Short Story Sunday: Ice in Winter [Part Three]

Short Story Sunday: Ice in Winter [Part Two]

The drive to Audrey’s studio should not have taken them longer than twelve minutes, according to the GPS, but Lauffett was insisting on nailing the cop experience with a coffee and doughnut combo from the drive-thru. Neville was reminded of why, in the movies, the best police work is mostly done alone. He also got to see a side of Lauffett that he didn’t like: his penchant for singing along to Céline Dion songs on his mp3 player. If he had to hear another rendition of My Heart Will Go On, he thought he might vomit. No man should hit notes that high. And no man should have to listen to his colleague hit notes that high.

Short Story Sunday: Ice in Winter [Part One]

The office was buzzing with cops trying to outdo each other in a race against the clock. The brief was simple: find the funniest cat video on YouTube and share it before anyone else had the chance. Neville was using his detective skills to home in on a clip of a feline appearing to say “Why me?” when his boss thwacked a folder onto his desk.

Short Story Sunday: The Daughters of Lilith

Neville stood in front of a canvas which appeared to have been on the receiving end of so-called artistic angst: the smears disagreed with one another as much as the wine he was holding disagreed with his pesto pasta lunch. If only he’d known what the colours were; one could hardly appreciate art if one was “insensitive to red and green”, as the doctor said. He sipped the Shiraz.

Short Story Sunday: Alone in the Universe

The radio was perched on the windowsill and echoed the presenter's voice against the tiles. Erica rested her head on the clam pillow she used in the bath and made a mental note to inflate it again before next time.