A storm had rolled in from the channel to soak the last seconds of the century.
Cool air marks the final stretch between night and morning, the paleness of dawn beginning to show in the sky.
The conclusion to Will Miles' short story, An Exhibition
It was the middle of the night when Greta woke up, feeling as if an invisible weight was pressing down on her in bed; a bulky weight, far heavier than the skimpy blanket which covered her.
An excerpt from a novel-in-progress by Dennison Smith
The duck boards over the mud flats were precarious, just a collection of haphazardly placed planks stretching all the way from the rail track to the pumping station.
You’re walking around the lake. It’s a beautiful day. The sun is out, shining benevolently over the willow trees around the greenish flat water.
This extract is from 'Josephine Primitive' by Tom Raphael Eaves
The Destivelles come round to check everything is in working order. That’s what they tell Sophie, by email, two hours...
Her hostel did not offer breakfast, but it was saturday, which meant the Baptists parked their station wagons outside with toasters and Wonderbread and vats of sour, filtered coffee.