Fortnightly Fiction

It was 12:39 on Christmas Eve, and I was on my way to buy coffee number three, a pretence allowing me to chat with Agata, the attractive server, in the Wealdstone branch of Wenzel’s.  With her shoulder-length blonde hair and sardonic…

There’s something highly disconcerting I think (though I won’t go so far as to say disturbing) about entering the home of a close neighbour for the first time. One night, early on, just after teatime, circumstances required that I visit…

Is love a practice or a place?  And where does it go, when it comes?   "Paco came from the sea," she said.  It was all she had ever said. Long before the wind was captured.  Before a word was ever spoken.  Before darkness became…

A handful of lentils boil in water with a generous dash of turmeric to forget the taste of death coating the tongue. On good days, you add some chillies and garlic. Not today. As you drink it, you succumb to a raking cough. It’s a while…

Slump  Mister Bayliss, of Bristol, businessman, makes his way steadily down O’Connell Street, squinting into the low sun, eager for breakfast, the essential ingredient of any successful day. The portly gentleman could have taken a taxi…

The man opposite me relaxes into his call as the train leaves the station. I stare directly into his face, willing him to hang up. He acknowledges me by shifting his gaze to stare out the window, while his mockney accent booms around the…

Skin is stronger where it has ruptured. I tore during labour but didn’t feel the stitches—my body produced anaesthetic, a response to pain.  Now, there is a small, silvery scar. Like braille, you said, your fingers tracing, eyes on…

Denny Murphy sat firmly into his spot on the bench-seating that lined the Luas carriage and curled his head towards the glass of the window. He didn’t care that the tram was packed and that there were probably older people and women…

Ribs Shannen Malone They would not speak of it tomorrow. Lucy thought this as she walked to work in the morning, the shiny sound of her tights rubbing together at the thighs finding her ears. She picked at a loose flap of skin at the…

Syd His visage popping out the top of that sleeping bag. Whatche have der? Little beardy head on him. Thick fucking eyebrows. Thick fuck. Couldn’t have just accordioned that neck of his back into the sleeping bag and stayed quiet. It’s…