The two boys stood side by side. Only a few centimetres separated them. Without turning, Simon spoke to his younger brother, “Hey, Michael, did you hear about the girls that disappeared here thirty years ago?” Each boy gazed at the brown water rippling beneath huge slabs of exposed stone. Green…

Remember those simpler times. Sitting on the bedroom floor, Lego strewn across the carpet, naked Action Man leaning against the Mega Drive. Two brothers gazing up at the 14 inch TV perched atop the chest of drawers. Neither of us able to get past Marble Zone for what feels like…

An aeroplane slowly tore away at a strip of white in the sky, ripping between the blue either side. Somehow we’d got on to the topic of moths. “Like the one on my leg the other day,” I said. “What?” he asked. “I was just lying on the park and…

Mum told us not to bother The Christmas Man. He wouldn’t leave his house all year, except for Christmas time — specifically, advent and the run up to Christmas. At the start of December, he’d cover his house with lights and even place glowing reindeer statues in his front garden…

I recall looking over the fence at my neighbour’s washing line. At the clean clothes hanging up there, drying in the sun. Well, I presume they were clean anyway. The line stretched lengthways across the garden, like ours did back then, reaching from a hook screwed into the brickwork of…

We were young and hot. Not a wisp of cloud above us. The usual cocktail of molecules, atmospheric junk, dust and general fluff which typically floated between us and the sun seemed absent, allowing solar rays to travel across space unfiltered; blasting the sand upon which lay our glistening bods…

Sarah’s heels smacked against the cobbled pavement with percussive pock sounds. Her conservative dress was smart, devoid of creases and the same colour as the sky that day: dark grey. Thick droplets of water descended from the clouds above, and the word “fuck” appeared in her mind; a clear image…

The knife swept my forearm. Yellow blood dripped through the sliced skin. I’d forgotten. They didn’t make ours red. I hadn’t bled in years. “You’re an abomination” she said, foaming at the mouth, teeth and blade shining, reflecting fluorescent lights. Her son, Mark, stood behind her. He looked strange. I…

“It was free!” the man opposite me exclaimed. No warning; an otherwise silent bus journey. “Can you believe it?” he continued, his index finger pointing at the shelving unit beside him. …