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#fridayflash

#fridayflash : London Nights

#fridayflash, Prose, Writing By June 14, 2013 Tags: , , 11 Comments

Jane hopes that she doesn’t meet Richard Curtis anytime soon. If she did, she’d tell him exactly what she thinks of his movies. Especially if it were raining when they met. Because Jane notices when it rains in London. Jeez, does anyone not? Yes. Looking at you, Andie MacDowell! Jane doesn’t think that having Hugh Grant’s character, or any other man for…

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#fridayflash : Society

#fridayflash, Writing By June 7, 2013 Tags: , 27 Comments

“No luck, mate?” “Nah, they won’t let me in. Confiscated my membership card, then said I don’t belong. Gits.” “I tell you that Society place used to be alright, you know, but it’s gone downhill. It’s got so they’ll only let a certain sort in, yeah? I remember going there all the time when I was younger. ‘Course it’s changed…

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#fridayflash : Stone’s Throw

#fridayflash, Writing By April 5, 2013 Tags: , , 7 Comments

I brought her back one last time. She liked the place, remembered it from her childhood, she said, or maybe when she was older, a teenager. I can’t remember. I glazed over every time she started to talk about the time before me. It can’t have been that interesting. She wasn’t. She weren’t much to look at neither. I can…

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#fridayflash : The Girl Who Lost the Plot

#fridayflash, Writing By March 8, 2013 Tags: , , 11 Comments

I heard women talking and tried to focus on what they were saying. “A most peculiar looking creature to be sure.” “Who is she, do you think?” “Foreign, of that there can be little doubt. It is not the fashion that a lady’s hair be cropped so close.” “And the clothes we found her in. Why! Little more than sacking.”…

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Gunilla and the Deer

#fridayflash, Writing By November 16, 2012 Tags: , 16 Comments

When the first mist ribbon had snaked its way out of the forest and wrapped itself around their Saab on the road from Gothenburg, he understood how you could feel at home in a place for the first time in his life. Like being on one of those paths that only last for a limited time in fairy tales, before…

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#fridayflash – Welcome to Potirissi

#fridayflash, Prose, Writing By May 18, 2012 Tags: , , 16 Comments

Efthalia noticed the changes on her walk to the market that day. The worst potholes in the road had been filled in with great clods of earth, grass, roots and all. She almost stumbled on its evenness. Cratered for as long as she could remember, she’d often found her way home through the ruts and swells of the road in…

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#fridayflash – The Man Who Was Eaten Away

#fridayflash, Prose, Writing By May 11, 2012 Tags: , , 13 Comments

“It’s over. I can’t see you anymore,” Lucy had said to him over the phone. “Not now it’s summer.” What does that have to do with anything?” he’d said to the dialling tone. He looked out of the window at the park opposite his flat and saw nothing but couples and families. He put his palm flat on the glass…

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#fridayflash – Doppelgänger

#fridayflash, Writing By May 4, 2012 Tags: , , 15 Comments

“Don’t I know you?” She’d heard him perfectly well but looked up and said, “I’m sorry?” He shifted in his seat. “I was just saying, I thought I knew you. You look familiar. I’m sure I’ve met you or seen you somewhere before…” She half-smiled, dipping her head down a fraction. “We have? You know, I can’t place you, sorry….

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Leaving Cleopatra

#fridayflash, Prose, Writing By November 12, 2010 Tags: , , 13 Comments

Cleopatra is insisting that I stay. She tells me that no one has ever left her before. Apparently, it’s just not done. I was hoping that she’d understand but when I told her she almost choked on the grape she was eating. We were having dinner at Caesar’s and it caused quite a scene. Men rushed over to her and…

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Skiouro and the Meltemi

#fridayflash, Prose, Writing By November 5, 2010 Tags: , , 23 Comments

Every time the wind changes, which is often here, Niko watches me from his spot on the rooftop wall. He lies there like a cat, flexing his feet and letting the sun warm his stomach, a cigarette resting between the index and middle fingers of his right hand. He watches me, waiting to see if, this time, the meltemi will pull me down to the harbour and out to sea again.

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