100-Word Fiction: ‘What I like About You’

I like you. I like you because you unnerve me sometimes with your unpredictability. I like you because when I consider your unpredictability I realise that you were unswerving, straight. It was me who hadn’t seen the pattern; hadn’t quite understood. I like that you know when to stand up and when to sit down; how you’re quick to speak and quick to stop speaking – how you speak clearly. I like that everyone thinks you’re the boss because you have that air, but that you always know your place. You are never the boss. Everyone is the boss. The people.

100-Word Fiction: ‘August’s End’

On the quay in a cagoule, with a north wind blowing in rain and echoing through the halyards of the Essex smacks. A cormorant headed up the estuary; the Roman River was full and the silent black-headed gulls bobbed on the choppy water. There was no one there, no one at the pub or in the café. The swallows were gone; the golden fields now steely stubble. She was trying to make a phone call for no particular purpose other than to keep in touch with someone. The signal was dead. There were times when something just needed to give.

100-Word Fiction: ‘A Complaint About the Building of Walls’

There is no good in a wall that only divides;
That only seeks to hinder and stop;
That only aims to split into sides;
That takes rupture and acts as a prop

There is no good in a wall that feigns to protect
While causing obstruction and hurt:
If it camouflages the onslaughts it’s supposed to deflect;
If it’s just a conduit for a hatred built in dirt

Walls provide refuge, but should they only rise
At the expense of freedom, progress and scope,
And cast only shadows, and help cement lies,
Then they leave only a barrier to hope