‘AN ISLAND FOR LOST ASTRONAUTS’
‘An Island For Lost Astronauts’ featured in issue 290/291 of Interzone.
‘The astronauts moved amongst us like captive angels. They wandered the islands of Rivertown, rootless and distracted, their movements snared by the effortless logic of gravity. As we fought for daily life on the outskirts of East City, the astronauts tuned through our hapless suffering, their expressions beatific, deranged and bereft. They rarely looked at the sky.’
‘captured dreams of the dead machine’
‘Captured Dreams of the Dead Machine’ featured in Issue 288 of Interzone
‘A client had once said to Ash that the past is a currency that never devalues. Out from East City, piloting a hover on a buying-run, those words returned to Ash like an implant meme that wouldn’t dismiss, like a stubborn hallucination of a dopamine dream.’
‘Frankie’ featured in Issue 285 of Interzone
‘After Frankie died, his shack in the woods became a sort of shrine. People travelled from all over the country to visit this place in the mountains to the south of our country, where he’d seen out the last of his days. Students and children camped outside on the grass, sleeping under light blankets, eating yellow broth cooked up in a pot over a fire. People read excerpts from Frankie’s work. A local band played.’
‘Dream of the High Mountain’
‘Dream of the High Mountain’ featured in Issue 284 of Interzone
‘A man in white djellaba crossing a high rise balcony. A view from a compound window in Tucson. Wagtails dying by the motorway. ‘My name is Mieko Tan. Welcome to my crazy world!!!’ The last spire of Venice slipping beneath the waves.
Not long into his stay in the retreat, Morgan realised where he’d first seen Elena Fisk. She sat near him at lunch: a tall, pale, gently muscular woman with sedate grey eyes behind narrow retro glasses, her black dreadlocks twisted into the shape of a tortured spider. She shared a table with another recent arrival, a Swedish man, who, during those first lonely days Morgan had entertained himself by imagining as a Scientology spy.’
‘A Pressed Red Flower In The Abandoned Archive’
‘A Pressed Red Flower In The Abandoned Archive’ featured in Issue 71 of Black Static
‘After returning from Indonesia, I found a short term research job with the Unit of Disaster Management, an obscure research unit located in offices outside of Waterloo. On a nine month contract, my duties were low level and banal, but gradually, as my work became appreciated and deadlines loomed, I moved onto more important projects. Proofreading and editing reports on anything from Islamist terrorist cells to coastal erosion in East Anglia, I was required to sign the official secrets act, a bond which, although I’m not sure how, I may now be breaking.’
‘When You Decided To Call’
‘When You Decided To Call’ featured in Issue 69 of Black Static.
‘When I was very young, my father told me stories of a cycling holiday he had taken in the Netherlands during his early twenties. One spring, a little after my thirtieth birthday, I took two weeks off work to follow his journey… Expressive as it was of a world before I was born, the landscape seemed an occult place to me, simultaneously fascinating and forbidding, like the realm of death.’
‘Acton Undream’ featured in the first issue of Black Static.
‘Bax once had a dream where Joseph Goebbels worked as the entertainer at a children’s birthday party. I have never forgotten it. At that time, the TV had packed in and the mother board on the computer was shot. Bax and I relied on each other’s dreams to pass the time.’
‘You Will Be wearing green’
‘You Will Be Wearing Green’ featured in issue 9 of the Crimewave series, published by TTA Press.
A gang of teenagers sat laughing around a mobile phone on the 18.17 out of Victoria, but Derek tried to ignore them. He concentrated on his paper, reading the front page story about a body found in woodland on the outskirts of the city, a young female student who had been missing for over a week.Beyond the train window, the interior of the station drained away, soon replaced by the steel-crossed view over the Thames.’
‘The Days We Lived Like Them’ featured in issue 45 of Brittle Star magazine
We moved to the suburbs, renting the ground floor of a Victorian terrace. A young couple shared the flat upstairs, but while my wife occasionally saw them in the communal hallway, in over three months I had never met them.
‘Park Rites’ featured in London Noir, edited by Cathi Unsworth and published by Serpent’s Tail (UK) and Akashic Books (US). Loosely based on true events, the story follows Enzo, a troubled teenager, as a walks around Clissold Park in North London. London Noir has been translated in French, Italian, Turkish, and Russian.
Subtle Edens: The Elastic Book of Slipstream
‘My Copy of Robinson‘ featured in the anthology of slipstream fiction, Subtle Edens. You can also read ‘My Copy of Robinson’ on my site.
‘I’d like to say that I discovered Robinson for myself, but as usual someone else had to show me the way. I seem to require jumpstarts like this to overcome the indolence, which seems to be my natural state. Alarmingly, as I grow older, I seem more in the grip of this laziness: a paralysis that is something like fear.’
‘A Reason For The Town’ featured on 3:AM Magazine.
‘When I came to the town, what struck me most was the large number of dwarfs. They seemed, really, to be everywhere: haggling in the aisles of food shops, holding hands underneath the coloured plastic awnings of the street market, sipping cans of lager upon the promenade. That such an insignificant coastal town could claim so many dwarfs amongst its citizens struck me as amazing and I struggled to account for it. Some nights, I closed my eyes and imagined a ship running aground, a cruel current, a winter storm. This was, perhaps, wrong. The dwarfs were not the outsiders, after all. I had only recently arrived.’
Read ‘A Reason For The Town’ here.
I’ve also published a few stories on my blog. I’m planning to make them available as a collection some time soon, but until then they’re all available below. Some have been rescued from obscurity from publications which have vanished, while some are just, well, obscure.