Tag Archives: flash

The Collector

Kevin was a collector.

It had started when he was 7. His friends had amassed an impressive stack of baseball cards and whilst Kevin wasn’t sporty, the thought of collecting excited him.

Not wanting to become a sheep, Kevin chose his own road. It was unusual to collect discarded cigarette butts, sure, but to Kevin, each held a unique story.

Perhaps it was this sort of behaviour that led to Kevin living alone (or perhaps it was the ferocious addiction to pickled onions?) but he didn’t mind. These days he prefers spending time with his collection of bottled sunshine anyway.


This piece is submitted as part of the Friday Fictioneers group writing. I hope you’ve enjoyed it. If you did, make sure you go read the other entries this week! Or click this link to read more of my silly stories.

in-the-light

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The wooly tale of Dennis Snugtop

Dennis Snugtop wore the snazziest knitwear known to man. He was never happier than when the days grew shorter and the air turned colder. Whether he was sporting a cardigan, tank top, sweater or scarf, Dennis could be spotted a mile off.

“There goes Dennis,” people would say to other people that were unfamiliar with persons dressed in bright coloured winter wool all year long. During December, January and February his fashion sense made everybody smile.

In June 2012, Dennis Snugtop was suspicious by his absence. He was later found dead, having drowned in a pool of his own sweat.


Thank you to everyone that commented last week, sending well wishes. They were most appreciated and apologies that I didn’t get to thank you all individually. I’ll do that next – and hopefully make time to come read all your stories that I missed due to job hunting!

This piece is submitted as part of the wonderful Friday Fictioneers. You can find all the information you need at Rochelle’s blog, where you’ll also find 100 new stories from other talented writers every week.

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Silenced

Ubinox was patient.
Ubinox was smart.
Ubinox was lithe, agile and keen.

High above the Grand Hall she waited; fingers and toes gripping the light fittings as she sank silently into nothingness.

Shadows stretched across the empty room as the wise old grandfather clock, standing as it always had by the ornate double doors, beat out a steady rhythm for them to dance.

Ubinox watched.
Ubinox waited.
Ubinox didn’t flinch, not even when the chimes signalled 8pm and the doors burst open with a surge of gay abandon and a chorus of cheers.

At 8.05 the cheers were silenced.


I have my doubts whether you’ll see what I see, but perhaps after reading and looking again you’ll find Ubinox lying in wait. This piece was written for Friday Fictioneers. 100 words per story, 100 stories per week.

hyde-hall-light

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Sam rests his case

“What a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive.”

Sam had often thought about the words his grandmother used to whisper to him, time and time again – often whilst he’d lay with his head upon her lap as she ran her frail fingers through his scraggly mop of blonde hair.

Many moons had passed since those prepubescent days. Business meetings had replaced after-school kick-abouts, glasses of wine usurped juice cartons and the train window had become his grandma’s lap. He wore his hair differently now; all heavily gelled and styled. She wouldn’t have approved.

The train tracks faltered and Sam’s head was displaced from the cold glass with a startling bump. He looked down at the pile of papers in his lap and began to build his next defence.


A piece inspired by the Monday Finish The Story Challenge. Click here to find out more!

2015-06-01-bw-beacham

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“Gah!”

“What is it?”
“What do you mean, ‘what is it?’ Don’t you like it?”
“It’s… well, I mean it’s, erm… it’s unusual.”
“You don’t like it.”
“No, no. No I mean, I didn’t say that. It’s just… different is all.”
“You hate it. I should have known.”
“I don’t hate it. But I don’t not not-like it.”
“This is just like Christmas ‘08 all over again.”
“What is?”
“This is.”
“Is it?”
“It is. God, this is so you.”
“Wait, what? It’s supposed to be me?”
“What is?”
“This!”
“Typical! Why do you always have to make everything about you?”

pleisiosaur_


Friday Fictioneers is hosted by the freshly published Rochelle. Join in the 100 word flash fiction fun or simply go read the other entries here.

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