This week’s flash fiction must be in text form and quite brief, I’m afraid. The podcast takes a while to do and I’d like to concentrate on the current novel. If you’re subscribed to the podcast, then (i) why not let me know? and (ii) don’t worry, the hiatus should be brief.
This week’s flash, called ‘Cat’, inspired by my adopted gerbil:
The kitchen sink has not been cleaned, though the dishes are regimented: dripping, the rank and file wait on a plastic slope. The bin is full. Newer items of rubbish have been placed next to it with a curious sense of the neat. A left shoe is on the doormat. It was not delivered. Toe-nail clippings season the lid of the downstairs loo. There is a science fiction magazine — Interzone — open on the lowest riser of the stairs. A cat, Mandy, stops on the Interzone to wash her face. She has not been fed but she has so far maintained her indifference. She can keep herself neat too. There is a cooling body in the living room, lacking a left shoe. Mandy settles on the chest for a second night. She might see something in the shadows as they stretch and darken. She might not.