Short Story #13: Shame

The office was small and cluttered, with filing cabinets topped with folders and papers lining both walls. At the far end of one row stood a sorry looking plant. Every long, thin leaf but one was brown and wilting. Professor Akshan sat behind a large wooden desk, reading by a banker’s desk lamp, and behind the Professor’s chair was a grubby second floor window that let in a dirty orange light from a street lamp below. 

The Professor had a shock of long white hair and was wearing a dark brown tweed jacket. When Jamie entered, he was absorbed in reading a loosely stapled document.

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A Poem About Blogging

Some context: at the time this was written, there was a lot of arguments in the travel blogging world about whether or not travel blogging had ‘lost it’s soul’ through blogger’s partnerships with sponsors and so on. Some people have very strong views about this.

When I went for a walk
To find blogging’s soul
Where I thought it should be
Was a deep dark hole!

I called out: “Hello!”
The hole was so deep
And I listened intently
But heard not a peep.

“Where is the soul?”
I said to myself.
And looked all around me
For somebody else.

But I was alone,
Alone by the hole.
The hole that once held
Every blog’s soul.

I sucked up my courage;
I tried to be brave.
“I suppose I should enter
That deep, dark cave.”

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Short Story #12: The Hostel

When Maggie Mathews’ husband died, she had no idea what she was going to do. They had owned a small flower shop near Withington Road but he had always taken care of the day-to-day running of the shop and she had been in charge of the business side. She was a strong woman but the loss of her husband hit her hard and she found running the shop too much in her grief. The debts mounted and she found that she did not enjoy dealing with customers like her husband had and eventually decided to shut the shop.

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Short Story #10: The Interrogation

“On your feet, pirate!”

Jay, lying on the metal plank that constituted his bunk in the small cell, turned his head for a moment to look at the man who had barked the order. Unimpressed, he turned back and continued to study the ceiling, his hands cuffed together in front of him.

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