flash fiction

Just Music… – Flash Fiction

This is a piece I recently wrote on a creative writing course.

Just Music…

Daniel lived inside his record player. This was a place in which he felt safe; a world in which he belonged.

Daniel did not fit in at home – and he certainly did not fit in at school. In the eyes of his classmates, Daniel was a weirdo; an oddball; the freak who lurked at the back of the classroom, headphones blaring.

The only place in which Daniel felt like he really belonged was his bedroom. He would lay on his bed, letting the sounds of Darkside of the Moon and Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band wash over him.

Daniel’s record player was an escape; a portal to another world; a world in which he was a part of something. No more small talk; no more excruciating eye-contact; no more awkward handshakes; no more social anxiety; just music…

children's short story, flash fiction

Daniel Crumpet – Children’s Flash Fiction

Daniel Crumpet

Many moons ago – in a time long before Facebook and Twitter and Selfie-Sticks – children did something called ‘reading’. But nowadays reading is considered to be a peculiar activity. These days, if you are seen to be reading a book rather than playing on a PlayStation or retweeting a picture of a cat wearing roller-skates, you are likely to be labelled a ‘weirdo’.

Daniel Crumpet loved to read. He spent hour after hour devouring book after book. Even when it was time to sleep, Daniel could be found reading by torchlight beneath his duvet.

Daniel had three favourite authors: Charles Dickens, Roald Dahl and Laurie Lee. His favourite Charles Dickens book was A Tale of Two Cities; his favourite Roald Dahl book was The Twits; and his favourite Laurie Lee book was Cider with Rosie.

Most of the children at Daniel’s school wanted to be footballers or popstars or celebrities when they grew up. But not Daniel. No! He wanted to be a writer.

A boy named Bradley Fitz (the most obnoxious kid in Daniel’s school) ridiculed Daniel for aspiring to be a writer. He claimed that only losers read books.

Twenty years later – on the verge of his third novel being published – Daniel Crumpet bumped into Bradley Fitz. Bradley had grown up to become a dustbin man.