100-Word Fiction: ‘Please Help Us’

From the sand. From the swiping of palms on commuter runs. From the tossed-off free-sheets. From the grinding trucks on dirt tracks. From the furnace hulls and eyes and mouths of salt. From the white hunchbacked desks. From the discounted cocktails and vapid pavements. From the tortuous late-night news-talk. From the canvas cells with tornContinue reading “100-Word Fiction: ‘Please Help Us’”

100-Word Fiction: ‘The Cottage’

Can you see it? asked James. Corrina was squinting into the May sunlight. It was somewhere over there but I can’t make it out exactly. But the cottage was around here? Here? Somewhere over there, near the horizon, past the trees, where it’s all blue with the distance and haze. We could drive around theContinue reading “100-Word Fiction: ‘The Cottage’”

100-Word Fiction: ‘Clouded Out’

A broad-brimmed black felt hat lies on the tracks below the bridge that crosses the railway line on Shoreditch High Street. They sip sweet creamy coffee, shuffle and talk of failed interviews and jobs that didn’t work out. A man by the Tube shouts ‘Freedom out!’ or perhaps ‘Free Time Out!’ They add a pre-meetingContinue reading “100-Word Fiction: ‘Clouded Out’”

100-Word Fiction: ‘Thomas Piketty Sells Out’

On the bookshop’s basement computer A deleted message relates That Thomas Piketty has sold out. The email from the book’s printer Suggests a second run is required – But the price of paper shows a long upward trend. Customers leave empty-handed. Along the city’s cigarette streets Workers stroke their palms And bud their ears inContinue reading “100-Word Fiction: ‘Thomas Piketty Sells Out’”

100-Word Fiction: ‘720 Sentences’

07:20 is the time he leaves the house, pulls on his coat, blows a kiss, says goodbye, gets embraced, steps onto the concrete, breathes the air, checks his pockets, flicks his hair, buttons his coat, checks his phone, walks down the street for the last time. 07:20 is the time she closes the door, waitsContinue reading “100-Word Fiction: ‘720 Sentences’”

100-Word Fiction: ‘Fashion’

Christ but there’s too many flags about, he said, sittin back down and slidin three pints across the table. Too much wavin from balconies, fly-pasts and old codgers grumblin bout the way they suffered. Christ, I mean. He sniffed. Look at you man, the guy’s friend said, sweepin his fringe from his eyes. I meanContinue reading “100-Word Fiction: ‘Fashion’”