Good for the Garden

“Good for the garden, my father says.

His skin prickles, raindrops on the window reflecting his anxiety.

Good for your father, my mother says. Behind his back, whispering it to me as we watch him fidget.”

My story, “Good for the Garden” can be found over at Ellipsis Zine.

http://www.ellipsiszine.com/good-for-the-garden-by-paul-thompson/

Pool Party

“She reaches the house at dusk, unfashionably late for the party.

The venue is illuminated and noisy. As she approaches the front door a cocktail glass is thrown from above, shattering on the driveway behind her. Laughter comes from the rooftop terrace, followed by further objects that all miss her as she walks.”

My story, “Pool Party” can be found over at The Cabinet Of Heed.

https://cabinetofheed.com/2018/02/01/pool-party-paul-thompson/

In The Shadow of the Sound Tower

“The sound tower is silent, abandoned in the dunes, windswept and dated. Conditions are calm, nullifying its function. On still days like these, the tower finds itself a relic.”

My story, “In The Shadow of the Sound Tower” can be found over at The Cabinet Of Heed.

In The Shadow of the Sound Tower – Paul Thompson 

Featured

We all have the best of intentions

We all have the best of intentions. Like these teenagers in the park, holding a silver balloon. On it, the words RIP Dad. You can’t release that here, someone says, it’s not biodegradable. It is a middle aged man, dressed in running gear. They argue as he tries to take it from them. In the struggle the balloon bursts, ashes exploding into their eyes and mouths, scattering up into the air and across the city.

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This 75-word story first appeared on Paragraph Planet

A list of things I cannot hear

A list of things I cannot hear. All because of the tinnitus, the high frequency noise that whistles in my ears. I am oblivious to crickets in the wildflower. The hiss of our central heating. Dripping taps in other rooms. The hum of anything electrical. Chinese whispers passed on by children. Interference on the radio. The early signs of a storm. And late at night, consumed by these lists, I can barely hear myself think.

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This 75-word story first appeared on Paragraph Planet

Featured

Ninety-five percent of my anxieties are unfounded

Ninety-five percent of my anxieties are unfounded. She tells me at our weekly breakfast. To focus on the genuine five percent. The following week I do so, spending ninety-five percent of my time on it. When we meet again, I know ninety-five percent of my anxieties are founded. Focus on the new five percent, she says. And so it goes on, worrying about worrying, and how to tell her I no longer enjoy our breakfasts.

***

This 75-word story first appeared on Paragraph Planet

A sad face appears at the window

A sad face appears at the window. On the first day of spring, sunlight highlighting the
dirty glass, revealing a face in the dust. Thumbprints for eyes, a grin drawn with a smear, the unmistakable work of a child. He examines the face, his nose almost touching. His past self would yell, and tidy up behind them, but today he leaves the window filthy, as he did last year, and the many summers before it.

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This 75-word story first appeared on Paragraph Planet