100-Word Story: The Guy That’s Made of Ghost

The Guy That’s Made of Ghost

We shared a taxi once, you and me. Your kindness reminded me to breathe. I see you now, walking past my window; your skin so grey, clinging to your cheekbones like the last traces of flesh on a decaying skull.

I watch as you mouth silent words, imaginary conversations with people only you can see. I watch as you laugh at jokes that no one else hears. And I can’t help but wonder if there was ever a moment, all those years ago, when I could’ve still reached you. A moment before you became the guy that’s made of ghost.


50-Word Story: Daily Prompt – Rhythmic

Just the Wind

The rhythmic tapping of the tree branch against my bedroom window continues long after the wind has stopped. The tapping, the scratching, the whispering of the wind. The ceaseless, endless whispering. Maybe it really is just the wind. But sometimes – just sometimes – I think I hear it whispering my name.

Daily Prompt: Rhythmic


Short Story: Perfect White Teeth

Perfect White Teeth

It was the smallest of thuds, but it startled Julia from her sleep. She lay wide eyed, completely still in the darkness, holding her breath. The pounding of her heart seemed to rock the whole bed. She listened to the silence, waiting to hear the noise again. Nothing. Of course not, she must have been dreaming. She finally let her lungs release the air they had been holding and sank back down under the duvet, letting her body relax.


She jerked upright and froze in a sitting position. There was no mistaking it this time, it was definitely a noise, and it was definitely coming from downstairs. She pulled herself slowly, silently, to the edge of the bed and let her bare feet rest on the carpet.

Thud, thud.

Julia’s whole body jarred. She scanned the grey shapes surrounding her, trying to get her eyes used to the darkness, hoping to find some clue of what to do next. She had no idea if her legs would be able to hold her upright, but she knew that she wanted to be wearing more than just a t-shirt right now. She grabbed a pair of jeans from the pile of washing at the side of the bed, and stepped into them. Leaning against the chest of drawers she steadied her trembling legs, and crept over to the doorway. Continue reading

75-Word Story: That Thing

That thing, when you wake up in the middle of the night, and see a shadow that shouldn’t be there. You blink your eyes and then it’s gone. Just your mind playing tricks again. But you know, deep down, there are no tricks. He’s still there. He’s hiding in the other shadows. Watching your every move. You sense him in the darkness. You can almost hear his shallow breaths. He’s waiting until you fall sleep.


Flash Fiction: Early Retirement

Early Retirement

Bernie stared at the oil slick oozing across his plate. Anaemic chips and dried out chicken breast that looked like it should be hanging in a bird cage slid around in the greasy pool.

He looked up at his once-beautiful wife of 37 years, who now ate with her mouth open and kept her legs closed, and watched as she washed the inedible meal down with yet another bottle of cheap red wine.

He shifted his gaze across to his 26 year old daughter, who had systematically bled him dry and driven him to three heart attacks with her penchant for expensive shoes and cheap men.

Bernie looked back down at the grease-filled plate. He impaled three chips on his fork, swirled them around in the congealed oil and shovelled them into his mouth. With a bit of luck, the next heart attack would finish him off.