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”
Tag Archives: short fiction
Drive Home
One Some days she loves me. Some days she hates me. And some days she can’t make up her mind.I don’t blame her,I understand. Nobody is perfect. Least of all me. So I get up. Get dressed. Shirt and tie. Aftershave.Paracetamol.I go to work. The dealership on the corner. Clock in.Clock out. “I’m buying.” “I’mContinue reading “Drive Home”
Big Empty
Doug tore at the guitar string. His fingers were shredded, the guitar fed back. Louder and louder till it was ringing in his ears. He looked at the notebook. Big Empty. He grabbed a glass and knocked back the drink. He was nearly sick as he picked up the bottle and threw it against theContinue reading “Big Empty”
Paul Andrew Sneddon 