He smiled

We stood on the doorstep, flames flickering behind us, and watched him walk away. He did not turn around.

‘Who was that?’ I looked at my mother. ‘Why did he smile and call me his?’

‘All in good time’, she said, her voice strange, and put her arm around me.

Life’s a beach

“Life’s a beach”. It was the third time she had walked past in that t-shirt and this time she was smiling. I twisted, waved and caught my hand in the sunbed. I looked down. Saw blood. Fainted. I woke up lying next to her. She had fainted too.

50-Word Fiction Competition for Scottish Book Trust