other

I've tried writing everything. Anything that would catch attention. Nothing did... it would begin with some beautiful piece of writing, all these glowing metaphors that meant nothing to me or the people reading it. So how can people love something that means nothing? They can't, so that's why I'm writing this. It might not mean anything to you, but at least it means something to me. At least something comes of it. Maybe it's a stupid something, but to be brutally honest, I couldn't care less.

He sits alone at the bar when a physically attractive woman sits uncomfortably close to him.

Just a hopefully light-hearted idea I had!

solitaire

books you don't want to catch your 'better half' reading!

I have stale pieces of bread I can offer as terms of repayment and yesterday I found a half-eaten rodent of some size

"Why don't you call round and see me?"

Am I the only person in the world who prefers to have his toilet rolls served over-arm, rather than under-arm?

The Sinead in this short bit of fiction is not a singer!

"Sorry mate, I didn't catch that,
"I said I fell in love with the virgin girl, Gareth proclaimed excitedly!
Laughing, Joe replied "I thought you said you fell in love with the virgin airtime balance announcement girl!

"How can you be in love with me? I bet you don't even know the colour of my eyes."

This short story is about having conflicting thoughts with yourself. I hope it's a funny read!

another night in

...and then you hear the familar voice but you can't place the face. watching from the kitchen through the door crack time after time you can never stop just for a minute and when things get good you shy away, too much excitement for one day could start the whole week off bad.

[...]five o seven? take your mind out of the way, it's casuing too much static - don't think just be, that's the old maxim isn't it? [...] intermingled with adverts for expensive cars and cheap perfume, there's something odd in that. emotion that burns bright and then disapears withuot a second glance[...]

Short bit of fiction.

I got this idea from noticing a couple of typos in other people's work-related documents (which sounds boring, but it's meant to be humorous!).

"The heat of the lights is causing precipitation to bubble to my skins surface. The force of the beet throbs along the floor from the speakers. It vibrates up my legs causing them to tremble aside from my nerves. As I open my eyes I start to embrace the sound and as I take in the crowd before me, I catch my link and burst into my track¦.

Part humour, part pain.

But how do she choose which paths to paruse. Whichever
tricks or fashions take her fancy but windy they are when we're lost we feel so far from the point which hindges the bits of fragmented thought which alone feels uncaught
from the rest of the head.