Short Story Archive

  • “Carry me quickly to the last place you remember us being happy together,” was the requirement that Davis had written on the paper that I took from the envelope on the day we buried him. Too late, as ever with Davis. He was buried in the one suit he owned, inside...

    Davis – The irrepressible Resting Place

    Posted on 2011/05/03 | No Comments
    “Carry me quickly to the last place you remember us being happy together,” was the requirement that Davis had written on the paper that I took from the envelope on the day we buried him. Too late, as ever with Davis. He was buried in the one suit he owned, inside...

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  • Having recently noted the deluge of press for the Dead Island videogame trailer, I‚Äôve decided that in order to sell my next book I‚Äôm going to ask someone more talented than I am to write a short piece of text for it. I am thinking of asking Stephen King or...

    It’s Just Some Text – Get Over It

    Posted on 2011/02/22 | No Comments
    Having recently noted the deluge of press for the Dead Island videogame trailer, I’ve decided that in order to sell my next book I’m going to ask someone more talented than I am to write a short piece of text for it. I am thinking of asking Stephen King or...

    Continue Reading...

  • George Rugley refuses to talk about the house on the green in the village of Wallington. Save for a petition to have it demolished and the ground on which it stood since 1899 concreted over, George is adamant in his silence.

    The Wallington Horror

    Posted on 2010/10/28 | 6 Comments
    George Rugley refuses to talk about the house on the green in the village of Wallington. Save for a petition to have it demolished and the ground on which it stood since 1899 concreted over, George is adamant in his silence.

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  • Haring down the hill into the village on his five-speed ‚Äì past the preparatory school, past the scout hut and the post office – then cornering tight right, hardly time to change down, past the hair salon.

    Haring Down the Hill

    Posted on 2010/10/28 | No Comments
    Haring down the hill into the village on his five-speed – past the preparatory school, past the scout hut and the post office Рthen cornering tight right, hardly time to change down, past the hair salon.

    Continue Reading...

  • This is what it was like before I was born. Before I asked you what death was like and before you showed me. I‚Äôd never seen the image of a dead man – a corpse picture ‚Äì let alone the real thing. Back then, I‚Äôd never seen a cold morning without...

    On the Run

    Posted on 2010/10/26 | No Comments
    This is what it was like before I was born. Before I asked you what death was like and before you showed me. I’d never seen the image of a dead man Рa corpse picture – let alone the real thing. Back then, I’d never seen a cold morning without...

    Continue Reading...

  • He lost her hard but all he can think is that sales are wonderful but filthy things. They are the public‚Äôs gaze made concrete. It‚Äôs getting to the sales channels that involves the grubbiness. We are all battling for the market and battling with the stall holders and the licensors for...

    Jumid

    Posted on 2010/10/08 | No Comments
    He lost her hard but all he can think is that sales are wonderful but filthy things. They are the public’s gaze made concrete. It’s getting to the sales channels that involves the grubbiness. We are all battling for the market and battling with the stall holders and the licensors for...

    Continue Reading...