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  • Fiction > Historical Fiction
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    Out of all the public places to make a scene, this madman has chosen here. Of all the doorways to choose to sleep, this madman has chosen mine. I watch through my window as a copper man flings some copper coins at the madman. We, he out there with his coppers and tomatoes and I in here with my fran...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    I don’t understand why a nettle bed is referred to as a ‘bed’. ‘Bed’ seems a strange name for those green spears of spite behind the garden shed; it isn’t a place for rest. Painful white blisters beaded y skin, my father’s feather-light touches asking me scream in a childish agony. Af...
  • Fiction > Historical Fiction
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    Knees in the mud, I gaze to the sky. In the distance, at the opposite side of the camp, a pole stands tall, with a scratty piece of cloth fluttering in the breeze. It twists itself around the pole, then unfurls itself again, knotting and unknotting, turning and churning, like the bold guts of the m...
  • Fiction > Thriller/Mystery
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    "Stay here, Tiff," he'd told her, "stay here with Grandpa." That was ten years ago. And she's stayed. It was Tiffany's brother that had left her behind. He'd smiled bravely as he'd tucked Tiffany into the hospital bed beside their comatose grandfather. H...
  • Fiction > Thriller/Mystery
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    Too late. Here it comes; 250 tonnes of metal, people, luggage, at 200 kilometres per hour down a path of wood and metal and rocky debris. It clacks, it roars, as if it’s willing me to move, shouting at me to get out of the way. The lights blare, casting a long shadow onto the tracks behind me. M...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    We sit alone in assembly, Georgia and I. No one ever seems to sit with us, unless there are no seats left. We’re a pair of freaks, to be honest. Mr Jones shouts, as usual, telling everyone to shut up, his thick Welsh accent ringing over the chatter. He’s a short man, and rather chubby, with rec...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    I’d always liked Steve. I’m not sure why. He’s an odd boy, with ridiculously messy hair, faded clothes that hang loosely from his tall, thin frame, and his face didn’t seem to have been washed in days. His bag has been repaired several times, mostly on the strap, where his peer-mentoring ‘...
  • Fiction > Thriller/Mystery
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    I sit wordlessly, gazing at Emilia as she sobs, the river curling round our dragging feet. I grip the branch, my knuckles turning a distinctive white. My hands slip, splinters digging into my vulnerably flesh. My fingers slip under the tough cord of the one of the nooses tied firmly to the branch. ...
  • Fiction > Thriller/Mystery
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    I study my reflection as I pull the swelteringly hot straighteners through my thin hair. The falsely purple strands tumble flow over my face; a thick violet curtain to hide who I am. I scan my clothes, tugging on the fabrics. I hate how big I am. I’m thinner than any of my friends, but my clothes...
  • Poetry > Ballad
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    Wishes are for fairy tales And dreams are for kids The prayers aren’t working So I’m gonna close the lid And lock it up ‘Cause I just don’t care anymore It’s simply coming and going Like the waves on the shore I’ll finish this off Write my name at the end Paste it on the e...
  • Fiction > Thriller/Mystery
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    The room fills with the soft light of the sunrise as I lay, gazing into the beautiful display of colours, stretching it’s long fingers across the clear bluebell sky. I smile to myself, then frown. I have the strange feeling something bad was going to happen today. Something that was going to chang...
  • Fiction > Thriller/Mystery
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    Before I tell you my story, I feel I must tell you about Imogen. Imogen is the crazy old lady who lives down my street. She is obsessed with cats, in the most warped, sick way possible. No one down my street has a cat, for fear of Imogen stuffing the poor creature, like she had every cat she had eve...
  • Fiction > Thriller/Mystery
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    There’s so many dancers. They’re beautiful. I have to touch one…just to make sure they’re real. I reach out… The girl screams. They turn towards me…They’re closing in….I’m not waking up…Why can’t I wake up? I wander through the room, the orchestra ringing in my ears. Why w...

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