Toilet humour in the most literal sense, Cleaning the Dark was a fantasy parody  featured in “It’s A Living”, a 2018 anthology of fantasy stories based on the idea of high-fantasy characters with ordinary jobs. 

Blood makes me queasy, so I tried not to look at the corpse, but it was my first day on the job, and my duty was to hold the lantern. The elf-mage’s robes were clean but she was days dead and starting to bloa...

This first foray into straight horror ended up far more disturbing than anticipated. A visceral mix of Bret Easton Ellis and Dennis Wheatley.  Reader discretion is advised.

Fifty inch wheels slap the tarmac and the airliner slews to the right as the pilot hits the brakes hard. A child in economy squeals in terror. Frequent Flyers’ mouth splits wide into a perfect smile. Wrapped in the silk cocoon of his favourite sleep mas...

“It was a dark and stormy night.”  Sir stopped reading, and crushed Smedley’s essay into a ball.  We shifted in our seats and waited for the throw.

No joking, Sir is a wicked shot.  Last week he hit B-Boy between the eyebrows with a stapler from across the room and knocked him out of his chair.  That was because B-Boy had called Shakespeare a paedo.  When B-Boy got up, Sir explained that fourteen was normal back in th...

“Selfishness is not living as one wishes to live, it is asking others to live as one wishes to live.” – Oscar Wilde.

It would have to be a fox.  A rat wouldn’t impress anyone, not after Roberto had managed to run over a pigeon with his bicycle.  At last month’s meeting he’d produced the feathery mess from a plastic bag sewn inside his trouser leg.  The bastard hadn’t had to buy a drink all night. 

A man in a...

Suddenly aware of the darkness of my bedroom, I first assumed the hoot of an owl, or perhaps the clatter of a fox worrying at the bins. It was only upon its repetition that I comprehended the horrible moaning which had awoken me. I threw aside my quilt, made my way to the bathroom and wiped the condensation from the window. Exactly as I had suspected, the slave-trees in Mr P-’s front garden were making a nuisance of themselves...