100-Word Fiction: ‘The Suffocating City’

Choking from the tree pollen and the blanket of smog that had blown in from across the sea and the dust that had risen from the roads after the fires of the previous week. The atmosphere was unbreathable. Slowly jogging through the drag of streets from west to east was a chore for the chest. The sky was cloudless, but all the towers and cranes in the distance took on a muddy, sepia colour. It was a sense of desaturation, a fading, that was at odds with the coarse, thick reality of the air. The town was suffocating under itself.

100-Word Fiction: ‘Jesus of Kingsway’

Jesus takes the rubbish out when the last customers leave the café at 5.45, nods to the lads on the street and goes back inside, brings down the shutters, exits by the back. Charlie and Isaiah are the first to the bags, carefully untying the orange plastic and reaching inside. Ricky and Mohammed look on, pointing and waiting their turn. It’s a good day. There is an armful of baguettes that can be shared round, a few tubs of salad, some milk and yoghurt. Each takes their share, the bags are retied – and the lads disappear into the cold night.