NORTH STAR ‘Come on, prezzie time.’ Stella’s mother slapped a hat on Stella’s head and held out a tube of sunblock, ‘You’ll need it to go outside.’ ‘I won’t because I’m not going outside.’ ‘Please, just stop grumping, see if … Continue reading North Star: a girl, an old friend, and a Christmas present
Christmas Chaos Clarice puffed out her cheeks, pink with the cold, and screwed up her eyes against the chill wind. She turned her face to the sky and peered through frosty lashes at the heavy clouds lumbering in from the … Continue reading Christmas Chaos: a little girl, a fairy, and a promise
Somehow, normal time – the sort that plods predictably slowly during tedious meetings and gallops along through anything enjoyable – ties itself in knots come November. October is October – sensible and operating within the rules, as is most of November. Too early to think of Christmas so I don’t. Next thing I know we’ve been through a wormhole and here we are heading down a temporal waterslide to the last posting day for second class and no chance of parking in town without a scrap. To add to the mayhem, I started a Fine Art degree in October and … Continue reading ‘Tis the season
I pulled him closer, my hands almost greedily devouring his body. I had to get this right. I had to make these darned things fit around the bulging muscles of his arms and, oh my, the bulging muscles in his thighs. I would think about his bulging manhood later, right now I had to concentrate like I’d never concentrated before. I pressed my lips together into a hard line and rolled my eyes. It was going to be hard, very hard – and that was a promise! I smothered a smirk. ‘Stand up, Greg,’ I ordered. It felt very nice … Continue reading Five Shades for Greg
They didn’t kill me, just made me wish they had, bastards. We were all there that day, lined up ringside waiting for the off. It was top billing and we were crackling with anticipation, the scent of victory already creeping up our noses and fuelling our self-belief. Our man was big. The biggest. I mean really big. So big their man couldn’t even reach him never mind hit him. So what, that it was barely a competition? All we cared about was winning. We had bets, we’d make a pile. We’d get the hell out of the gulags and away somewhere warm … Continue reading Last Man Standing
It was the day mum and me had just been to the big shop in town to get my senior school uniform and even the smell of it was thrilling. I couldn’t wait to wear the dark green winter skirt, scratchy or not; and the satchel – well that was glorious! All shiny leather with new, stiff straps and brass buckles. We hurried off down the high street towards the bus stop, mum putting her purse away and me thinking about the bubblegum in one pocket and the thirteenth birthday lipstick Gillian had given me in the other. What was … Continue reading Yesterday was the best day ever
Ollie was sitting on the sofa, watching TV, when he first noticed his hand disappear. He was about to scratch his nose when there it was. Or rather, there it wasn’t. Right up to his elbow, it wasn’t. Then, back it came, just as suddenly. It looked a bit electrical around the edges, but otherwise … Ollie held it up to his face, palm first, and spread out his fingers. All accounted for; although the end of his index finger had a slight glow to it, he thought. He pressed his palm up against his nose, and sniffed. Chocolate and … Continue reading Bad Apple
To Whom it May Concern You are not my son. I am not your father. You trod a path that is alien to me. We are not family. You took household commodities and fashioned out of them violent and indiscriminate death. No son of mine would do that. No son of your mother would do that. No son of any Lord that I know of or that I can imagine would do that. You are not my son, your mother’s son, our Lord God’s son, nor any son of this beautiful, wonderful humanity of which we are part. You are … Continue reading Letter to a child
‘Tick tock, tick tock’ ‘Gimme the keys, fucking moron!’ ‘…and as the Prime Minister’s car pulls away…’ ‘Tick’ ‘Gaffer tape, Jimmy’ ‘Gaffer tape’ ‘Jimmy. Moron’ ‘Telephone number 0767453. Tick’ ‘Pete’s place, Greenwich’ ‘Bertie likes his cheese! Clever Bertie!’ ‘ARMED POLICE! COME OUT, PUT YOUR HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM! COME OUT NOW!’ ‘Any sign of the hostages, Mike?’ ‘No, nothing. Just some bloody bird squawking about gaffer tape and Greenwich’ Continue reading Worth Repeating
Dr Suzanne Conboy-Hill 