Stories
By michscor
Short Stories
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- 848 reads
Daffodils
We lived in a cul-de-sac. A modern 1960s-built sort of square dead-end. Our house was embedded within the square or rectangle of houses which sat around a central patch of grass.
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- 1470 reads
A Yule-Tide Spirit
It was just as Clare was receiving her cheese sandwich from the waitress that two women approached their table; they carried numerous bags and hard weary faces and trailed an unmistakeable aura of pov
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- 1090 reads
Apple Pie Mum
Clare struck the heavy painted knocker and regretted the mute black and white plastic bell which unfailingly irked her; it sullied the door and besmirched its two-up two-down Victorian heritage.
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- 763 reads
Dolls' Packing
Every year my family and I went camping, invariably to Cornwall or Devon.
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Oysters for Supper
It all started with the wearing of my blue velvet rather than my green muslin.
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Nodding With Cherries
Marjorie Wallace, thirty-nine-year-old librarian, enjoyed a certain fillip to her weekly walk to the writers’ circle.
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Like Gold to Ayery Thinnesse Beate...
Is it possible that the aura and spirit and very essence of a person are somehow revealed in death?
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- 1879 reads