Tag: fiction

Black Cat Stories: hard to home and just as likely to honk in your shoe as purr in your faceLeave a comment

A very particular view

Suzanne Conboy-Hill

We thought they’d never get this far; that they’d self-destruct or get bored. Or just take long weekends to go shopping in Wal-Mart or Ikea and leave the ‘where do we come from’ pile of shit alone. I mean, we gave them enough scripts, and plays, and performances, and fables to keep them occupied. Or so we thought. The heretics, smug bastards, have been banging on forever about how, all the time we were busy putting together some flat-out awesome scene, like the aurora borealis for instance, they were niggling away at the cosmic onion and peeling bits of it … Continue reading A very particular view

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Black Cat Stories: hard to home and just as likely to honk in your shoe as purr in your faceLeave a comment

The Handover

Suzanne Conboy-Hill

‘I don’t have time for you to die,’ Sarah grunted, delivering a hefty thwack to the chest of the man with the grey face and bluish lips. She called out to the room, ‘Action stations: fluids, paddles, let’s go everyone.’ The new SHO bounded over; a leggy youngster with arms like string, he seemed to be everywhere at once connecting things, inserting things, extracting samples. In short order, the monitor beeped and a green light hopped encouragingly across the screen. Sarah relaxed, surveying the aftermath of the resuscitation which her SHO and one of the nurses were already clearing up. … Continue reading The Handover

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Black Cat Stories: hard to home and just as likely to honk in your shoe as purr in your faceLeave a comment

Sydney’s Solution

Suzanne Conboy-Hill

  Sydney leaned back on the door of his converted garage and shook his head. The thudding and hammering from within was beginning to irritate him but it was in a good cause because it would be short-lived, and it would put an end to the screeching and whining noises he had tolerated in this house for as long as he could remember. He had thought about it carefully: some solutions were fast and furious; like race horses or dogs, they were out of the starting gate and galloping away full pelt to the finish line with no time to … Continue reading Sydney’s Solution

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Black Cat Stories: hard to home and just as likely to honk in your shoe as purr in your faceLeave a comment

Trivial Frustration

Suzanne Conboy-Hill

Punch the keys Mis-hit – crap! Back three spaces Screen freezes * Ctrl Alt Delete, feet tapping Impatience, password matches We’re in! * Office, clipboard, Internet Explorer (Version 9) So very slowly creeping back * How many open windows? Don’t you know That will screw it? Urgent update to send In 140 characters ©suzanne conboy-hill 2010 You may share but not sell, alter, substantially extract, or claim as your own. Continue reading Trivial Frustration

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Black Cat Stories: hard to home and just as likely to honk in your shoe as purr in your faceLeave a comment

Tick Tock

Suzanne Conboy-Hill

Piers is standing alone in a hotel room with a clock in his head which is about to go off. He is waiting for Dylis because he needs a few moments of her sunshine, the way it used to be back in the day, before he gives her the envelope that he will make her promise not to open until she gets home. She will giggle and pretend to rip it apart to get at the contents and he will fix that image in his mind. The last time he saw her though, before the clock when ‘forever’ was another … Continue reading Tick Tock

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Black Cat Stories: hard to home and just as likely to honk in your shoe as purr in your faceLeave a comment

If it ain’t broke …

Suzanne Conboy-Hill

If it ain’t broke … Robert cast a functional eye over the stranger in the art room. ‘You got my lunch?’ he asked, not bothering with formalities. ‘No,’ said the stranger, ‘But I’ve got an offer.’ He was tall-ish, broad-ish and, Robert thought, social worker-ish. He was also artificial-ish but that passed Robert by for now. ‘My name is Artem and I’m from …’ ‘An offer?’ Robert recognised the word but its meaning escaped him; and anyway he was hungry. You could starve here, he thought, and social workers would just fill in another buggersome form. Robert rolled buggersome around in his … Continue reading If it ain’t broke …

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Truth to power2 Comments

Fat Mo and the men who make stories like this necessary

Suzanne Conboy-Hill

I had been writing Fat Mo for a while. Quite a lot of it went through the Lancaster MA critique system and became part of my portfolio. But I was never ready to publish it either as a standalone short story or as part of a collection of similar pieces. The time was not right; the collection was too hotch-potch; there was no obvious market. Then Weinstein happened. #MeToo happened. Women were suddenly saying out loud what so very many of us knew to be true – that getting on in the world meant getting on with men and doing … Continue reading Fat Mo and the men who make stories like this necessary

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Audio, poetry5 Comments

Unlocked: final three audio tracks from Let Me Tell You A Story

Suzanne Conboy-Hill

So go on, let us do that – we’re ready and waiting. ‘Terminus‘; descent into a room of sly eyes. ‘Puddles Like Pillows’. When gravity stops holding things down & litter fills the skies. Phillippa Yaa de Villiers exceptional poem, ‘Origin’.  From Let Me Tell You a Story available from Amazon. Continue reading Unlocked: final three audio tracks from Let Me Tell You A Story

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short story6 Comments

‘Drop Dead Gorgeous’ – a Halloween(ish) tale of a ghostly (maybe) gran

Suzanne Conboy-Hill

Drop Dead Gorgeous – a Halloween(ish) tale of ghosts (maybe) and quantum phasing (your guess is as good as mine). Bit sweary so don’t let the kids loose. I first met Dillon when my dead Gran tripped me up in front of him. There was me, meandering along the sea front watching small dogs on extending leads crochet themselves into yapping compounds each time they encountered others of their ilk; and there was he, arrowing through them, the sleek lycra-ed warp to their woof. I was ok but he landed up in hospital with several broken bones and his bike … Continue reading ‘Drop Dead Gorgeous’ – a Halloween(ish) tale of a ghostly (maybe) gran

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