Category Archives: Fiction

Oswald

Oswald didn’t like when people noticed he was different. This was a shame for Oswald because it happened all of the time. Oswald only had one eye and it was smack in the middle of his face. His eye was just above his nose. And people couldn’t help but stare when ever they saw him.

He had tried to make friends but even the loser kids all shunned him. He had tried to get good at sports so the other kids would like him and pick him for their teams. But it was hard to practice for team games by yourself and Oswald’s depth perception had never been that good.

If he ever tried to be smart in class the other kids just hated him more. There didn’t seem to be anything poor Oswald could do.

Then one day Oswald was sitting in his English class. English was his favourite class. In fact English was everyone’s favourite class at his school because the English teacher was Miss Greg. Miss Greg was a very very attractive young women. At Oswald’s all boys school you just had to be female and have a pulse (pulse optional) to attract attention and yet Miss Greg was genuinely foxy. She was a tall, blonde, willowy and she had a slight eastern european accent that Oswald had never been able to place.

So it was English with Miss Greg. They were all paying minute attention to everything she was doing and saying. But despite paying that much attention they could hardly have noticed the draw string of Miss Greg’s dress getting inside the book she was reading to them. And that when she closed the book the string was inside the book. And that when she picked up the book the string was still inside the book. And that when she lifted the book above her head to make a point about something her dress became undone. Suddenly the boys could see everything. Miss Greg realised immediately what had happened, but was so surprised that she didn’t immediately cover herself. She just stood there – stunned.

Everyone was slient. Nobody was saying anything. And then Oswald said, “That’s a sight for sore eye”. And everyone laughed. Even Miss Greg (and then she quickly covered herself). That was the moment that Oswald realised it – if you could make people laugh then they would like you.

Scorching – Part 4

[This is the final part of the 4 part story Scorching. If you’re interested in that kind of thing then you may want to check out parts one, two and three before you read this.]

Steven put down his beer and turned himself over onto his back. He knew that he was supposed to towel off the sweat when you turn over. But he couldn’t be bothered today. Apparently it meant you got an uneven tan. But he couldn’t be bothered today. Today he didn’t have time for it, he was playing catch-up.

He’d had to spend all morning with the police telling them what had happened. He’d told them the truth. All of the truth. And they’d believed him. They had even understood why he hadn’t come straight to them. They too were men. They too had often thought, when they saw x x x that they would do anything to know her. He had had to spend the day, and the night with her. He made promise after promise to her while they ate, drank and made love. And yet there was no way he was not going to tell the police about the dead body in the master bedroom.

Steven turned slightly onto his side so that he could drink some more of his beer. The slightest breeze caught his chest and made a shiver run down his back. He was transported in his mind back to England. Cold rainy England. He didn’t want to go back there.

He wasn’t sure what to tell people. The real reason sounded like a laddish lie and so he thought about telling people that the reason he turned Gloria in was because he feared having to go back to England. That he feared being deported.

He thought it sounded better than the truth. That it sounded more reasonable than the reality. The real reason he had turned her in is that despite many attempts to improve things, almost all of the previous day and night had been spent trying. Gloria was singularly crap in bed.

Steven lay back down on the sun lounger and used the chair in exactly the way that the name suggested, he lounged in the sun.

He couldn’t shake one thought from his mind, “and people thought I was going to grow up”.

Cats Eyes

He stepped out into the rain and already his hat had begun to be soaked through. He turned back towards the door to lock it. While his hand was returning the key to his pocket it brushed against a packet of cigarettes. It was a difficult choice. He could light it here, but would it go soggy out in the rain. He had no choice, once his hand felt the pack he had to light one. The air was so damp the first two strikes of the match failed to take. He chuckled to himself as the third time lit true, with him it wasn’t three strikes and out.

