Very Short Stories by Jack Spearing

Liquid Something about the reflections seemed odd. It turned out there was no water in the pond after all. It wouldn't take long to suffocate here, he thought. He went home the long way by the birch trees and wrote some more and ate his plastacine to see if it really was non-toxic. It tasted like the aftershave he had been drinking earlier. After the Bazaar "You look like a broken window" "You're right, I'm …

…face, without the skin, the eyes missing, the jaw slack and the mouth spurting black phlegm. All you can feel are your fingers being repeatedly slammed in car doors and drawers, your hair being pulled by a vicious primary school girl and the anticipation of shock and disgust. All you can smell is honeysuckle and burning hair. All you can say is "stop, Stop, STOP", and all your thoughts are of those you have betrayed.