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 inContinue reading “100-Word Fiction: ‘August’s End’”
Tag Archives: coldest
100-Word Fiction: ‘A Cold Spring: Part 4’
Oh this spring has been ruinous. These reflections, thoughts! And then heating up yesterday’s leftovers of stew, listening to some millionaire on the radio, distracted by the garden’s bare earth and stunted buds. I got a text from friends on holiday earlier: the sun had come out and they had gone swimming. Here there areContinue reading “100-Word Fiction: ‘A Cold Spring: Part 4’”
MW Bewick 