon in the air as I wandered past houses with soaked clotheslines outside. It was an all too similar Autumns day in Canada. The kinds of days which I had grown to despise. Autumn was when my wife Irene had died (which was eight […]Read more "Microfiction: The tree branches drooped down that day"
The prison was darkly lit, a lonesome light fixture flickered above, casting a lifeless shadow on the floor. Countless people wandered around it, violence in their eye and unhappiness and disenchantment all around. One inmate sat on a rotting wooden bench, fidgeting with his fingers. Whilst watching. He felt something slightly sharp poke him. All […]Read more "Microfiction: Bloodshed"
The Howard’s passed through the back alleys of Pomona, hurrying past the strange men in long black trench coats with unkempt hair and beards. Shuffling past the women in crop tops and hiked up skirts yearning for someone and something. Something that the Howard’s couldn’t provide and they were thankful that they couldn’t provide. Allen […]Read more "Microfiction: How are the Howard’s?"
The house was decadent. A huge sprawling mansion that stood out from all the other grand houses on the street.There she stood outside that huge sprawling house. Expensive, gleaming shopping bags in hand. A look of worry on her face as she held her phone to her ear. The phone’s green case made her all […]Read more "Microfiction: A house on Hollywood and West"