Bellerophon
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My stories
Witchcraft In The Harem
On the plane, drinking a quarter-bottle of white, I retrieved my address book from my crocodile bag, tore out a page at a time, and turned each one into a snowflake with a few painless tears. The man sitting next to me, tall with a clean suit and pale skin, brushed away the white shreds that fell on his lap with the back of his hand, and I resolved to be more like him. He didn't look anywhere but straight ahead.
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- 832 reads
Just Left of Leaving
'What are we arguing about?' Sam turned off the radio for the third time and left his hand on the black plastic dial. He glanced over to the passenger seat, and his son's expression. The mouth was a straight red line, the chin poking out, breaking the fluid curve of his neck to his Adam's Apple. 'Look at the road,' Liam said.
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- 650 reads
Jelly Park
It was the late night that did it, playing Portishead records with a bottle of Jack D and a packet of black Sobranies for company. By twelve o'clock I was singing, 'Nobody loves me¦' in a hoarse growl. By two I was attempting to play solo Twister to prove that friends are just not necessary in life. By three thirty I had stolen the pot plant from outside flat six and chucked it out of my top floor window. I've had enough of decorative frippery for one lifetime.
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- 962 reads
Ducklings
A dirty cardboard box was standing next to the Aga. Sam dumped his rucksack on the floorboards and peered inside.
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- 876 reads