Short fiction: A mountain with a funeral smile

Short fiction: A mountain with a funeral smile

There’s a tender stillness, a blessed inertia, as we watch each other. Again, he tries to make himself remember something he’ll inevitably forget. Again, I try to believe that this time, he’ll manage it. We both know we’re lying to ourselves, but we let it happen.

Short fiction: Today, in case you didn't know

Short fiction: Today, in case you didn’t know

I would give you half my body if I could, for all it’s worth. I would rip it apart with my bare hands and carry it to you in a heart shaped box or a cut glass coffin or bleeding through my fingers.

Short fiction: The latest becoming of Death

Short fiction: The latest becoming of Death

Sometimes it feels like we’re the only ones who really see each other. Inevitable and invisible. They look at anything but us. We have those kind of faces. The face of a clock, the face of the light they see at the end. Or what they imagine is the end. Whatever.

Short fiction: Sketch of a modern-day Odin

A rough and ready contemporary reimagining of an urban gangster All Father.

Evidence, Omerta. Flash fiction by Tanya Simone Simpson.

Short fiction: Evidence, omerta

The blood was warm through my fingers, over my hands, soaking my clothes. All my own blood for a change.

Cigarettes as a metaphor for heartbreak. Flash fiction by Tanya Simone Simpson.

Short fiction: Cigarettes as a metaphor for heartbreak

One month ago, I stood next to my car with you, experiencing the dawning realisation that this was going nowhere.

Spark. Flash fiction by Tanya Simone Simpson.

Short fiction: Spark

And in the end, it all came back to energy. Kilojoules, calories, newtons, lumens, decibels, volts...mostly volts.

Heartbled and soulrisen. Flash fiction by Tanya Simone Simpson.

Short fiction: Heartbled and soulrisen

I think an airport is the only place where it’s socially acceptable to drink at seven o’clock on a Tuesday morning.

To Mother's farm. Flash fiction by Tanya Simone Simpson.

Short fiction: To Mother’s farm

Believe it or not, this is absolutely not how I intended to spend my evening, but when it came down to it either he was going to get to keep breathing or I was, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be him.

The Mariana Trench and Everest. Flash fiction by Tanya Simone Simpson.

Short fiction: The Mariana Trench and Everest

I had begun to understand height after travelling in an aeroplane for the first time the year before, but I had no concept of depth.