Sometimes I think about the days. I’ve already had more than some, and less than others. Some just ran away from me, whether I let them or not. The days I remember best are the ones I rose to meet. Making something from nothing. And I think about the other days. The ones where IContinue reading “Days”
Tag Archives: fiction
Out of Habit
Life is a firecracker sometimes, and sometimes it’s a little bar like this. This just suits me down to the ground. The Harbour Pub, it never stops surprising me just how many people it fits when it looks like someone’s front room. The library round the corner, quiet on a Tuesday afternoon. Get a bookContinue reading “Out of Habit”
May
A light bulb is burning out as the sun sets. Talking heads on the TV. Fuck off and give me peace. The window’s open but the air isn’t moving. The shadows stretching long across the floor. I can hear a train moving through the city, there and then gone. Who the fuck even watches TVContinue reading “May”
Mobile Home
The summer nights get cold here. Seems counterintuitive, but that’s just how it is. I spent the last of my retirement money on this mobile home. We’ll just drive around, sleep where we stop. We’ve been bumping around inside it like two feral cats, and it’s turning into a blood sport. I drink straight fromContinue reading “Mobile Home”
Sunday
The congregation filed out. Grey hairs and suits. Alex looked at the faces. Same faces every Sunday for fifty years. Look the same, but like they sat too near the fire and they melted just a little bit. A few faces missing. More than a few, but what can you do. That’s the way itContinue reading “Sunday”
Paul Andrew Sneddon 