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: short fiction
Cohen
The seats were rough with a few frayed covers. There were empty bottles all over the floor.I turned the music up on my phone. I was out here in the middle of the night. The flat was too big, and the bed empty. The movement helped. The other passengers like ghosts in the windows. TheContinue reading “Cohen”
Commit or Fuck Off
Sometimes you just start writing a sentence and follow it to where it goes, and more often than not it goes someplace you didn’t expect or weren’t ready for, and sometimes it just kills a few minutes of dead air, like on the radio where the guest hasn’t turned up, or they’re a bit nervousContinue reading “Commit or Fuck Off”
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”
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 