Tag: short story
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Meeting on the Motorway
He was driving home, not for the first but the third time this week, and he was tired. Paul’s weariness was an insidious thing, . It had begun not weeks but months since, an insistent fatigue beyond sleep’s cure with roots that grew a little deeper each day, spread a little wider each week; so…
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Sebastian
Dim, reflected street lighting found its way into the alley, glimpsing features from the shadows: a large half-opened refuse bin, stacked pallets by a steel-clad door, timber leaning on a wire frame. The boy looked back. Sebastian looked back. “My front yard! Urban Gothic is so alluring, don’t you think?” “No, I don’t.” Nell…
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The Grapes of Wrath
It’s been a busy few days, so this is another from the archives (one I rather like, actually). It is never going to be the most promising of conversations. I fact, it would not be a conversation at all if I am not at a loose end, or if I had thought to dispose of…
Frederick Anderson's Story Blog 