Every morning, I get up before dawn to make coffee and saunter to either the bench under the apple tree or to the conservatory when it's either cold or when it rains. When I choose the conservatory, I usually open the doors to let the sound and smells of the garden into the house, unless it's really cold. That feels...

The clock couldn't move fast enough. My best friend was due in ten minutes, and I'd been ready for almost an hour. An hour and twenty minutes. I was bloody pathetic. Finally, the door flew open, and Max's voice blustered, "Victor! Where are you?" I leapt off the sofa and ran to the front door. "Here, buffoon!" We...

I’ve had a new neighbour for over a month now and I think she’s struggling with something. She wanders around the garden and inside the house, holding a book and muttering to herself. I just want to make something nice for her and leave it at her door. You might think, Tom, why don’t you just talk to her? Well, there’s...

I was busy clearing out a cupboard in the living room when I found a package hidden in the back of the bottom shelf. It was wrapped with a string of rope, and something was written on the front. I squinted to read my aunt’s chicken scribbles. *this is a lovely painting but I hate it so much now I’ve seen the stupid cow...

I study the book with a frown, stare at the stack of trays before me, and look at the book again. I mumble, "Plant six trays each of chamomile, basil, lavender and thyme. The rest of the herbs in the basket need only two trays each. Make sure you set them into the greenhouse alternating, and to keep the trays with...

this story is set in the same world as the first one in the challenge I lay awake in the middle of the night, the light on my nightstand just bright enough to read. My book rested in my lap, though, I was too busy staring at the battered ceiling above me, worried the torrential rain would hammer through the thatched...

I woke up a couple of minutes before my alarm and yawned and stretched. I inhaled like someone hovering over a cup of fresh brew. Something was different. I put on my robe and opened the curtains of the cottage that was my home since the heart of winter. I gazed into the garden with my mouth sagged open. Overnight, the...

I was recently lamenting the fact that my writing is the one thing suffering still after my diagnosis almost two years ago. I just can't sit down and write fiction like I used to. And I'm sick of that fact, I miss it. So, I'm setting myself a writing challenge. I want to write fiction again, and I will start with...