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.
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.
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.
