Friday Flash Fiction: Silver

25 01 2008

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By Neil Beynon

The room was dark. Thick acrid smoke clung to Caerwen’s nose and mouth; she coughed as she stepped over a sleeping body. Rhys, if she wasn’t mistaken. Lurking beneath the smoke was the sticky sweet smell of spilt mead.

“You’re Da is over there,” said a voice.

Caerwen forced her heart back into her chest. “I thought you’d gone home Brampt,” she said.

“I was just leaving when you came in,” said Brampt, emerging from the smoke. He was more like a creation of the pervasive mist with his lunatic wiry white hair and filthy grey clothing. But the pipe in his mouth uncloaked the lie. “Time was when my storytelling would have had them on the edge of their seats rather than sprawled on tables,” he continued, his eyes never leaving Caerwen, nor blinking in the smoke.

This post has moved. You can read the story here:


Friday Flash Fiction

25 01 2008

I am, somewhat predictably, going up to the wire this week.

There will be a story up in a few hours, in the meantime feel free to peruse the archive by clicking on the friday flash fiction link above.


Oh and it’s called Silver. It’s coming really soon.