Staircase Words by Dan Brotzel
At the pool, Mike told his daughter Katy, who was eight, to come into the men’s changing rooms with him and Joe, so they could all have a quick wee…
At the pool, Mike told his daughter Katy, who was eight, to come into the men’s changing rooms with him and Joe, so they could all have a quick wee…
An email chimed into my inbox – an invitation to a charity garden party in aid of abandoned dogs. ‘Teas, cakes, mystery guest and raffle. RSVP,’ the email read. The…
‘Hey, Suzy. Do you know how long we’ve been going out?’ Al was lying on his front, his knees bent and brush-denim flares flapping away. His bare heels banged against…
Dear Santa I’ve been a good girl all year (well, mostly – apart from the hamster-related incident). I’d like a new Barbie (my big brother did experiments on the last…
On the morning of Billi’s funeral, I woke very early. I still didn’t know if I should go, I barely knew her. But mum said it was a local tragedy…
At the dinner table, his mother’s flesh spreads like warm, pale jelly over her chair. His father sits at the head of the table; he is simmering and sour. Tom…
Granny dropped dead in our kitchen when I was thirteen and Mother buried her in the back garden. In the sunny spot where they both liked to sit, Mother always…
The purple tulips you bought have opened wide, like mouths shouting. The yellow stamens are angry tonsils. You’re upstairs on the computer compiling a soundtrack for the party on Saturday…
The bin bag full of helium balloons floats above Morag like a black cloud. She trudges through the village, past the sign that says THE WAGES OF SIN IS DEATH,…
It’s a surprise to see you at the school gate. I’m with Pete, the kids milling around, getting underfoot with PE kits and scooters. I didn’t know you’d moved back.…
Last weekend, 19th January, I had the pleasure of joining Gaynor Jones for the launch of her debut flash fiction collection, Business As Usual. Gaynor has been a regular contributor…
Winter, the coldest for fifteen years, and James is wearing the scarf he stole in his university days from a girl who broke up with him for thinking Kundera was…