Category Archives: Friday Fictioneers

Mr Smith rocked gently in his chair as a sudden gust blew through the dilapidated shop that was once Bob’s Lighting Emporium. He sat in darkness, a bible clutched in one bony hand, the foreclosure notice in the other. Thousands … Continue reading →

‘Awight?’ ‘Yeah, not so bad. You?’. ‘Tidy mate. Cauwt anyfink yet then?’ ‘Sod all. Twenny four years and nuffink. Not a sausage.’ They sat in silence for a bit. ‘Yer ‘at’s cracked. Did ya know?’. ‘Yeah. ‘bin that way years. … Continue reading →

My dead Mom had always said that rock music was ‘The Devil’s own work’. At this point in time, she might have been right. We’d smashed some gear up after a bad gig, did some coke and Jack, tried fooling … Continue reading →

Damien watched from a corner of the gallery. Art critics poured over his latest ‘installation’ marvelling at his creativity and insight to the modern world. Camera’s flashed and reporters asked daft questions, spurred on by the furore of the moment. … Continue reading →

The trio played their last encore, fuelled by the euphoria of the audience. The towering speaker stacks rumbled, moved the last gasps of vibrating air. Roadies appeared, boxes moved. People dispersed and rubbish was cleared. Over a few thousand years … Continue reading →

‘Thanks for nothing Ike.’ Betty sighed and looked out the window for the last time and lit a candle on the table. At 86 she had served her time and millions of customers at the roadside café now positioned 2 … Continue reading →

The circus performer proclaimed ‘Roll up, roll up! Make your choice and choose a door. You just don’t know what you’ll find on the other side!’ ‘It can’t be much, it’s just a door’. I scoffed, chose yellow, stepped through … Continue reading →