Noah was still taking a deep, pollen-filled breath beneath the wisteria when Carrie opened the door. He hadn’t yet manifested his Cat-Shelter-Worker persona, let alone pressed the doorbell.
He’d always thought the photos of Carrie in those speculative articles were filtered, but here she was, not a line on her sixty-year-old face. Her sharp blue eyes narrowed as she regarded him.
Continue readingThe pub door opened and a large figure, like a swollen keg of ale, rolled into the premises. Another equally rotund chap was at his heels. The first one, Huw ‘Jars’ Scanlan, spilt himself into the largest chair in the bar, the second, Hugh ‘Janus’ O’ Keefe, purchased two pints of stout. He carried them across to the table with the reverence of a court servant carrying an embroidered cushion for a monarch. The cream crowns atop the beer maintained unruffled dignity during their journey.
Continue readingThe management plan was never going to work, obviously. An NVQ in business studies simply didn’t cover these aspects of workforce management. By the end of the day the situation had descended into a plan for saving managerial face and finally releasing everyone to their homes and local pubs. The union managed to extract a promise of overtime at quadruple rates in return for waiving any right to begin legal action alleging unlawful, enforced detention in a workplace.
Continue readingJuniper loved the walk from the cottage to the battered blue post box at the end of her lane. Her steps took on a lightness as she padded barefoot, swaying with baby Violet tucked on her hip, high on the savoury aroma of wild garlic. Pale yellow primroses, cowslips and bluebells caught the bucolic spring sunshine. This corner of Dorset would always be home. Her mother and grandmother had grown up here. It was here that Juniper could better remember her mother Astrid – the arc of her nose, the daffodil chains they had made, the scent of milky rice pudding straight from the Aga.
Continue reading“Forgive me Father,” the boy’s voice whispered in the dark, “for I have sinned.”
“And what,” asked the kindly voice of Father McDonald “have you done?”
“I’ve murdered someone.”
A brief silence.
“I see, my child.”
“I poisoned Father McPhearson.”
Continue readingHOMEWORK for deadline Thursday 10pm, 02.07.26.
TASK: ‘Confession’. Write 500 words or fewer about ‘Confession’. Your story title isn’t included in the 500 words.
Homework to be in by 10 pm at the latest, Thursday 2nd July 2026. (This time deadline will be helpful to both Martyn and Pat).
Meeting at 1.30pm, Sunday 05.07.26, Waterstones Bookshop, top floor [via stairs or lift], Oxford Street. Finish about 3.00pm.