Tag: Fiction
-
I am a moth pinned to cork and sealed away.
In this Poem a imprisoned moth dreams of freedom in the moon’s glow, a story of liberation and connection. 🌙✨
-
The Forever Pets of Truth – A Short Story by Conor.C
Everyone in town is talking about the sale at the pet store. The owner, ‘Truth’ as she likes to be know, positions her self as bit of a Seer. She tells you which of her many eccentric animals would be best for you, with the aim of creating life long bonds, naturally. Truth is many…
-
Disco Jones and the Feline Race – A Short Story by Conor.C
In a drunken stupor, Disco and Lenny sprinted down the high street. Disco’s blue jeans started falling, and Lenny fell flat on his face as he tried to point and laugh. Disco, also known as Danny, didn’t stop. His thick glasses acted as a bug screen as he continued his race. He ran down the…
-
Saved by a Star- A short story by Conor.C
I took a week of work, I collected my things and filed them properly. When I am found they will find the paperwork in order and they will thank me for my due diligence. That day they will go home to their families and their children faces will light up; their partners will say, “Your…
-
A Rescue on the Road – A Short Story by Conor.C
A cat sat in the middle of a busy road; his fur was brown with grey stripes. Its large doughy eyes stared at the enormous vehicle that had stopped in front of it. The right-hand side door swung open, and a larger man with a grease-stained white t-shirt climbed its ladder. When he reached the…
-
Grandad’s Visit
TW//alcoholism/Addiction “The flood came for all but the man with a boat; God told that man and his family that it’s the end of the world, he said save what you can, save who you care about. Violence is rarely committed by brave men. Brave men always find another way to settle their debts; they…
-
STUCK!
A Ginger cat with lighter stripes is perfectly difficult to spot in the autumn foliage. Butters has taken a liking to the large piles of leaves I’ve made clearing the back lawn, but this does take the cake. 60ft up in the oak my great granddad planted when he was a boy near the end of a…
-
The Night Train
On the night train, riding through the valleys of the tallest mountains, all were quiet as many ticket-paying, pyjama-wearing customers were sleeping. The night staff kept everyone tucked in and free from nightmares. The rowdy kids are asleep, like their parents; the rival rugby teams, who had spent the day screaming in each other’s faces…
Conor Cartmell 