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”
Tag Archives: short story
Gibbons Guitar Tone
Walk through town.Tall buildings casting shadowunder the winter sun. Traffic queues up.Someone’s got the window down,making a phone call,and you can hear them half way up the streettelling someonethey need to get creamfor those haemorrhoids. Few folk laughing. Walk past the pub.Looks like a good crowd in.The band is cranking outSharp Dressed Man. I’m eitherContinue reading “Gibbons Guitar Tone”
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”
Three Cats
The rain cleared and the three cats lay sleeping in the sun. They had found some shelter behind the wall, away from the cool breeze blowing from the Atlantic. The boy sat amongst them and sneezed. The ginger cat lifted his head. Opened his eyes. And immediately went back to sleep. While the black catContinue reading “Three Cats”
The Match
This is Chapter 8 from my story “Burn”, one of my favourites. I walk back towards the ground. Under the bridge and there is the waste ground where The Craigie used to be. It was up there with Eddie’s as the best bar in town. Now it’s one of those modern flat blocks and someContinue reading “The Match”
Paul Andrew Sneddon 