Drew Payne
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June 2014 Thomas could hear the music coming from the next room. People were still making their way into the ceremony room. On the other side of the door in front of him, he could hear them walking, talking, moving chairs. This was their big day, and there was no backing out of it now. He and Daniel were sat together, in the little anteroom, waiting for their wedding ceremony to begin, waiting to make their entrance. He glanced over at Daniel and saw Daniel’s tongue dart out of his mouth -
Thanks for you feedback, it means so much for me. I am so glad that this story resonated so much with you all. This story was inspired by a woman I onced looked after. She had Alzheimers Disease and was being looked after by her second husband, but she had forgotten who he was and called him by her first husband's name. The hurt look in that man's eyes when she did was horrible. The way this disease robs people of their memories is heart breaking.
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Eva was waiting for me, actually stood at the house’s front door when I arrived, that Friday evening. I had barely parked the car in the driveway when she rushed up to me. “He’s watching some crap on the television. I’ve left my new mobile number, his GP’s number and the District Nurses’ number on the front of the fridge. His pills are in the dosette box, on the top shelf of the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. The fridge is stocked up with meals for both of you, and I’ve left a set of keys
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I dropped the pile of dirty clothes in front of our washing machine, the underpants and tee-shirts spilling over the tiled floor. I crouched down and began to sort through them, mainly looking for a rogue pair of red underpants that had crept into this pale load of washing. I also wanted to check Dan’s clothes. Too often before he left important pieces of paper or even money behind in his pockets; they had gone through the washing machine and been ruined. So now I always checked all the pockets
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Thanks for both your feedback. I wrote this story to answer the question, does every relationship need to be of equals? The need to be needed is very strong, is it always wrong in relationships? I know there is a whole world going on with these two men, maybe I should return to them one day and explore more of their story.
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Thank you for all your comments and feedback. In my job, I have repeatedly seen how the difficult situation carers are put in and I wanted to write about some of that in this story.
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His mobile phone, still on silent, vibrated twice in his hand; it was an incoming text. John slipped it under the table and opened the text from Nathan. “Didn’t get the job ,” it read. John felt a moment of deflation. Nathan had been so right for that job, but this now meant that he was back to casual agency jobs, with all the stress and uncertainty that meant. He’d been so hoping Nathan would get this job, it would boost his confidence, but it wasn’t to be. He sighed to himself. He
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I don't know. Let me think about that. This story was originally written for a competition that had a 500 word limit. I need to have a think about it and what would happen to them, but afraid it won't be anytime soon. I busy writing a novella/short novel about a gay serial killer.
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I knew it was a mistake the moment the words were out of my mouth, but it was too late. I couldn’t catch hold of those words, as they raced through the air, and pull them back into my mouth, never to be spoken. “Will you marry me?” “Yes,” Megan replied, her face full of surprise and pleasure. Her expression filled me with guilt. This was the wrong thing to do, but it was what was expected of me, I knew. We were both eighteen then, but far younger in our shared naivety. We had met at
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Then It was the last time I saw him, standing alone in the centre of an airport lift as the doors closed on him. He was dressed casually, jeans and a white cotton shirt, his two suitcases at his feet. His dirty-blond hair was ruffled and unkempt, as if he had just tumbled out of bed, and the equally blond stubble covering his chin only added to that impression. He stared at me with those dark, intensely blue eyes, a small and sad smile on his face. As the lift doors closed he raise
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This is a collection of my flash fiction, stories looking at modern day gay life (and life from a few years ago). Each chapter is a different story. So sit back, put your feet up, and read some of my “case studies”.
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Thank you to everyone for your feedback. This was a fictional story but I am so happy it resounded with you, that means a lot to me. This is also an example of the type of story I like to write, the human impact of a subject or issue, and I hope to be publishing more stories soon(ish).
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Thanks for your comments. I based this story on other people's experience. I work as a nurse and this story came from watching what carers went through. I feel so much is expected of carers without asking them. Jaysalmn, I am sorry for what you went through, that must have been so hard and draining.
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His funeral was neatly planned, organised to run perfectly to schedule, but that’s what my sister could always do well, plan and organise something. The church was full; the only space left empty was the front pew, left for us “The Family”. There were people there I hadn’t seen in years, people he’d worked with decades ago, people whose faces I didn’t recognise, people who had certainly never visited him in his last years of life. My sister must have invited everyone he had ever known. But
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A funeral is the end of a life and the start of grieving for many of us. But what do you do when your emotions don’t fit into this? The narrator of this complete short story asks this question.
