Short Fiction: The Survivor

Six years in prison had changed Ray Stencil. For one thing, he had grown a moustache. (One does what one must to survive in jail.) Now, released back into society, he felt like a fish out of water, or a small fish in a big pond, or a lonely grouper swimming among sharks. Perhaps the... Continue Reading →

Short Fiction: Flashback

“Huh... I never noticed that before. See up ahead where the river makes a sharp bend? There’s a hill up on that bank, covered with trees. See it? I’ve seen it before… only not here. The Mekong. Just like that—the river bend, the trees. A hundred clicks north of Nha Tau. It’s funny the things... Continue Reading →

Short Fiction: Return to Civilian Life

Leaving the army was hard on Omar Spyfe. He was a decorated soldier, but had got into some trouble after it was discovered he was making his own decorations—out of Roll-Ups. His commanding officer became suspicious when he spied Omar taking a bite of his Victoria Cross. Normally this would not merit a dishonourable discharge,... Continue Reading →

Short Fiction: Visiting Mum

“New earrings? I don’t know why you keep buying those—it’s not like she’ll wear them.” “That’s not the point.” “At least get second hand ones. She’s not going to notice the difference, and you’d save yourself some money.” “Will you lay off? She put new earrings on the list, so I’m giving her new earrings.”... Continue Reading →

Short Fiction: The Gatecrasher

Before leaving the house for his mission—top priority, straight from the president—Paul stood in front of the mirror and studied his appearance. Visually, this was a useless exercise: it was a shaving mirror, and he had to stand on the other side of the room to fit in his entire reflection. He had no idea... Continue Reading →

Short Fiction: The Old Fig Tree

Ron trundled up the hill. The long, lush grass swayed and rippled in the breeze, while the late afternoon sun draped its red glow on the giant fig tree. Down below, the village lay still and content. Ron sat down, wheezed and heaved up a large pearl of phlegm that landed on his shoe. He... Continue Reading →

Short Fiction: The Vigilante

Through the dried spots of water and shaving cream on the bathroom mirror, an uninspiring reflection stared. Grey wisps clung feebly to a brow once adorned with flowing black locks, while the complexion and features, which years ago would have rivaled those of a Greek god, now bore more likeness to a Galapagos tortoise. How... Continue Reading →

Short Fiction: A Sad Day in Parliament

A crowd of reporters swarmed the offices of Barney Whitsunday, who fifteen minutes earlier had resigned as a member of parliament. Barney looked through the shutters of his window (he had, when particularly stressed, the ability to see through solid objects). “Vultures,” he growled. “They all but ignore me through thirty-two years of service, now... Continue Reading →

Short Fiction: Last Meal

He slid into the diner booth and stretched his aching legs beneath the table. If the floor were cleaner he would have kicked off his shoes. Outside the window the world was grey: sky, rain and misty highway. It was peaceful. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, massaging the back of his neck. The... Continue Reading →

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