I open my eyes

In Stories

I open my eyes. The ceiling is covered in cork tiles that appear to have been there for a while. A dried up water stain…

Under the brick – short story

In Stories

The following extract comes from the last few entries of a diary I found under a brick at 23 Victoria Grove. We had just moved…

A funny thing happened

In Stories

“I don’t know,” she said to the young male shop assistant who was offering to supersize her drink. “I don’t really want twice as much.…

Monkey wife

In Stories

I am a man who likes order and routine and I keep to one every day. I arise at 6.00am, toilet, have two large glasses…

My father’s lollies

In Childhood, Stories

1. My Father was a great gardener. He could make vegetables sprout from the most unaccommodating soil. The aroma of fertiliser (just a nice name…

I am the invisible man

In Stories

I am the invisible man. I have been invisible all my life. I walk past cars and they don’t notice me. Tall buildings that stand…

A pocket pebble

In Blogatory, Stories

I have a small, bronze coloured stone. It’s really a pebble, and it is the size and shape of a thimble that I have kept in my pocket for years.

William Jamison The Turd

In Stories

The year is 1939. A young boy follows his mother into a Doctor’s Surgery. She is carrying a small tin, the lid painstakingly illustrated with…