They cling to the branches a little longer this year, and it takes a second storm to scatter them. One rainy morning she rakes them into a pile, and the loamy smell sparks a memory. Abby’s voice caught in the drizzle.
“I never know if this is the beginning or the end.”

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Ice crystals

Imagined words for snow and ice

‘Cumulospiration,’ he said, and watched as she stretched out her hand and tried to grasp it. A small sigh as it vanished.

‘Gone,’ she said. And he shared her disappointment.

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Now is the time to cross the line

I drew a line of my own, but did not tell you. It followed the contours and undulations of your steadfast delineation. Rising and falling in parallel. Stretching forward to the horizon, to a point where the world falls beyond reach.

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Misty Lake

Canada Geese

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.

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Happy Halloween


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.’

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Small Shadow Tree


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.

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Beitostolen, Norway

St Moritz

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.

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Tell Me About It

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

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Podcast 4


‘Laika’ Flash Fiction inspired by prompt from Visual Verse written by Jennifer Harvey

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