It’s National Flash Fiction Day here in the UK – and to celebrate, Flash Flood Journal is hosting its yearly, well, flood of flash. And my opportunely-themed story is one of the waves:
It would be best if we didn’t live here together any more.
You like the smell, that’s what you’ll miss. You like the smell of rot on the shore where we staggered to stay, the fumes off our mouldering tar boat huts, and the North Sea itself, cold and humid. A chill territory, a grey steppe with no heaven on any side, but everywhere to be gone. You would have taken longer to know it, if things had been different.
Stories will be coming all day long, on this longest day of the year, until Midnight, BST. I think the archive will be available over this next year though, should you be busy enjoying the extra hours – or, if you’re south of the equator, the brief light.
As you’ll be able to see, ‘The Drowned Sailors’ is another piece from Monstirs. Now I have to set myself the task of writing two-three flash for a reading I’m giving at an event in Glasgow on the 1st of July. The theme is wilderness, and the big night will revolve around film as well as stories and other wonders. I will be sitting today enveloped in memories of Banff, November to December last year. More details here about the night, when I have the work ready and feel a little more prepared myself.