Category Archives: Prose

Apparently drowning is the most euphoric way to die. The brain starves of oxygen and thinks back to every memory you’ve ever had – even ones you’d thought you’d forgotten – to see if there’s anything to save you.

Your back is up against the armrest like you’re pinned against the wall. You’ve crossed your legs, creating a barrier between us. It’s working.

On a cloudy morning in October Wilfrid Moore, of 72 Ambridge Road, turned into a Jellybaby. It was the most peculiar thing that had happened to him since the time he’d realised he’d been using denture cream as toothpaste for almost an entire month.

Bonnie knew what he was going to say before he said it. Call it fate, call it cosmic force, or dismiss it as a coincidence, Bonnie knew that in this precise moment two lives were changing.

You’d taken the seat next to me on the train. The conductor spoke through the sound system: expected delays. They’re doing what they can. They’ll keep us updated. There’s coffee available in carriage H.