the absent scribe

Sorry folks, the Easter holidays had the standard impact on writing/blogging that it usually seems to do. Days spent wandering beaches, playing in parks and general splashing about meant that writing sadly took a back seat for a few days. Though I would love to admit to being refreshed by the experience for some reason the words seem locked away, aside from the odd flash fiction and submitting my first everyentry into the Bridport Prize Flash Fiction (foolish dream, but hell why not right?) it seems an aeon since I wrote anything meaningful.

Ah well.

Very soon you’ll be able to read a piece that I submitted to The Were-Traveler for their forthcoming issue thematically themed around the Southern Fried Freak Show. The piece is entitled Clownish Delights and should be up to read sometime around the 26th of April. It marks a shift in tone and style for me but I hope you find it enjoyable.

Of further news is that the anthology Happily Never After is scheduled to be released on the 9th June 2014 by Fey Publishing, inside lurking beside far better tales will be my tale, Thirst.

Anyway here’s a short flash I submitted to the fine folk at Flash!Friday the prompt was the photo below and the theme of Treasure.



Gare du Nord, Paris. CC Photo by Elliot Gilfix.
Gare du Nord, Paris. CC Photo by Elliot Gilfix.


The Return

The city devoured the train, banishing the green fields and grey skies that had lain across the world like a sodden blanket. The middle-aged businessman, returning from ‘a business trip to Bruges’ (#perv, #careerstall) was still snoring loudly, the knees of his suit shining with eternal failure.

He had tried flirting, yet what 22 year old is impressed by anyone boasting of trips to Europe? Astrid took her revenge, uploading a picture of his drooling edifice to tumblr:


Getting close now. Astrid checked her mental checklist:

Fags for Paul, Mexican.

Booze for Dad, Vietnam.

Art shit for Mum, Peru.

The train ambled up to the platform, grey faces gathered alongside greyer pigeons. She could see the banner already awaiting her, the final signifier that her gap year was over.


Astrid stepped onto the platform, bag heavy, body tired,

Yet her pace quickened, hurried by the realization of what she had been searching for all along.


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