The record was broken. That was not a cliché or a euphemism, it really was completely and utterly broken. Snapped in two due to a bit too much rough and a lot of tumble. And it was all Johnny’s fault anyway. Our dad had told us not to touch the old LPs stacked neatly at the bottom of Mum’s bookshelf, but he just had to try it. Just had to see if he could work out the record player – the HiFi as Dad called it. He almost had it too, only he couldn’t find the play button, and when...
Lola. When I think of her my heart doesn't beat right. It doesn't go bathumpbathump like on television. It goes beep beep beep because I'm a robot.
Wait. It's more like a clock than a heart. They've placed me in front of the Barking Burger. I'm supposed to bark every hour. Tell people about the specials and deals and what delicious meat we have. Come taste our barky patties.
Instead every hour I call out Lola. Lola. She walks by the window and cocks her head as though she can hear me.
They talk about me being defective. A chip...
After years of experience, Todd knew that the best way to eat a pocket watch was in the reclining position. It aided with digestion. This was already his fifth watch of the afternoon, but his hunger was nearly insatiable. His favorite parts were the delicate gear mechanisms; they cracked between his teeth like the fine bones in canned salmon.
After he finished his watch, Todd hopped up and hiked back to the trail. He hid among the underbrush and waited for the next group of passers-by. It was just sheer luck that he was in the forest this weekend at...
Bombs were the last thing on his mind. If he lost this poker game, it would be his death anyway. The lights flickered, the ceiling dripped and the cigarettes had long since expired. The gaunt janitor across from him wheezed in a satisfied rheumy way. There it is. His tell for a rotten hand.
The girl with the brown eyes sucked on her teeth. The bombs above loosed plaster from the ceiling and it salted her hair. She shook it off like a dog, her brow creased in concentration. She had been squinting the entire game, suffering her near-sighted bet...
I'm dead. Really dead. Not in the "there'll be a twist at the end and I'll be saved" kind of way. Just dead.
I'm not truly Welsh of course, being that my Great Grandfather's Mother's second husband was from Scotland. A secret shame that the Family has bourn quite well, considering. When questioned over my flame coloured Ginger hair, relatives successfully hinted at the local milk delivery representative as explanation. An obvious solution, except for the fact that her hair was clearly and obviously dyed, but there you go.
So, our family are what Cwm-yn-Canu locals would call "incomers", not...
The elephant dragged its feet. Since they were made of rubber, this made the task all the more difficult, as she pulled herself by her front legs across the linoleum floor. The intermittent squeals of her back feet dragging, followed by the silence as she readied herself for another pull, created the slow and steady rhythm of her despair. Why had the toymaker failed to provide her with decent appendages? What child wanted to cuddle up with a stuffed animal with hard-soled rubber feet? Why had fate seen fit to give her creator a pragmatic bent which resulted in her...
My feet ached, but it was well worth it. Standing in line in the freezing cold, clutching my ticket with the number 134 on it, I think I had a pretty good chance this time. The one hundred and thirty-three people in front of me were all bundled up too, scarves wound around their faces against the blowing wind, hats pulled down low on their faces. We all had sneakers on, waiting for the doors to open so that we could stampede into the store and wrestle with each other for the units the store had stocked. I looked at...
The elephant dragged its feet. Meanwhile a man with a mustache spun in circles. A pink tutu hung limply around his waist, and the cigar held loosely in his mouth dropped ash onto the pavement. Olivia hated art movies, but she had agreed to join Richard. It was something about him wanting to impress his artsy friends. He didn't even know what all this meant. Olivia was sure that no one in the room did.
It was a little like placing a few blocks in a room and calling it art. She had gone to a museum with Emily recently....
The wind swept through the area, sending a chill through the hearts of all those that were paying respects here, the weather reflected the emotions contained here, it was violent and broken, moaning around like hell was chasing on its heels. Despite the destructive nature, the gale seemed to gather behind me and encourage me towards a path I had walked often, towards the highest part of this graveyard. The thorns dug into my hand harder, a painful reminder of why I was here. The sun had started to retire, casting an eerie golden glow, hitting the headstones in such...
He never had good taste. He was a rough and tumble builder who wore loud tee shirts or football kit and drank nothing but cheap beer. He was a bully and a loudmouth. But still I married him.
I don't even remember why? He wasn't especially good looking. Lately, he'd even been proud of his ever-expanding beer belly and his ever-decreasing hair. He was my children's father though.
I'm mean, I'm getting older too. Bit thicker round the middle an' all. Few wrinkles around the eyes - smile lines. That's what they should be anyway. Mine are more frown lines....