100-Word Fiction: ‘Like Pollen’

Cow parsley, she calls it. Hollow green stems rising out above lush green grass. I had always known it as Queen Anne’s Lace. White caps of tiny flowers like little parasols, umbrellas.

The May rains have come and gone.

We take the dogs out down the lanes. They know the hawthorn and the giant rhubarb near the river: smell it all. They know every stretch of our routes – but not as well as she knows them. She is hiding something beyond the obvious. She squints at blossom, nettles in flower.

Something is buried: a secret like pollen in the air.

100-Word Fiction: ‘Goldilocks’

On account of his hair, they called him Goldilocks. He did like porridge too and sometimes had it for breakfast, sat at his desk, checking his emails. He worked quietly, slotting CDs into the disk drive and humming along to songs by Lady Gaga – his favourite! It took his mind off the wretchedness of his existence. He believed his position was hypocritical and hated the duplicity of his bosses who were always absent or in secret meetings. He did his own work, with data. It was a key to a world that no one knew. But they would, very soon.