Category: Fiction
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The Lost Things
Almost a year ago, I introduced you to my book, The Lost Things. Some were interested enough to get monthly instalments of the story. That’s done now, so I’ve released the entire book on Amazon for you all. While a tantalising chapter with a cliffhanger ending might do it for some, I have learnt that…
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On the inside, looking out
There she was again, just like countless times before. Buckled in, stuck in, and no way of getting out. She could look out, though, from her prison, her life. Look out, and either go over the day she’d planned, or… What’s that? A bird flying too high? A bit of the plane? She pressed herself…
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By the river
He had no idea why he was there, or how he had got to that place. He’d been there before, but not with these people. He prided himself on his independence, on his inscrutability. But not with them. They were able to unlock something in him that he liked keeping shut. “Smile”. He made…
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Saiorse
In a dingy North Belfast kitchen, a nine year old girl is making up a bundle. From her practised movements, you can tell she has done this before. But still her fingers are trembling. She butters two pieces of bread, taking care not to tear them with the hardened butter and knife. She breathes through…
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The BMW driver
He’s a sharp dresser – tailored navy suits, thickly knotted ties, chunky cuff-links and shined shoes. He drives past me every morning in a streamlined silver BMW on his way to work; at least I assume that’s where he is going. Most likely a banker, too slick to be a medic and not sharp-featured enough…
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The yummy mummy
She cries in the shower most mornings, before the baby is awake. Once out, she dries her tears off, buttons smart clothes over her sadness, and paints a love-filled marriage over her gaunt, bruised features. Taking a deep breath, she breezes through the chaotic opening scene of her day as a mother, barely noticing any…
Ruth Writes 