The Written Word Group

            I remember that I were walking home from the pub along the canal bank when I saw this bright light hanging over the water, so bright it was that I had to almost shut my eyes.   Something made me stop walking and I couldn’t move, I couldn’t even lift my arm to shield my eyes from the light.   That’s when I saw them, there was two of them, and they was standing on the towpath in front of me.   They had long spindly legs ending in feet like a cows, sort of hooves, they had rounded bodies and their heads was round as well.   I couldn’t see a mouth or nose but they had big round eyes, well they looked like eyes, but they was all blue and they was looking at me I felt that they was undressing me.   They had two arms, but didn’t have hands as we know them, they had like claws or pincers, just the two on the end of each arm; they was about five feet tall.         ...

            Look at ‘em all, gathered round my grave like wasps round an open jam jar.   Fifty per-cent I either didn’t know or hated their guts, the other fifty per-cent hated my guts, but one of those bastards murdered me, stopped me from breathing, bumped me off, finished my life, suddenly and completely; well not suddenly, but slowly, a bit at a time.   Was it in my early morning tea?   My breakfast?   If it was then it must have been that gold digging bitch of a wife of mine.   My drink of tea at work? Slowly poisoning me over time.           No subtlety in it, no treading softly least they crushed my dreams.   Just stetting out to rid the world of my earthly body the best way they could without bringing suspicion on themselves. And as for that eulogy, the bitch must have hired some out of work hack of an actor to spout all that bullshit about me; becau...

  “Dinner is in one hour. Get washed, put this on. And do something about your hair, you look a mess” Her eyes were struggling with the light. He was wearing a Christmas jumper, that's all she could make out before he left, locking the door behind him. She followed his orders and when finished, looked in the small broken mirror. The obligatory red lipstick looked hideous against her pale skin. The bruising was barely visible. She felt pain throughout her body, and her bones, ancient under her young skin, jutted out as a reminder. The door opened and he led her to the dining room. Small framed images of young women hung from an overloaded Christmas tree.  Their eyes followed her. “Stay alive” they silently pleaded. A perfectly cooked Turkey took centreplace on a table which was set for two.  He looked at her in disgust. “You’re a fucking mess”  He walked out muttering angrily. When he returned with more food, she moved quickly from behind the door, stabbing him in the...

  February 14th at 1.30pm The Kubatin, The Written Word Group are holding their 4th Open Mic event. This coincides with the group's 2nd year anniversary. So, show some love for your local writers and support us by attending;-) 500 WORD OPEN MIC THE KUBATIN HOSTAL MESON ARBOLEAS Friday February 14th starting at 1.30pm >>>4pm A fun event of Flash Fiction Short Stories & Poetry Have you a story to tell? Or do you just want to come and listen. All are welcome. Contact: 711040444 - To take part, or email: THEWRITTENWORDGROUP.ALBOX@GMAIL.COM Please contact us if you would like to read out a piece of your original work. Maximum 500 words. Entry is free.

            The local coroner carried out the post mortems on all the family and found the same cause of death.   At first he thought that Ground glass had been ingested which caused the stomach and intestines to rupture which in turn caused a massive internal bleeding, a very painful and slow death to the whole family except the mother who wasn’t showing any symptoms of internal bleeding.   However because so many people had died at the same time the Home Office coroner was called in and on further examination and investigation, plus a thorough search of the home; it was found that Brodifacoum, (trade name Havoc) a rat poison must have been ingested somehow, and this over the Christmas festivities.           The question was, how did the rat poison get into the families food chain?   Was it something they had eaten whilst out for a meal on Christmas Eve, or something they had...

  I remember too much, especially at times when I would prefer a peaceful mind. Like at night, when I am tired, glad to have the luxury of a warm comfortable bed. In the darkness my head fills with memories.  I momentarily forget that you are no longer here. I vow to send you the link to the new book I have read, and for the piece of music that I discovered on Spotify. I imagine your response, our telephone call when you would deliver your reaction so that it was detailed, specific. How many times you would say,” Fuckin’ hell girl” without even realising it, especially if you loved the music or the band. We would compare and reference bands of old, once again acknowledging the paths laid down by our heroes for all future musicians. We would talk about the films we watched and find ourselves in a passionate ballet of words, everything fitting together beautifully. When you weren’t drinking and food was once again a big part of your life, we would fill the air with the ingredien...