I followed my darling home tonight

I watched her climb the stairs

I watched the monster creeping behind

To catch her unawares

I watched as he crept behind my girl

I watched as he readied to pounce

But I was quicker, I caved in his head

And cast his body down

My darling turned, and saw, and screamed

“What did you do to my boyfriend?”

So she followed him down the stairs

I buried them both in the end.

Shortlisted/Breaking Down

I have an announcement to make everyone!  I’ve been shortlisted for a national short story competition for my story Breaking Down!  I can’t go into too many details yet about the competition but I’m really excited and just getting this far is so amazing!

Thanks to all of you who have read my writing in the past and also helped me with feedback and advice.  Thanks especially to my friend David who helped me with writing in  English and setting up my website.  You can see his blog here, he has recently won a competition for his story, Fracture which he kindly put up on his own website to read for free.

I’d also like to share a brief fragment of my story below, I hope you enjoy it!

Breaking Down

Her eyes followed him around the room as she swept the corners with her bristle brush.  Each time she bent over she could feel him watching, judging.

“You missed a bit.”

Cosy in his leather armchair, pipe in one hand, newspaper in the other.

“Make sure you get the cobwebs too.”

The worst part was the outfit.  This is what she wore before they met, in her old life.  Back in the days when there was no hope at all, just her surrogate family barking orders and tormenting her.  He was supposed to be everything she dreamed of.  Her ticket out of Hell.  Her prince.  She winced, her feet – the pain was growing.  She slid her left foot out of the glass slipper –

“No, don’t take them off.  That’s the best part.”





He didn’t give her a rose

He gave her a note instead

The note was scrawled in haste

And forever remained unread

She died that day in an accident

The driver was drunk and high

He got himself into a state

When his dream girl didn’t reply

He didn’t see the car

Until he climbed from the wreck

And found the girl he yearned for

With a twisted, broken neck.


Allow me to present my case

A bludgeoned face

A broken skull

A bloody trace

She knew him well

The cause of death

A mistimed step

A gift unwanted

Her final breath

Steams up the glass

He made her look

And scream, and gasp.


The Fan

“I really like your stuff,” the email started.  “I just want you to know that you’re incredibly talented.  Not only that, but you’re beautiful.  You are the sort of person I could see myself marrying.  We would look good together.  Ever since I saw you, I feel like it’s meant to be, just me and you.  We can make love together on my yacht, and I can take you to the most remote island and we can just stay there.  Forever.  I think about you,” the email continued, “every day.  I’m planning to get a tattoo.  It’s going to be your name.  What do you think?  I also enclosed a picture of me.  Let’s be friends at least.  I think you owe me that.  Did you know that I’ve been promoting your work online?  All those likes are because of me.  You should be grateful.  Why ignore me?  Why are you ignoring me?  We could have something special, but you’re just spitting on me like everyone else.  Just spitting on my corpse.  You’ll be sorry.  One day you’ll be sorry.  And they’ll find you in different places, cut up into chunks.”

He read back over it.  Too angry?  Chubby finger shaking.  Click SEND.

Later, when the police arrived at his apartment, they found him strung up from the beam in his ceiling.

The Playground

Bounce the ball

In the air

Watch it fall away

Discover you’re holding

A human head

Now it’s time to play.

Swing in the air

And back to earth

Scrape your feet on the ground

Onlookers cackle with great mirth

As the noose is wrapped around.

Tag, you’re it

Here’s my hand

You hold it just too long

Drops of blood speckle the sand

A blade to right a wrong.

Against the wall

You close your eyes

We’re playing hide and seek

The men with guns take aim and then –

You promised not to peek.

The Woods

When Daddy went into the woods

We thought he would never come back

His stumbling walk and slurring talk

And recent heart attack

He made it into the trees

Without tripping over himself

And as he disappeared

We toasted his good health

My mother cracked open a bottle

We had a party that night

When Daddy went into the woods

We drank until first light

We didn’t expect the door

To open again in the morning

We barely had five seconds

A screaming voice; our warning

He held a gun in his hand

And my sister’s hair in his other

She squirmed in his grip, he threatened to rip

Her head off in front of her mother

He took them both away

Into the upstairs room

And that’s when I ran, past his outstretched hand

A shot rang out in the gloom

When Daddy went into the woods

He carried my body in pieces

He buried me variously, often quite carelessly

Food for the birds and the beasties.


They found him playing in the road with his new toy.

A dead cat, mangled by multiple tyres, blood dried, face mushed into something unrecognisible.

They let him keep the cat because he screamed when they tried to take it from him.

He played with it every day for hours and hours, making up imaginary games, moving the creature’s limbs with all the skill of a puppeteer.  One paw in front of the other, the cat explored his new environment: a boy’s bedroom, full of exciting new objects. Train sets and action figures and his dead sister’s doll, a reminder.

On the fourth day he got ill. Alone in bed, shivering with some fever, shaking. They called the doctor but it was too late by then.

After the funeral, the father searched for the dead cat. When he finally found it, he could have sworn it was smiling.

Pregnant Again

She was pregnant again

At the age of fourteen

When teachers asked why

She said “living the dream”

She said “things are just fine”

And “I’m doing alright”

And “I think I’m coping”

And “my future’s still bright”

But early one morning

The school got a call

“She won’t be coming in today

She won’t be coming at all”

She couldn’t cope with the stress

So she went out into the night

Poured petrol all over her dress

And carefully set it alight

Neighbours caught it on camera

She burned like a funeral candle

Government took in the baby

To avoid another scandal

The press got hold of the story

They painted the girl as a devil

An abusive youth, a violent recluse

“Bad on a whole other level”

The service they held was short

And people spat on her grave

I came back at night and graffiti-ed her stone

I wrote “Here lies somebody brave.”

Dying To Meet You

The first date went very badly.

Exceptionally so.

In fact, Jenny mused as she watched them scrape Jonas off the pavement (bicycle helmet intact, skull not so much) it was probably the worst date she’d ever had.

Who stops to wave at their date in the middle of the street?

Especially when a truck is coming along.

Sipping her coffee, Jenny slid her phone out of her bag.  She’d taken a few photos (because who would believe her?) but now it was time to start the hunt afresh.  As the paramedics folded a PVC sheet over the mushy remains of her date, Jenny loaded up the dating app once more.