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Humorous application of the Aesop fable to modern writers.
Such a charming couple! Young, elegant, good conversationalists - but, of course, they never give the impression they are aware of it.
She’d so looked forward to her first Adult Education class for Memoire Writing and now she couldn’t get a single word down on paper.
Mystery in which a pawnbroker is offered an apparently unmissable job opportunity - only red-heads need apply.
Have Jeanna and Malcolm something more in common than a love of books?
There was a lot at stake. Too much to lose. They reckon we all have our price, and Algy knew mine.
- Length: 7 pages
- Age Rating: PG
- Genre: Humor
There’s all these picturesque poems, anecdotes about scattering loved
ones’ ashes. Things meant to be profound, symbolic.
You won't find me on any map either. I, too, have been buried, not by Tarmac and sand, but by time and indifference.
Laura used to wonder if all this planting of bodies would ever make anything grow. Then, one night, just as she finished a grave, she found it did.
I need air... I need to breathe, or I'll die...
Helena coughed uncontrollably, her chest felt like it was on fire, and she kept throwing up salty water.
Five years and Nolan had always been there. Five years and Dane always appeared nervous, as if it were a first date.
For Arabella, Christmas gifts were not judged on how expensive they were. They were an insight into how well I really knew and understood her.
We kept white feathers before exams or doctors’ appointments. Black feathers, of course, were warnings. We knew these to be facts, as empirical as science.
- Length: 18 pages
- Age Rating: PG
- Genre: Fiction
People aren't always what they seem.
How do you catch someone who is falling into their own mind?
A game of Scrabble has serious consequences.
“Go to Goldman’s Greenhouses. Joseph … will start you … at a buck sixty an hour.” His lungs empty of smoke, “Go talk to him. He’s your uncle. He’ll hire you.
A semi-barbaric king devises a semi-barabaric (but entirely fair) method of criminal trial involving two doors, a beautiful lady and a very hungry tiger.
Detective Inspector Dave Box entered the room: an elderly man sat motionless in a wheelchair in a blue dressing gown open at his pale chest, revealing sparse hairs and a plastic tube entering the bottom of his throat.
My mum is the undisputed tea-drinking heavyweight champion of the world… or at least the whole of South Lexington Avenue.
Shepherd's family made money by being outlaws. Well, outlaws in the governments' eyes.
Olly Rice had given his life to literature, but what had literature given him? A wound in the head that oozed something worse than blood or brain matter.
Dessie O'Connell was 6 feet 3, thick of bone, and naturally muscular. Unlike almost all of the actors with whom he'd first competed for parts, he hardly needed to work out in order to resemble a Hellenic god.
The spark of his life was fading, but his mind was still sharp, and his memories cocooned him.
"Damn thing," old Ernie muttered, glancing up from his laptop. He reached out to shut off the annoying noise but noticed the call was from his area. This was unusual.
