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.’
Come for the flash fiction and short stories. Stay for the sense of wonder at deriving meaning from weird symbols on a screen
Tag: cricket
The Duel
The reassuring aroma of freshly-cut grass and freshly-baked pies wafts across the ground. George watches on from square leg as the spinner stands at the end of his mark, tossing the ball from hand to hand, a reflex as natural as breathing, contemplating his next move.
The Old Umpire
So after the relative success of my villanelle last week (by relative success, I mean no one told me to burn my computer and kill myself), I’ve had a go at an ‘Italian’ sonnet.
Just Punch The Clock 