Sitting in the back booth, the smell of coffee rolling through the place.I’ve been here for a while. In the silence.The jukebox is playing softly, the piano has been drinking, not me.Do they have jukeboxes anymore? Is this a dream?Suddenly a figure appears. Haunted, hands bloody. Checking its watch.“Times short.”Then he’s gone.I hear a soundContinue reading “Ashtrays and Sunlight”
Tag Archives: fiction
Only Coffee Shop in Town
This is the only coffee shop in townThat’ll give me dog something to eat.He sits stretching in the sun,Looking for stomach rubs and treats. After a walk in the park,Chasing pigeons, chasing me.Barking at the squirrel,Who’s hiding up the tree. He sees the best in everything,Every person, every soul.He’ll slether your face in a second,AllContinue reading “Only Coffee Shop in Town”
Shelter From the Storm (and the bins) or Bin-nado
It went from a yellow alert to an amber alert to a red alert. Danger to life. A little too quickly. The fearless one is away to work. Healthcare. You don’t really have a choice. I’m sitting here and the wind is howling down the chimney. I hear a crash and a bash. Pulling backContinue reading “Shelter From the Storm (and the bins) or Bin-nado”
We Are Made of Stars
I saw my breath in front of me, laying in bed this morning. The temperature barely made it above zero today. The rooftops are frosty, cars are frozen up and the pavement is like an ice rink. I saw a couple of folk struggling into town. Slipping and sliding like some pro level slapstick comediansContinue reading “We Are Made of Stars”
The Bridge
** Contains strong language and themes of mortality and violence. ** Section 1 It started here, on this bridge. A December day with the temperature falling. Away from the crowds, the shoppers, the revellers spilling out of the pub. The cold waters of the Kelvin running beneath me: timeless, endless. A police siren sounds asContinue reading “The Bridge”
Paul Andrew Sneddon 