He turned back out into the rain and that’s when he saw the cat. It was just sitting there staring back at him. A cat which probably would have looked cute sprawled on the grass in the sunshine, but tonight it looked back at him with those reflective eyes, it looked back at him and it seemed to know something. He wanted to just walk past it, but he froze just staring at it, staring at it staring at him.

The cat got off of his hind legs and started walking towards him. There was a fork in the path, the cat took it. Just as it was about to walk past on the other fork it turned and gave him one last look, and then it walked on.

He stepped forward and then stopped. Water actually sloshed off of his hat and onto his feet. He hadn’t meant to stop, not in the rain. But he found that he was suddenly unsure of himself. This deal was too important to miss, if he didn’t come through on the deal the consequences would be terrible. But somehow, something made him stop. Stop out there in the rain. He turned back, unlocked the door, and stepped back in. The cat had unnerved him.

Scorching – Part 3

[This is part 3 of the 4 part story Scorching. If you’re interested in that kind of thing then you may want to check out parts one and two before you read this. Or of course you may not.]

Steven didn’t know what to do. He turned around a few times hoping that by the time he turned back the guy would suddenly be alive. He decided to stop being silly and besides he was getting dizzy. So he stopped and looked properly. There didn’t seem to be anything obviously wrong with him other than the obviously uncomfortable angle in which he was lying and the fact that his eyes had rolled back in his head. It looked to Steven’s untrained eye like he’d had a heart attack. Well the sex had sounded pretty amazing. Just as he was trying to decide if that would be the way that he wanted to go he heard a noise on the stairs.

“Gloria, don’t come in here a second.”

The steps stopped coming for a second and then they started again. “Steven?”
She walked round the corner, saw what had happened and then fell on the floor. She looked back up at Steven from all fours. Steven suddenly realised she’d gone into a kind of attack style crouch.

“What,” she snarled, “did you do to him”?

“Nothing. I was going to ask you the same question. He must have died just after you left the room.”

“Oh,” she said looking instantly more relaxed, “really”?

“Of course. Why would I want to kill him anyway? I don’t even know who he is.”

“Yes but maybe you thought you would have to kill him to sleep with me?”

“I don’t think so. I’m sorry, you’re lovely and everything but to kill for? Well possibly, but I’m not sure this guy was ever going to find out about us. That certainly wasn’t my plan.”

“What shall we do? Hide the body?”

“Why? We didn’t do anything. We should just phone the police, explain what happened and everything will be fine. I promise.”

“No we can’t phone the police. We can’t.”

“But,” said Steven, “if we just tell them the truth then nothing will go wrong, nobody did anything.”

“No,” she said, “I think I might have killed him.”

“You can’t have.”

“No, I think I did.”

“But you’ll go to prison.”

“I can’t I can’t.”

“But I can’t lie to the police.”

“You have to, you must. I… I… I’ll sleep with you if you will.”

That was Steven’s dilemma. He knew that she was the woman, out of all of the women that he’d ever met in his life that he most wanted to sleep with. She was the one. She was so beautiful. So young, fresh and pure – or at least she seemed that way. He thought to himself, I don’t care if she she’s killed somebody. Why should I care – he thought. And then he thought about himself, he thought about himself, and decided that this was certainly a risky situation.

[Will Steven sleep with her, or will he report her to the police? Let me know and I’ll write it! Or at the very least tune in next Friday for the hopefully dramatic conclusion.]

Pigeon versus Cat

Little dead pigeon lying on the ground,
Little dead pigeon while walking I have found,
I can’t help feeling that we shouldn’t be meeting,
Because even on a little pigeon there’s some good eating,
So why are you left abandoned by a cat?
What can I say except cats are like that.
Barstards

Scorching – Part 2

[This is part 2 of the 4 part story Scorching. If you haven't you may want to read part one first. I would usually include a link at this point but I'm sending this from a train somewhere in Sussex. Part 1 was published last Friday, you should be able to find it somewhere.]

