I always wanted to be a goddess. I’d had a fairly traumatic childhood, which we don’t need to go into here, suffice to say that a book of Greek and Roman myths was very influential in my teenage years. What resonated with me was the worship. The greats – Athena, Demeter, Persephone – they only… Continue reading The Seven Habits of a Highly Successful Goddess
Tag: microstories
The Trifle
On the dresser in my mum and dad’s kitchen is a trifle dish. It’s made of thick, pressed glass with geometric patterns cut deeply into its sides. It has a thick stem which elevates its contents to four inches above anything else that might be on the table. It is accompanied by eight mini-versions of… Continue reading The Trifle
The Antimacassars
Her See when he’s deid? The first thing I’m gonnae dae is get rid o’ they bloody antimacassars. I cannot stand them, and I cannot stand the way I huv tae give houseroom to stupid wee bits o cloth just because o his greasy flakey heid. It was bad enough when he actually had hair… Continue reading The Antimacassars
The McGuffin Moment
Advent microstories: day 9 The prince sat nervously on the horse’s back, waving shyly at the throngs of people lining the streets. There was cheering and dancing and embracing, and the prince thought he’d never seen such joy in his life. He felt quite self-conscious of his singed hose and torn doublet, and he was… Continue reading The McGuffin Moment
Do The Right Thing
Advent microstories: day 8 One rainy afternoon, our dad pulled up outside our house in a chauffeur driven car and took us off to work with him. I remember it was a silver car, but my brother Richie, two years younger and five at the time, is still convinced it was red. It was ages… Continue reading Do The Right Thing
MY BRIEF ROMANCE WITH THE IMAGINARY SEBASTIAN FIELDS
Advent microstories: day 7 I can’t remember a time when I didn’t think of men as ‘other’. To me, men are perpetually unknown, something always and forever not understood. I have never expected to know what makes a man tick. As a result, my expectations of men are that they will either be captivating, full… Continue reading MY BRIEF ROMANCE WITH THE IMAGINARY SEBASTIAN FIELDS
BY THE YARD
Advent microstories: day 4 I turn the brass handle and open the old wooden door. A little bell tinkles. It smells of old wood and leather, sturdy and comforting. A glass topped counter runs the length of the shop and behind it are wooden drawers, from floor to ceiling. Under the counter are long rolls… Continue reading BY THE YARD
THE KILT COMPLEX
An advent of microstories: day 3 Can I buy you a drink? White wine, is it? I’m sure we’ve met before, you know. Were you at Jenny and Tim’s wedding last year? And Eddie and Suze’s nuptial extravaganza a few weeks ago? Yes yes, I thought as much. You have very distinctive eyes, they’re really… Continue reading THE KILT COMPLEX
THE GARGOYLE WATCHER
An advent of microstories: day 2 I watch the gargoyles. I study them for any traces of movement, any change in their demonic expressions or aggressive postures. There are four of them on the church and I know them very well. I have been a gargoyle watcher for six months now. When I watch them… Continue reading THE GARGOYLE WATCHER
Tea is my typewriter 