by Diane Corriette | May 22, 2014 | Flash Fiction
We were always running. My mum and me. Packing up what few belongs we had and moving in a new direction. No particular place. Just moving. I was never sure who or what we were running from but no sooner had we settled and no sooner had I made a few friends, and we...
by Diane Corriette | Feb 23, 2014 | Flash Fiction
In reply to Cultured Life’s Saturday Shelfie (love that name!) I thought I would share what I have been reading all day today. It is a magazine (more like a book to me) published by the University of Chester called Flash, The International Short-Short Story...
by Diane Corriette | Jan 14, 2014 | Flash Fiction
He was given his first guitar when he was four years old. It was green, plastic, with no strings; still it obsessed him. It played tunes when buttons were pressed but it was limited. Guitar lessons started age eight, after his father bought him a ‘grown up’ guitar,...
by Diane Corriette | Jan 7, 2014 | Flash Fiction
The room is silent. She is thinking about what to say and how to justify the last ten years of living a lie. Twenty four hours ago we were fairly happy. Sex two or three times a week, pizza night on Tuesday, date night every two weeks and game night once a month with...
by Diane Corriette | Dec 27, 2013 | Flash Fiction
Jenny was young and easily influenced by what people may say about the things she did and the way she dressed. She often wondered why she never fit in and her brothers teased her about not being normal, un-normal they called her, because of the way she behaved. They...
by Diane Corriette | Dec 23, 2013 | Flash Fiction
‘I had an experience of real self-love this morning.’ I’m on the phone, as usual, talking with my best friend Gina. ‘Really?’ she asks half listening. ‘Yeah, I was standing in front of the mirror naked and I bent over to pick up my bra after dropping it. I looked...
