Tag: Short Story

We wanted to be gypsies, the raggle-taggle vagabonds of folksongs and fairy tales. We wanted to meander through the countryside in brightly painted wooden caravans on wheels, pulled by thickset ponies with shaggy coats and fringed feet, to sleep under the stars and cook food on an open fire, lit by lanterns glimmering in the…

Yesterday, I think it was, I had a setback. I don’t have a sequence of events, before or after, but I sort of woke up midafternoon at the wheel of my car in a city forty miles west of our house. I didn’t remember driving there and as far as I know, I had no…

It’s been four hours and you’re still sitting in the green bucket chairs, not reading the array of People magazines on the table, as the wall clock barely ticks forward and Ryan sits next to you playing Fruit Ninja on his phone, using his left hand because the right one got hit with a line…

It’s so cold here. If I was at home I’d have to switch the heating on. She’d be calling me, nagging me, summoning me, until I did it, and made her a hot water bottle too while the house warmed up. She can’t stand the cold. She can’t stand any discomfort. And it’s my job…

The dogs and I don’t go as far as we used to. Instead of the half-mile jog to the mailboxes at the top of the road or sometimes to the river another half-mile beyond, it is all Cabo can do to limp alongside me for a few hundred yards. Loma stays close in the alfalfa…

“But I have another question?” Mack was again told to take his butt outside. To go take advantage of the beautiful day. Go get some fresh air. Go play. Go do something. She didn’t care where or what. Just as long as it wasn’t there. She needed a break from him. And at some point,…

A rocking in the wind – rattled windows and a tremor. From night came a turbulence so maddening that he closed his eyes and covered his ears. Maybe, if he shouted, the deafening sounds – its frightening clash would subside. So. He shouted, sitting on the kitchen floor with his legs crossed. The wood of…

She hesitates before she places the phone to her ear. Always one to text or email but rarely one to call. He knew this well but rings anyway. She squeezes her eyes shut, and flecks of colour erupt across the backs of her eyelids.

I’ve been on this park bench since the gates opened, trying to work out if the woman opposite is an old mother or a glamorous gran. Then the baby she’s holding cries, and she unbuttons her blouse to suckle it. I bow my head so she doesn’t think I’m staring. Her drinks can falls, which…

As I crawl out of my hiding place after the storm has passed, I realise I am alone. I shout, though my lips are chapped and stinging, and struggle to form the words as the harsh, cold air floods my throat. The winds have been intolerable the last few days, with drifts up to a…