“Would you like my last Rolo?” I hold it in the palm of my hand, lying in state in its foil wrapper. She turns towards me and wipes away the strands of hair that are stuck to the tear trails on her cheeks. “I know it’s an old cliché, you just look like you could do with it” I smile… Read it
Archives: TubeFlash Posts
The Amaranthine Moment
The slender iron columns resolute in their purpose, curved off towards the tunnel, their rigid equidistance punctuated by people milling, reading, their toes awkwardly kicking the shiny painted paving stones of the platform in anticipation of the train’s imminent arrival. The woman was there again. Her tall and purposeful gait was as slim and strong in appearance as the column… Read it
The Tenor of Love
When Giuseppe first sang to Elisaveta, her enchanting hazel eyes beguiled him. His heart beat in triple time. Don’t fall in love with your co-star, he thought. Her singing shimmered with emotion, but off-stage Elisaveta froze him out. Other cast members shared champagne in her dressing room, bedecked with camellias delivered under her superdiva contract. Giuseppe longed for a single… Read it
Palladium
She knew it was not a ring. The box was the wrong shape, longer, oblong. And it would all have been too soon, Leave or no Leave. But the curving band of gold, the detailed glitter, the way it lay against the satin; “it makes my heart spin”, she said. “Like the rings of Saturn” he was smiling, “except they’re… Read it
Countdown
The thing she had, the syndrome, was like nothing the best minds in medical science had seen before. In the foyer of A&E they lifted her like cloth sacking, triaged her; no she hadn’t fallen, or vomited. Her temperature was pushing fever point, that was the most they could say. “Do we have her notes?” the nurse wanted to know.… Read it
Luck Lost & Found
He came home on a clear day, early and unexpected; his leave coinciding with the start of spring. He’d taken the first train to London, slept sitting in the corridor, his back up against a compartment. Outside the squat red station at Holland Park he thought he wouldn’t recognise anything, not even where he lived. Then, as he walked down… Read it
Cockatrice
I have wings and a beaky face and perch on the roof of the station to watch the trains come in. I’m a little like an insect – I suck nectar out of the faces of all the pretty flowers that give me life. I crack up when I see my venom go in. I know it hurts but I… Read it
The Arduous Hill
The oily smell in the engineering workshops of the School was distinctive. It infiltrated my young nostrils, neither hateful nor pleasant but indicative of the work that went on there. Lathes worn from use were neatly lined up and decorated with spirals of sparkling swarf, a plantation of post-apocalyptic Christmas trees. My grandfather proudly explained how he had tutored several… Read it
Green Stalks
Trouble with me is, when I start I can’t stop. So I saw this boy, he must have been, hmm, seventeen? Anyway his tie caught my eye. He’s seventeen and wearing a tie? Perhaps he’s got an interview. But a tie covered with bright blue flowers? So I follow him. Down the escalator, on to the platform. He walks to… Read it
Sleepwalkers
Lenny, you’re a deft circle. Lenny, you’re a square. Lenny, do you know how the pavement shifts when you walk along it towards me? Lenny, don’t you see that the way ahead – if not impossible, impassable – is more than a little obstructed with soup cartons, green-handled knives from Monoprix, high street play mats and soft toys from Ikea?… Read it