He couldn't understand why they called him brilliant and when he was offered a Nobel prize, he declined. It made him sad to think they'd heap praise on him for a formula that calculated the end of existence. Brilliant? he thought, no thanks, I would so much rather fade away.


Guest writer vibe, Rocco Terrinoni and Conor Stephens. Spontaneous, uninterrupted prose from two young lads with talent . Here's what I said, write me a story. Five minutes later they gave me an answer. It sizzles, it pops, it skin burns like a roasting chimney. Mum burns the sausages to crisp, my brother shouts but…Read more BARBECUE


  His movements were never co-ordinate, he knew, yet hated the word awkward. When he moved, he crashed and in a confined space, he wreaked havoc. He loved to watch the swimmers, not their funny suits or the uniform caps, no, they could synchronize . With this illness, he could only cry.  


  He liked to walk fast and his gait, like himself, was long and gangly. He moved fast and could never bear to dawdle so much so he preferred to make arrangements to rendezvous for fear his awkward impatience might cause fault or disturbance. He was resigned and could never amble.


  Everything was prepared, the score commissioned, the ranks of strings, brass, woodwind and percussion, assembled, even a singer found for the brief cantata in the first movement. She had him wheeled in, his broken body propped by stays. 'What's this?' 'Your symphony.' 'Symphony? Are you deaf? I asked for sympathy.' Photo: Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra…Read more SYMPHONY


  Everyone knows them, sees them daily; checking their hair or hairline, never making eye contact, too busy with their phone or checking themselves out in the reflection of the shop window or the mirror behind your ear, over your shoulder. People say, 'if they were a lollipop, they'd lick themselves.

DISASTROUS – Daily Post Prompt

Four sheets to the wind, dressing quickly, grabs the first shirt he can find in the crumpled heap in the corner. Next, trousers, socks and his only pair of shoes, are under the bed. Finally, his jacket is where he left it, behind the door. For a funeral though, disastrous.