I love writing flash fiction. There is something about the brevity of it. A very short story that has to entertain you, get you involved in the characters and leave you with a twist, something to think or laugh about.
Ever wondered what it was like to be black and British in the 70s? Or who Zyanne might be? Maybe you share the fantasy of meeting Lenny Henry for coffee, or maybe you, too, have a thing for jazz musicians with brown eyes.
The Last Hut is a collection of 30 very short stories, mostly fictionalised memoirs, memories, dreams, journal entries, and stories, depicting life as a 70s teenager born to West Indian parents finding a way to grow up in multicultural Britain and beyond.
Download an extract from the book
and get yourself a copy
- Salman Rushdie
“Someone asked me if I was afraid to write my memoirs. I told him: ‘We have to stop drawing up accounts of fear! We live in a society in which people are allowed to tell their story, and that is what I do.”
Diane Corriette’s Latest Stories
I watch the bumper cars and listen to the 80s tune that blares out of the cheap speakers, distorting the words so you have no idea what’s being sung unless you happen to know the song. The sound is so loud that it makes conversation impossible. The music mixes and...read more
It rings out from empty pages and forgotten journals. It follows me as I watch TV and sit in the garden admiring the red of the robins chest. I want to do something about it but resistance grips me and another day goes by without a word written or a story shared. I...read more
I had never ridden a bicycle before but he dared me and I wasn't about to admit my failings to anyone, especially him. So what if I was a girl, I was older and taller than he was with a desperate need to prove I was equal. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t sat on a bike...read more
Julian watched the pot boil. He added a few onions and some more garlic before walking over to the large pile of chopped wood he had put together earlier. He picked up some of the larger pieces to add to the fire. He wanted to make sure there was no chance of the fire...read more
Roger McDonald lived his life with a clear understanding that nothing came from complaining about how bad life can be. Every morning he opened his carpet shop, one of four he owned, and greeted his customers not so much with a “can do” attitude but not with a “can’t...read more
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...read more
There are many ways to enjoy reading. How many ways do you read? That's the topic for today. Do you enjoy reading for pleasure? Do you find yourself reading while sitting at home in the company of a loved one? Will you using reading for relaxation? Do you enjoy...read more
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,...read more
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 they 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...read more