Category: micro-fiction

Whatever Happens at 4am

Somewhere in the fug of the night amid the din of the music and swaying bodies and narrow shafts of jagged white light that criss-cross and flash in fit inducing intermittence above the heads and across the sweaty walls, you walk with a stagger then a helpless dance, the beer in the bottle bouncing and splashing over the rim and onto the wrist, drum, thump, the masses in front and among blur in and out of four a.m. focus through eyes that fail to cope with a scene and a brain that’s lost and slow and too tired to...

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The Big Red Button

It appeared on the high street on a Wednesday morning; nobody knew where it came from. A red button atop a plain, black box. Above the button was a sign, upon which, written in bold, red capital letters were these words: DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE PRESS THE BUTTON Everybody pressed the button. For many, nothing more happened and their lives continued, albeit with a nagging and unshakeable sense of anticlimax. Others were not so lucky. Please follow and like...

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