Steven blinked his eyes open and closed, and open and then closed again. He couldn't tell the difference. It was really dark. Dark and quiet. It was so quiet that Steven could hear his eyelids opening and closing. Forget pins dropping it had to be really quiet before you could hear stuff like that.

Steven had been lying on his left arm for quite a while. First it had fallen asleep, then it had done that gentle tickleish pins and needles thing. About half an hour ago there had been massive amounts of shooting pain up and down it. And eventually that had stopped too. Now it just felt dead.

But through all of that time he hadn't dared move because, well Steven had not been alone in the room. Steven had been lying under the bed in which the woman he desired and the guy who currently seemed to be ringing her bell had been hard at it. He'd felt safe to move while they had been distracted but he had been right in the middle of rearranging himself when they had finished. After that they had just lain there cuddling quietly. But eventually they had got up and gone. Or rather that was the thing. Steven could have sworn that only she had left but he couldn't hear any breathing but his own. He decided to risk it. He moved his arm. Or rather he tried to but it wouldn't move. Steven rolled over, which isn't easy under a bed and then used his other arm to shake the dead one. Warm blood rushed back into his arm and the pain returned. It felt like there were little pieces of glass in his veins. As the pain rushed through him he asked himself the fundamental question, "was she worth it"? To which the answer was still yes. In fact she was more intriguing now than before.

From the moment that he'd woken that morning he had known today was the day. He'd risen, dressed and walked straight over to her villa. He'd knocked on the door and they'd started talking. She seemed interesting and interested. And so Steven had invited her out for breakfast. But she had given the perfect response. She'd invited him in for breakfast.

It was while they were toasting the bagels that this other guy had arrived. She had told him to hide which seemed promising to Steven. He had thought to himself as he was legging it up the stairs that she was only getting him to hide because she wanted to have sex with him.

So Steven had gone and hidden under the bed of what had seemed like the spare room. But of course that was the room they had decided to use.

His arm felt just about useable. He listened again. Still silence. He decided to risk it. He slid himself out from under the bed and stood up. He have a quick glance back to the bed just to be sure. And that's when he realised that there had been something else dead. The guy in the bed.

[Check back next Friday for part 3]

The hair

Brian was rolling the hair between his fore and index fingers. To an outside observer it may have looked like he was doing this casually. But this was not the case. Brian’s life had been ruined by this hair and so it was with great care and attention that Brian examined it.

The hair was long and blonde or rather it had been blonde when it was last attached to Sandra’s head. Blonde hair on its own hardly ever looks really blonde it looks like you would think gray hair should look. Or at least it does until you see a gray hair.

Brian had seen his very own first gray hair just six weeks ago. Jennifer had pointed it out to him and had made some kind of joke about it. She’d called him an old man and so on. Brian had laughed along but then while driving to work the next morning he realised that he needed to change his life. He decided that he didn’t want to become old he wanted to stay young. It wasn’t like he consciously made a decision to trade Jennifer in for a younger model. No it wasn’t like that. He had just happened to bump in to Sandra at the coffee machine. Sandra and Brian had flirted like they usually had but this time Brian hadn’t stopped as early as he usually would.

They hadn’t had sex on the photocopier or anything seedy, much to Brian’s disappointment, but they had started meeting for lunch. And then they had started telling their colleagues that they were “going to the gym”. It was the perfect cover.

Or it had been. Brian had been greedy though. He had tried to keep Jennifer in the dark. He didn’t want to commit to Sandra so he kind of hadn’t bothered telling Jennifer about Sandra just in case it didn’t work out.

It had worked well until the hair. The hair that got into his underpants. The hair that Jennifer had found. The hair that was definitely not Jennifer’s. The hair that Brian was rolling around in his fingers. The hair that he now allowed to drop to the floor. Brian thought as he watched it fall, that the stress of what was about to happen to him would probably mean more gray hair.

