Inside My Head – 99-word story

“Have you noticed something about all of your stories?”

“Eh, who said that?”

“I did. Well, you did really, seeing as I’m the voice of your inner head.”

“My inner head?”

“Yeah, the inner one. The one that comes up with the good stuff. The one that ignores the cat videos, and memes about Game of Thrones.”

“But I like-”

“I know you do. I’m you, dumbass.”


“So… have you noticed something about your stories?”

“You mean like how they’re all wonderful flights of imagination and fancy?”

“Inner head lies. Sorry. I meant, how they lack dialogue.”




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99-word story – Rush

It had started with the small stuff, little baggies tightly wrapped to give you a taste. They’re just the gateway to the hard stuff, where your miserable dealer ramps up the price because they know you’ll do just about anything for your fix.

You feel the call, the throb, imagining the sickly-sweet touch on the tongue, the rush as it hits that sweet spot, the emptiness as all other thoughts leave your head, and there’s nothing but the tide roaring through you…

Mike snuck down the alleyway, tearing the wrapper off the dark chocolate bar. He had a problem…


Postscript – I wrote this story yesterday. Today, in my news feed on FB, this story came up. Truth and fiction, eh? 



99 word story – The Farmhouse

After several years in the beautiful, isolated farmhouse, the number of running home repairs reached a critical point. Gregory Goodman couldn’t ignore them,  or the disapproving looks from his wife, any longer. Sighing, he demolished the bedroom wardrobe with a lumphammer, chunks of old plaster crumbling everywhere. When the dust finally settled, there behind the wardrobe, beneath a thin coating of plaster dust, was an ancient, heavy, dark door.

A rusty key hung from the lock, invitingly.

Gregory wasted no time.

He boarded up the door, re-plastered, and hoovered, before his wife came home.

Gregory was lazy.

Not stupid.



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99 word story – The Scam

“Hello! My name is George Goodyear, and I represent the estate of my grandfather, a successful businessman. I am emailing you…”

Fitz hit delete. Honestly, why do they bother? Always the same ridiculous situation, always just after your credit card details…

Meanwhile, in a palace in Nigeria, the ever-generous George Goodyear shook his head. He never imagined how difficult, nay impossible, it would be to give away his grandfather’s considerable fortune. Maybe he should invest it instead, try to do more good.

His inbox pinged.

“Investment scheme – make quick money. Guaranteed!”

Hmm, thought George. Maybe this is the answer…



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99 word story – The Bird

This happened this morning. Every word is true.

On a cold, damp, May morning, my son and I were walking to the school breakfast club. There’s a serenity to that hour that the day erodes, bit by bit, as the noise seeps in. We crossed the empty road, hand-in-hand, and both stepped aside instinctively as a black shape fluttered out into the centre of the road, and disappeared.

“Dad, did you see that bird’s shadow?” he said, wide-eyed and innocent.

I looked up at the brooding grey sky above, the lack of any street lighting, or lights from houses, or cars…

“Yes, son,” I said, and gripped his hand.



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99-word story – Magick

Magic is all around us. Really, it’s everywhere.

Earth Magick inhabits the trees, the soil, the water, spreading through roots and into the very air we breathe. We feel its nip on frosty mornings, its fire in blazing sunsets, hear its call by babbling brooks.

Blood Magick resides in all the creatures of the realm, from lowliest to mightiest, pulsing with each heartbeat, coursing through veins and distended bloodways. Blood Magick is life, is vitality, the ruddy cheeks of health.

It’s the gentle blossoming of love itself.

So why did I have to go and mess with Shadow Magick?



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99-word story – The Woman on the Train

Staring absent-mindedly out of the train window, Jasmine sighs with all of her body. Arms crossed loosely, her fingers tap out an occasional beat upon her smooth arms, before brushing a mousy brown hair away from her face. A wry smile flickers, and is bitten away. She pulls her i-phone from her bag, fingers sliding deftly over the screen, looking up now and again. Another bite. Long exhale. Coming to a decision, she places the phone face down on the table, straightening the sweet disorder of her floral summer dress.

The stranger opposite smiled to himself.

He’d found her.