100-Word Fiction: ‘Dialogue Q [Contemporary]’

Q:

I do feel unhappy, yes, although it shouldn’t be unexpected.

Q:

Maybe the darker mornings. And television, maybe.

Q:

Hell, and it’s not even over yet, there’s next week. Tis the season.

Q:

Well they’re setting us back years. The general polemic across all of them just appals me. I don’t know what’s to be done.

Q:

Don’t start me. It’s not opting out. I’m a full participating citizen. I couldn’t escape them if I wanted to. And I do want to.

Q:

I haven’t done for years. Is it any wonder? You’ve seen them. They’re all the same.

100-Word Fiction: ‘The Populist Trick’

In a pub, the winner of a popularity contest, as captured in a reporter’s photograph, balances an empty pint glass on his head and grins a rubbery wet slop of a grin. In the background, unwitting members of the public, alongside some of the man’s friends, are also grinning. Their mirth has been caused by an off-camera remark, now forgotten. The winner has taken a vow of silence. His agents say it is nothing tactical: let his plastic expression speak simply for itself. He has never said anything and never will. And silence will amplify silence, if he’s truly won.

100-Word Fiction: ‘WTF’

I was at breakfast, on the morning of Mike and Joe’s wedding – feeling happily smug that the world we live in ain’t like it used to be, no Sirree – when the news broke on the telly that a local councillor had claimed that the recent storms and floods were ‘divine retribution for the government’s decision to legalise gay marriage’. I was like WTF, really? Limp muesli spluttering. Cup of weak hotel coffee rattling. But outside, while snowdrops quivered in the breeze, the sun was already high in a crystal sky, the flea markets were busy, and someone was singing joyfully.