Welcome to my world of short stories.
These brief tales offer an escape from the everyday — capturing the quiet beauty of relationships, fleeting moments and human connection. Perfect for a quick read with your morning coffee or before bed. Dive in and enjoy these little windows into life.
You can also learn more about me or peek into the blue room where my stories often begin.
The garden chair sat unfolded in the eye of the mid-morning sun.
It longed to bear someone’s weight. The youngest, limbs tucked in, podgy fists pattering against its arm. Or the older one, sprawling, giggling, impossible to contain. Or the dad, settling with the weekend paper. Or the mum, back curved gently, coffee in hand. Decaf. She was expecting again.
But they were all still inside.
The chair was forgotten—for now.
A small robin landed on its arm and tilted its head, as if to say, I know how you feel.
Inside, coffee brewed. The mum and dad stood side by side, peering at the family wall planner for a blank square. The months ahead looked full and yet also unreadable. Their pencilled notes stacked across it like scaffolding: scans, school trips, plays, swimming lessons. Life added itself in shorthand squiggles and smudges.
She moved to make toast. It was a wonder there was still space left—on the calendar, in the house, in herself—for another baby.
The toast scent drifted out the open patio door with the breeze. The chair held it close. It had learned to hold many things—laughter, comfort, crumbs of celebration and the imprint of a lost presence. A gift once given, now a memory that settled deep in the fabric. Faithful as ever. Ready to hold whatever needed holding next.
‘Have some time. Have some space.’ Mark, her boss, had instructed on that initial dreadful day – without her husband, with grief – when she sat sobbing uncontrollably on the kitchen floor, phone pressed steady to one ear whilst the rest of her body shook.
That same week her doctor had said something similar as she processed Jenny’s first sick note.
How much to have of each though? Time and space were infinite.
Grief consumes Jenny as she struggles with a sudden death, causing her world to become increasingly surreal, where time and space seem to distort around her.
Published by Every Day Fiction, click here to read full story.
“Move along, Sally instructed silently, teeth clenched. Her drenched maternity trousers stuck to her like clingfilm, her huge belly tightening and expanding over the elasticated waistband. Her hair starting to mat itself to her perspiring forehead. She pictured herself as the enormous turnip from the children’s tale, needing to be heaved by medical staff to move her from this spot, and wished she could hide behind the well until this was all over.”
Sally is heavily pregnant and overdue when her daily walk by an ancient well, storied to have healing waters, takes an unexpected twist.
Published by Every Day Fiction, click here to read.
“Shall we go outside, Max? I need some air. I could have killed someone just now. I was so angry I wasn’t paying attention. This is a nightmare. Sometimes I think I’m going to drown in my own grief.”
Ex-pro swimmer, Leah, helps a young girl overcome her fear of water and learn to swim. In doing so, Leah moves away from swimming in her own grief at being newly bereaved.
First published by Fairlight Books, click here to read.
“The January joggers were still out in force in March this year, collectively escaping the monotony of lockdown which had itself been described as a marathon and not a sprint.”
Chloe is addicted to buying shoes, whilst inadvertently making colleagues redundant. Jon, now redundant, is increasingly escaping into alcoholism. Their stories start to overlap as they tackle their lockdown demons.
First published by Fairlight Books, click here to read.
Becky Jones 