A tale of shipwreck in 300 words 5 minutes “As you see sir, our wharehouse is filled with a ship’s necessities. Come join me in a tumbler of this most excellent rum, while your Bo’sun secures your needs. “If I’d payed attention to my father’s words, I’d have left the village when those navy spiesContinue reading “A shipwreck merchant’s tale (short fiction)”
Category Archives: Fiction
Slapstick (a folk history)
It was the annual Festival of the Glorious Ewe, the patron saint of Mordek, and the capital was thronged with visitors. Kopek, chief spy of the Pimpleknuckle Confederation, surreptitiously mingled with the crowd disguised as a peasant on a jaunt to town, though his monocle and well waxed handlebar moustaches jarred slightly with his shepherds smock and slouch hat.
An early Christmas (fiction)
A tale of the joys and tribulations of homesteading in the Canadian wilderness 20 minutes Michael was first up. He slid out of the double bed, onto the sleeping platform above the kitchen, and went quietly down the ladder. Slipping on a warm coat from behind the cabin door, he unhooked the latch and wentContinue reading “An early Christmas (fiction)”
Dane (fiction)
We were both quite drunk as we walked through the early evening traffic.
“Who cares,” said Dane, “my wife has gone. Good riddance to her.”
He lurched against me. “I’m glad we met up. You know I’ve been wondering where you were Tan. Jeez, it’s good to see you again.” He put an arm around my shoulder.
The International Academy of Hosiery Studies (Hackney)
There will be an exhaustive series of talks and papers on numerous aspects of hosiery, and specifically its unexplained absence. All our work will explore this profoundly topical subject from an historical, cultural, philosophical, post-modernist, Marxist, and literary perspective.
The loss of a sock is both a profound moment, and a mundane interlude. For some it may even be a transcendental experience.
Slapstick
It was the annual Festival of the Glorious Ewe, the patron saint of Mordek, and the capital was thronged with visitors. Kopek, chief spy of the Pimpleknuckle Confederation, surreptitiously mingled with the crowd disguised as a peasant on a jaunt to town, though his monocle and well waxed handlebar moustaches jarred slightly with his shepherds smock and slouch hat.
Getting Lucky (fiction)
Piter ate his sandwiches at the back of the library where he couldn’t be seen. The papers had no jobs he could apply for. He had looked at Maclean’s, Beautiful BC, and a skiing magazine, but finished none of the articles. As he folded his sandwich bag, a pretty young woman pushed a cart of books around the nearest stack. Piter self consciously cleared the crumbs off the table as she began to stack the books. He wished he had shaved that morning.
writesimon 