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Go shoppingNon-themed short fiction (#TuesdayTales) not more than 4,000 words. Works translated into English also welcome. A new short story delivered to you every Tuesday.
… it is a story Mummy likes to tell again and again, and I think she will continue to tell it till time itself comes to an end.
A hand on my shoulder brought it to an end. Mr Barnes, looked down at me with that hangdog expression, his face grey and jowly.
The heady fermented smell of guava filled the room as Amalia’s mother turned off the blender, tasted the peachy-pink mixture, and added more sugar.
The orbital Care Home careens towards that great burning ball of hot that two-thirds of respondents associate with the words ‘holiday’ and ‘relax’.
The cafe owner handed over a slip of paper with all the names of the good spots, just like he promised me.
This year, for my partner’s birthday, I wanted to do something really special. We both love animals, so I knew it would have something to do with that, for starters.
After sending the meeting request, the crux of which read, “I want to work part-time,” Miller, at first, felt regret. How could he have been so impulsive?
They started rebuilding the sewers the week I left Belfast. Now they were fully underway the smell overpowered everything.
The gods told men; ‘dance and we shall observe’.
The first time I climbed the pole my father beat me. I was eight.
I liked the concealed spaces best. Dark recesses behind the screen, the projection booth, the stale air of the poster store. These parts felt more authentic.