Scorching

Steven lay on a slab of boiling hot concrete. He was wearing only his shorts and a damp towel on his forehead. He had never thought that he would have picked the concrete to lay on but the deck chair was made of plastic and it had started to feel like it was melting. He didn’t mind sun burn but he didn’t want plastic burn.

He moved his hand to the side and found without looking his beer. It was floating in a bucket of ice. He pulled the stopper out and then took a pull of the beer. It felt cold along the length of his body for a few glorious seconds. And then he put the stopper back and gently dropped the bottle back into the bucket.

They’d all taken the piss out of him when he’d first suggested the stopper. But now they were all doing it. It was the only way to keep the beer afloat in the bucket of ice. They’d all been coming here for years. In fact they’d never even been able to use a bucket of ice because the bottles would so easily turn over once open. But Steven had changed all of that.

Life had changed for them all since Steven had blown in. For Steven it was a change from life back in dreary old England. For everyone else it was a reminder that they had all come out to Spain to finally enjoy their lives and not just to die. Steven drank more than everyone else, had more sex than everyone else and caught more sun than everyone else. But more than anything else he thought more than anyone else and that was what had made him a sudden celebrity. And truth be told what had got him the sex.

But despite outward appearance the contrary Steven was not satisfied. Steven was hungry for more. Steven had a single secret in his life. A secret that he never told anyone. Steven had never, in his whole life, ever been satisfied. And that was the thing that made him want more than everyone else. And when he saw something, like he had seen her across the bar the night before nothing would stand in his way. Nothing.

He would have to have her.

[This is part one of a 4 part series, part 2 will be next Friday.]

Just gone Kennington

It's late. The clattering train. The chattering passengers. The tired faces. The drunken tramp – who smells. The lovers – who should get a room. The bored student listening to his music and leering at the women. And me watching them all. Happy and entertained by them. And always unaware of how they all see me.

Rooting Around – Part 4

[This is part 4 of the 4 part short story Rooting Around, you may want to read Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3 if you haven’t already]

Somehow Sean had expected something to happen from just touching the box. Like it would innately be able to read his desire and take him where he wanted to go to. In fact nothing had happened when he had touched the corner of the box other than he’d realised that the box was made of cardboard rather than wood as it had seemed in the half light of the attic.

He saw that some tape was holding down the flaps on the top of the box, and he started to pull it back towards him. His knees felt very uncomfortable in this position so he sat back down to help him, but kept – very slowly – pulling the tape towards him. Sitting back down made some of the blood rush back to his head. With this he realised that actually he was quite drunk. Was he ready to meet his previous self and explain to him how he should change his life?

And maybe it wasn’t such a good idea anyway? Suddenly Sean wasn’t so sure he wanted to go through with it. He would have to stop being himself to win Jen, and he wasn’t sure that he was totally ready to do that. Sean quite liked being Sean, he wasn’t sure he didn’t like being Sean more than he liked Jen at this point.

And anway, surely he didn’t have to travel through time immediately. That’s one of the beauties of time travel, you’ve always got a chance to do it again if it didn’t work out the first time. Maybe he’d have a coffee first and sober up? And maybe a shower wouldn’t be the worst of ideas?

The only downside to this plan was the exit to the attic. The arrangement of the attic was such that the light switch was not within reach of the ladder. But, he thought, he’d be back up here in a little bit, maybe he’d just leave the light on when he went down this time.

As he stepped down the ladder the full force of daylight re-entered his eyes. And he found himself blinking more than normally. Everything looked so normal. Up there everything had seemed so surreal. It was like coming of a movie theatre after seing a film during the day.

He walked down stairs and walked into the kitchen. Oddly he couldn’t find any coffee in the cupboard, actually there wasn’t anything in the cupboard which he was sure wasn’t right. He walked into the living room, and realised that there was completely different furniture in there.

“Hello,” said a voice from an armchair that Sean didn’t own, it was the old man who Sean had bought the house from, “having fun travelling through time?”