I discovered all the words Donald Trump used in his inauguration speech that had never been used in an inauguration speech before, and mixed them up into this poem. flushdepletiontrapped trillionssprawl disrepairlandscape rippedrusted tunnel sprawlunrealised […]
Come for the flash fiction and short stories. Stay for the sense of wonder at deriving meaning from weird symbols on a screen
Author: Ben
I write flash fiction every day, while working on longer stuff that one day might help feed the kids. That's the plan anyway.
Fireflies
Sid’s eyes dart around the room searching for something to rest upon but he is grateful for her apology, at least for her self-awareness. His eyes land on a bug on her shoulder crawling towards her neck.
The Boy Had A Name
Everything is capable of being loved, he says.
The lady smiles.
Well I guess that’s true.
Her voice is barely a whisper.
Sid Thinks Of The Syrian Boy
Sid thinks about the Syrian boy a lot. Even now, even all these years later. Lying on his tummy, arms by his side, palms upturned to the sky. He looks asleep in his red top.
It’s time to go again
I’ve been away a while. It’s time to go again.
Here Comes the Sun
Mum died on December 21, 2018. Six months later, to the day, my wife boarded a plane bound for Abu Dhabi.
June Bug
Although they stood only five yards away from George, the pair of them were quite oblivious to his presence.
The Domestique
You use 40 percent less energy in the peloton. A life spent in the service of others.
Walking Home
She walks east. Tick tick tick tick, a woodpecker tapping at the side of her brain. Tick tick tick tick. Countless tiny brass squares of the city’s shame underfoot, unforgotten.
Muddled Messages
First up, an apology. I’ve been absent without leave, thanks largely to starting the novel. It’s consumed almost every thought and I haven’t been in a position to think about this place for a bit. […]
Ghouls
When darkness falls, wraps the world in confusion and unexplainable horror, when truth slips away and the real becomes incomprehensible, so the ghouls appear, blacker than the darkness they breathe, to feed on the misery […]
Flora’s Unspoken War
Flora Goodwin picks at the hole in the tablecloth on her kitchen table. There must be something she can do. Outside, six pigeons, two starlings, one crow, two swallows and a parakeet line up on […]
The Fear
Consumed by The Fear, the leaden knot in the pit of the stomach, the Charlie Brown raincloud lingering overhead.
A Quiet Corner Of The Map
I was a camper. Everyone hated me.
OMG NOOB CAMPER QUIT CAMPING U FAG.
Finding a quiet corner of the map – or a dark spot in a busy corner of the map -and picking off passers-by was, apparently, not cool.
Anton dreams of armchairs
Anton has had a good month. His energy consumption is down and his reputation capital has doubled after volunteering at the Sunnyside Nursing Home. Content, he relaxes into his fabricated Eichholtz Goldoni armchair, swipes off his retina display and shuts his eyes.
Taking Stock
Well, 108 days into this adventure, I thought I’d give an update on where I am, if only to collect my own thoughts and ensure I’m remaining focused.
I’ve had two lovely surprises over the last seven days.
Foxman (The Origin Story)
One day there is a dead fox in the road outside the school. It is all opened up, inside out.
The Escape
Jake removes his Bose headphones and stashes them in his rucksack as he turns into the estate. He needs every sense down this end of town where, lit by a full moon, giant concrete Tetris shapes litter the landscape, vomited up out of the ’60s architectural nightmare.
All There In Black And White
A farcical opening has me down a rook, two pawns and in check with the game 10 moves old. Only one way back.
‘Esther was asking after you this morning.’
As casual as you like. Don’t look up, let him soak in the information.
Luna Gets Played
Every morning the same: Ellis relearning how to get through Tiny Swing Door, pawing at it like Greg fumbling at the front door when he’s drunk and cuddles too hard.
Godspeed Brave Alfie Twitch
Alfie Twitch rubs his wrists, sore from the plastic ties that had him strapped to the chair. He watches as Jess eyes the painting above his desk. With flick-knife still in hand, she approaches the scene of London at night and cuts a St Paul’s-shaped hole out of the canvas.
The Gaps
Grandad, slumped in his tatty armchair, turns slowly to face me as I walk in with Mum.
‘Is that my favourite Grandson?’ he says, his voice thin.
‘It’s your only Grandson.’
Overton’s Window – Part Two
For once, the dog keeps quiet. The one time Percy is duty-bound to raise hell and he bottles it. Instead he sits, feet in perfect ballerina’s second position, next to the old woman’s cracked skull as it leaks blood onto the pavement.
Mitigating Circumstances
‘Truman, you can’t expect a crushed child on your watch to go without consequences.’
Derek Granger gulps down his Coke and burps.
‘People pay a lot of money to leave their kids here. It is supposed to be a safe environment, away from the Horde.
Searching for Self
The tube trundles woozily under the east end. Jonathan’s leg jiggles as he pours every thought into his phone screen, but the alcohol is making it difficult to focus.
What I See When I Look For You (Redux)
Too many other people,
not enough you,
in this museum,
lollygagging at my pregnant grief…
What I See When I Look For You
This time next week I will have submitted three poems – alongside a short story and a piece of drama – for the MA. I’ve been advised to be as bold with my poetry as […]
Boyd Finds His Peace
Ignored by his father, Boyd plays truant and walks, for days upon days, until he can walk the streets of Cape Town blindfolded. He walks through the city, out to Green Point, Mouille Point and Three Anchor Bay.
Sam’s Misplaced Bravado
Sam stares up at the giant letters above him, lit in neon. XLR8. He looks at the scrote who took his money, leaning back with a girl on his lap as he chews gum and waits for a man of about 60, with mutton-chop sideburns and tired, mean eyes, to pull down the safety bar.
