He made his way the length of Sumner Road. Cigarette to his bottom lip, constant, pushing an open, dull-metal cart pendanted with scrap trophies; a hubcap, a strappy shoe, a tiny transistor radio. Holstered at its side was a wide shovel, a mean looking yard broom, an oversized pan, a wire brush. From the front … Continue reading The Windmill Arms.
Scarce of traffic, vehicular or pedestrian, Sumner Road stretches east-west across the early evening dereliction that was once lined with kempt and pretty red bricked terraces and local businesses, but now is bordered only by bombed-out and mostly abandoned buildings resembling broken teeth. Some are so destroyed that the backyards, wild with nettles, can … Continue reading Sumner Road.
Knott squatted in the muddy field, finding meagre shelter there beneath the rattling leaves of a storm-split twist of tree, a stone’s throw from the road and, glancing up and down its silent length, he felt pretty sorry for himself in his sodden clothes. He figured he would stay a while, see if the rain … Continue reading “…let him come hither.”
Shingle drag beneath shallow wave pages. The lapstrake swings heavily towards him and if it were any rougher, waist-deep in the swell, Knott would surely be pulled beneath it. Sam, flapping his arms, wades from the beach into the surf. Ffooks, bow in both hands, says, get in, get in. Knott pulls himself up over … Continue reading From the beach.
This is another way he remembered her. Her laughter flowered the living room walls causing colours to bloom here and voices, like hot-air balloons, also. Her face framed at the hatch, asking from the kitchen, who’s for dessert. And some of them claimed to be stuffed, but thank you, and some of them, groaning, held … Continue reading The Pear Gateau.
Short story 8 minutes Downfall - short story excerpt