Out on the lake, the low plaintive call of Canada geese lingered in the mist, the sound reverberating in the moist air like an echo.
The idea comes at night, of course. It creeps up the stairs to the bedroom where you sleep, and you wipe it away, this thing which brushes the skin of your forehead. But it finds a way in, and whispers to you, ‘hush, hush.’
You dip fingers in the water expecting cold, feeling warmth. It ebbs away as the boat edges closer, ever closer. Colder, ever colder.
Nine in the evening, and the sun starts to dip below the rooftops, the dust and heat of the day, turning the sky a ruby red. September, though it feels like high summer. There’s the same lazy slowness in the air and it has her reaching for the cool of a water glass which she holds to her temple.
A short story I wrote as an exercise for the weekly Faber Academy #QuickFic competition. This week they asked for stories inspired by a randomly-selected Wikipedia article, which happened to be about Sverre Farstad, a Norwegian speed skater and Olympic gold medallist. This is my take on the prompt. You can read the winning entries here.
A very short story I wrote which was shortlisted for the A3 Review on the theme of ‘Tracks’ There are tracks on your arm from a parallel life, and I want to know all about it. The truth now, you hear? No bullshit. Just the facts. Don’t tell me your mama didn’t love you. Your papa beat you. Your girl ran out on you. Cuz I can see something wild there. It glints. Sexy? Sure. Scary? You bet. Was it all just a crazy misadventure? Something you did one day cuz Jack – who you never see any more, Read More
You can also listen to Natalie Winter read this story over at the Mash Stories Soundcloud podcast The Wing Walker We’re in the desert and it’s way more beautiful than I expected. In the early morning light, the sand is dusky pink, a damask rose that folds, dips and ripples like the ocean. I had imagined something harsh. A sun too bright to walk towards, a wind that flicked sand grains at your eyes, a heat that left you brittle. The calm comes as a surprise. It was Alexander’s idea. “The Al Ain” he said. When I looked at him, Read More
Akiyoshi walks into the forest. He does not turn around. Though when he hears the girl laugh he feels the pull of it and stops, thinking “this is it, I will turn back because of this.” Her laughter catches in the branches and hangs there for a moment like a bird you cannot see before a breeze stirs the air and carries it away. Akiyoshi lifts his feet and walks on. He is aware of the deepening shadows, the cooling of the air. He feels the softness of the ground underfoot and smells the dankness of the moss. He Read More
Under A Blue Sky This story was first published in 2014 by Visual Verse and you can read it there. Or of you prefer, listen to me read it for you.