A short story imagining how the 'fantasy dinner party game' would play out in real life.
The day I conquered Bloomsbury.
This is a short story resurrected from my first year of uni. It ought to work as a map of Bloomsbury.
Protected: based on the dream I had last night.
There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.
I found this note on my phone and don’t remember writing it.
Voicemail. The stage is dim. A suitcase stands by the sofa. The voicemail machine light flashes red on the cabinet. The clock on the back wall indicates 10:35pm. Offstage a door is unlocked, opened then slammed. The upstage door opens. Enter DECLAN, limply holding a dangling rose bouquet. and dragging a suitcase. He throws the... Continue Reading →
Late Romantic 