Short Stories – Page 2

Short Story Reading

I will be reading one of my short stories at an online performance of positive stories and poems celebrating local and national environmental initiatives with Pens of the Earth next Wednesday 22nd, 7-9pm. Sign up at eventbrite

About this event

Pens of the Earth and spoken word troupe T’Articulation invite you to an online evening, via Zoom, of prose and poetry inspired by environmental initiatives. Come and hear writers perform work written in response to our various themes including fresh pieces written for our 2021 Small Differences Add Up theme. (Submission window closes 30th September.)

These stories and poems celebrate local environmentalism – bringing a message of hope and empowerment through imagined encounters, actions, events, and settings; increasing awareness of our surroundings, our connections, and our ability to effect change.

We are also delighted to welcome Jenni Jones, Sustrans Liveable Cities & Towns Officer for Portsmouth, as our guest speaker. ‘School Streets are coming to Portsmouth!‘ She’ll tell you more…

Tickets to this event are free. However contributions to our Wilder Portsmouth fundraiser are greatly appreciated: donations will help seed change in the city, benefiting both people and wildlife.

The Zoom link will be emailed out to you the day before the performance. Please contact the organiser if you don’t receive it.

Small Sounds Ricochet Through the Darkness by FC Malby

My story, Small Sounds Ricochet Through the Darkness, has been published in Idle Ink today. It was written in memory of Sarah Everard and anyone who has been affected by violence against women.

Don’t walk home alone, not at this time of night, my friends say, waving at me from a table of empty cocktail glasses, flapping like a gaggle of geese. I’ll be fine, I say, I’ll text you when I’m home. Are you sure? they ask, but it’s more a way of allaying their own fears. Yes, I’ll be fine.

I walk out of the bar, keys in hand, each one pushed between my fingers — a miniature Edward Scissorhands — EarPods in, mobile phone clutched in the other hand. I wore flats, because that’s what you do when you might need to run. It’s normal, except that it’s not. Normal is wearing what you like, not thinking about when you might need to run or who you would need to call, it’s not turning the music down in case there’s a Come over here, Love. Oi. You. I’m talking to you.

Normal is a regular heartbeat, a regular pace to your stride. It’s not hovering under a streetlight where people see you before crossing the stretch of darkness. It’s not scanning a route for places to hide, or rounding a corner and sprinting like a triathlete because the footsteps behind are picking up speed.

The girls will go home later in a taxi, but I need to get back for the babysitter, pay her, get into my pyjamas and sleep, having kissed the cherubs on the forehead, checked their breathing. Every parent checks the rise and fall of their child’s torso, especially when it is still.

Like the still of the sea without wind, nights like this make me nervous, nights where I get followed or shouted at with no one around, where the air is thin, where small sounds ricochet through the darkness. These are the nights when men get too close, gaze for too long, howl like a pack of hyenas… continue reading at Idle Ink.

Sacred Halos

The guide ushers us through rooms with a sweeping arm movement. You see a windmill. She points to a Rembrandt and a Picasso as though they are the same. Her crimson lipstick has left its mark on her upper tooth, reminds you of a girl you used to take salsa classes with, until she vanished.

Tourists behind are snapping pictures, pressing you forwards, reminds you of a Rolling Stones concert.

“No flash,” she says. “Stop.”

Her words pull away like birds vanishing into the eye of a storm. There is a final snap of a shutter release and she growls like a dog: lips curled at the edges, eyes fixed to the floor.

“And we have our final room, the Cubists.”

She says the word, Cubists, as though the best has been saved for last, as though she is about to produce a vintage port, but you know it is not the highlight. The highlight was the entree: Da Vinci’s Last Supper…. Read more on Medium

‘Publication of the Month’ Nomination by Spillwords Readers

I was thrilled to discover that my story, You Bruise Easily, has been nominated by readers of Spillwords Journal for Publication of the Month. Voting is now closed, but I will keep you posted. The nominations are based on readership popularity within the last 30 days. One very happy author!

I have also reached a landmark of 5,000 followers on Twitter. I really value and appreciate all the support of readers. With six short stories published this year, and two more forthcoming in Fully Lit Magazine, it has been a productive year. If you have missed any, there is a list of publications on my website.

Watch this space! I hope you’ve all had a reasonable summer, despite the current circumstances. Stay well.

Four Lit Journal Acceptances This Week And A New Short Story Publication

I hope everyone has survived lockdown. We are not out of the woods yet, but it’s good to have a little more contact with the outside world. I have had a recent flurry of writing and four short story acceptances this week! Stories forthcoming in Burnt Breakfast Magazine (July 2020), Fully Lit Magazine (July 2020), Lunate Fiction (August 2020)

I had a lovely acceptance letter from all of the above journals, but wanted to share the words from Lunate Fiction about my story, A Place of Unfinished Sentences:

“It is a rich and complex story, once that requires focus and attention from a reader in order to bring out the full story, and even then, as the title suggests, we are not given all the pieces of the puzzle! Your use of narrative voice is exceptional in this piece, as is your careful use of minor detail which draws the reader’s attention and acts almost as a smoke-screen for the wider picture. It is a remarkable flash fiction.”

And in other news, my story, Someone Once Told Me That Delia Is Outdated, was published by Reflex Fiction, May 2020. You can read an extract below and follow the link to read the complete story at Reflex Press.

When paranoia sets in, I mentally search for the fire escape. Is it in the hallway? Is it on the second floor? What if I feel the urge to jump from the balcony? A short man with a balding head walks past me and winks. He is holding a book on golf. My stomach turns. I am in the self-help section, looking for something that might fix my mind, but it is not there. There is no book that can erase memories. Maybe the cookery section might help, something from Jamie Oliver or Mary Berry. Someone once told me that Delia is outdated. I have acquired lots of books on how to bake cupcakes and muffins, which I would happily make all day, but sometimes you need to get into the meaty stuff, the grit of life….read more at Reflex Press.