100-Word Fiction: ‘Plenty’

Trains backing up into Surrey and the onslaught of the crush at the barriers.

A roadside reek of last night’s piss and the morning’s nicotine and bleach.

A man laughs into his hand.

A woman switches to flats.

The freesheets are a coconut shy.

Two shots please. I like my coffee very strong.

I couldn’t sleep because of our stupid neighbour upstairs playing music and crashing around at four in the morning.

Did you eat there? It’s amazing.

I am booked up pretty much all day, back to back. Sorry.

A notebook on a desk.

The words: ‘Dream of plenty.’

100-Word Fiction: ‘Curfews’

What are we
If the oncoming silences
Sweep in early to
Mute us even now?
And what if the stories we float
Are jetsam for the tide?
What prospect is a journey
When we cannot believe it ourselves?
And where do we get
If all the yards of days
Are dismantled by dusk
To bridge the way back home?

[The sounding of the curlew curfew / (This, always the sign) / Finds the search for meaning ended / Now friends only nod in hasty greetings / Fleet and hassled, as lovers depart / Less longingly, more slingshot / Into the frozen yawning dawn / Of our numbed tomorrows.]

100-Word Fiction: ‘A Conversation’

Old: We’ve never had any problems previously.

Young: Oh you’ve had problems?

Old: We’ve not done.

Young: You’ve not done anything?

Old: It’s not happened before.

Young: No, if that’s the case then something needs to be done.

Old: You want to do something?

Young: What could we do?

Old: If we are okay…

Young: You think you are okay?

Old: Are we not?

Young: No, we are not.

Old: Is this new?

Young: I don’t know. Has it happened before?

Old: I hadn’t noticed.

Young: But if you didn’t notice…

Old: I wouldn’t know.

Young: No you wouldn’t know.