Calvin had spent a year planning his final meal. Every element had been carefully plotted. Each dish was selected to be delicious. Every mouthful was intended to be decadent. The quality of every ingredient was assured, and co-ordination of the wines was thoughtful and imaginative. The table linen was pristine, the cutlery a joy to… Continue reading The Man Who Ate Himself to Death
Tag: Short story
Maiden Aunt
I phoned Cousin Alec last night to ask why he hadn’t come up to see me. He told me that his Cathy had been up last week and so she’d told me all his news, but really? I mean, Cathy’s a nice enough lassie, and she brought thon big box of biscuits with her, nice… Continue reading Maiden Aunt
Wishing On A Teapot
Ashley Wishart threw open the door to her dressing room, and in a few long, flouncing strides, extravagantly flung her lean frame onto the old threadbare sofa. There was a squeaking of springs and a cloud of dust. Ashley waited. She looked to the still-open door. When nobody appeared, she walked back and stuck her… Continue reading Wishing On A Teapot
The One That Got Away
You find yourself thinking about him more and more. It used to be occasional, when you were feeling blue or restless or discontent. But now your thoughts settle on him regularly. What would have happened if you’d kissed him? You did want to – well, you had been curious but not quite into him enough,… Continue reading The One That Got Away
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
Story: Blood is Thinner Than Marmalade
Nobody sees me coming home. I’m extremely good at not being seen. I am well practiced at making myself small and almost invisible. It’s not difficult because my journey home is usually empty and predictable, making my way back to my family who have no idea about me, who don’t understand me. When I was… Continue reading Story: Blood is Thinner Than Marmalade
Tea is my typewriter 