December 2015 – the end – Worm by Simon Evans

Worm

by Simon Evans

This sorry tale all started when I went to Specsavers for a routine eye check. They found some sort of ‘shadow’ or ‘blemish’ or ‘scarring’ behind my left eye. The follow up appointment at the Eye Hospital involved no small amount of head scratching and reassuring vagueness. Ultimately I was told not to worry but that they had to keep an ‘eye’ on it (ha ha). The following year I was told that the shadow had grown and that there was ‘cause for concern’. During the months following this check-up I began to experience dizziness and occasional blurring of vision. A blind patch was appearing. My dreams were becoming more confused and vivid. I was worried.

October 2015 – new beginning – Ken Lee by Simon Evans

Ken Lee

by Simon Evans

Ken Lee sat in his favourite armchair; it was Christmas Day so he wore a purple paper crown on his old, grey head. At his feet sat his three daughters – Glenda, Rita and his youngest, prettiest daughter, Carol.

“Right you lot, I’m off to bed soon as I’m quite pissed. Whoever gives the best speech about how great I am and how much you love me will be given the last present – the doll’s house made of whale bone.”

August 2015 – climate change – Bob by Simon Evans

Bob

by Simon Evans

When I walked out of prison there was no one there to meet me. Mind you, I didn’t expect there to be. Not after what I did.

There was something rather refreshing though, something rejuvenating, about having a clean slate. Plus, I had no desire to see my own harrowing guilt looking back at me from the eyes of my so called nearest and dearest.

I had been planning my release day for some time. I intended to catch a random selection of buses to start my new life somewhere truly new to me. I caught a 41 bus from outside the prison and travelled one stop. There I caught a number 18 and travelled two stops. Then a number 24 took me three stops. I continued this process until I travelled seven stops on the number 8. I arrived, in light drizzle, in a dull town I had never been to or heard of. I was happy.

July 2015 – broken bones – Not Funny Anymore by Simon Evans

Not Funny Anymore

June 2015 – funeral pyre – Cockney Cops in Space by Simon Evans

Cockney Cops in Space

by Simon Evans

“Just because it’s the future, it don’t mean I can’t deal with fings my way, the old, tried and tested facking way,” screamed Jack Deeney, Cockney cop.

“You’re a dinosaur, Deeney. Shape up or shit off,” replied Brian McGiving, the sharp suited, younger but senior cop.

“You’re doing my facking swede in, McGiving. What you want me to do? Corner the Alien bastard and make ‘im a cup o’ tea? Give ‘im a bunch of bleedin’ roses?”

“Shape up, Deeney. You’ve got twenty four space hours to shape up, or you’ll be back on terra firma shovelling paperwork before you can say interplanetary transfer.”

“Fack orf”.

May 2015 – hedge bottom – Cold Calling by Simon Evans

Cold Calling

by Simon Evans

Nurinder Prassad tapped her desk gently with her pen as she listened to yet another ringing tone. When the answering machine message started she terminated the call and clicked on the next customer record on her screen. She glanced out of the window at the early evening traffic, the bleary lights and the endless drizzle.

“Hello,” snapped an impatient male voice.

Nurinder turned her attention quickly to her screen.

“Good evening, could I please speak with Mr Jeremy Brunt?”

“Jeremy Brunt speaking, who is this?”

“Hello Sir, my name is Nurinder Prassad and…”

“You’re who?! What the hell is this?”

March 2015 – beautiful feeling – Shot Lyffe by Simon Evans

Shot Lyffe

by Simon Evans

“All aboard the Hyundai!” exclaimed Jeremiah Ansah as he beckoned his sixteen year old son and his two friends into the family car. He wanted to be fun, to be funny, to be liked but his jollity was met with eye rolling and sullen mumbling from the three boys.

Jeremiah knew that their destination was the Export Arena in town and – as they set off – he attempted to discover more about the concert the boys were due to attend.

“So, who’s this Shot Lyffe then boys?”

All three boys sniggered.

February 2015 – high road – Wiseman Say by Simon Evans

Wiseman Say…

by Simon Evans

Amadeus Thinkrite slammed the door of his cabin with a fury, sending his wind chimes into a cacophonous, discordant jangle. He stood for a moment, looking down into the valley at the source of his anger. The wind blew his swept back blonde hair into a livid nest of yellow snakes. His icy blue eyes blazed as he looked upon the home of Roland Lim.

“Roland, you fucking turd.” He said to himself.

Amadeus set off towards the home of Roland Lim, fists clenched.

In the time it will take him to get there I will be able to tell you a bit more about Amadeus and the cause of his rather unpleasant mood and some more detail about Roland Lim, who lived at the bottom of the hill.

January 2015 – left alone – Parkway by Simon Evans

Parkway

by Simon Evans

When I became aware of my surroundings I realised that I had been left alone at a small train station. I say ‘left alone’ as there was no one in sight. I say ‘small train station’ as it was a one platform affair with a small station house. I was sat on a smooth wooden bench. I felt cold and overwhelmingly numb. The sky was white and heavy like an oppressive duvet. I stood and walked with difficulty down the platform. My limbs felt stiff. I then realised, as I took in my surroundings, that the station was in the midst of a huge railway intersection. Train tracks crisscrossed as far as the eye could see in an intricate patchwork. In the far distance I could see gigantic trains speeding to their destinations. They were huge – quite mammoth in proportions. The sound of their rumbling ebbed and flowed across the cool, thick, white air.

December 2014 – closed door – The Reunion by Simon Evans

The Reunion

by Simon Evans

Pretty much exactly two months after the birth of our first child my wife fell ill and died within nine weeks. During her short but devastating illness she experienced periods of intense pain. I will never forget the night when I awoke to find her gripping my arm and whispering the words ‘Kill me’ with intense urgency. I didn’t kill her, I could never do that. The illness took that particular task off my hands. At other times her pain would ebb and linger in the wings of her dying days. On these occasions we would lie in bed, cradling our son, as the warm spring breeze billowed the curtains. We both had an unerring belief in the afterlife, the spiritual world beyond mere physical existence. We would talk with certainty about how we wouldn’t be apart, not ever. “I will come back to you my love,” she would say.