Micro fiction: “I stopped to smell the flower”

I stopped to smell the flower at the roadside. Its petals dripped red upon the ashen-grey ground. My back strained beneath my book-filled backpack. Them I dared not leave behind. I followed the painted flowers to a ramshackle building. There I found the artist on his knees, crying silent tears. “The paint’s finished,” he sobbed. […]

Micro fiction – They burn your birth-tree with you

Originally published on 7 September on ParagraphPlanet, this micro piece was written from a scene that popped into my mind one day. They burn your birth-tree with you when you die. Your ash would mix before being scattered by the ever-swirling-whispering-wailing wind. I always thought winter – that dark season – was the perfect time […]

Micro Fiction – “She watched from the bed”

She watched from the bed as the creeper slowly took over the wall and then the windows of the room. Spring rain hastened its growth and it twisted tendrils around burglar bars, stuck to glass, and made sure that only slivers of light filled with dust motes could enter the now darkened room. A robin […]