by A.G Conway | Dec 25, 2022 | Short Stories
My mum used to speak nineteen to the dozen, but since the stroke she’s turned into a vegetable and she don’t say much. Just flipping expressions, like ‘No use crying over spilled milk,’ and ‘It’s the straw that broke the camel’s back.’ When Molly went to see her she...
by A.G Conway | Mar 31, 2019 | Short Stories
We had to leave our house when it was hit by a bomb and grandma died. Ma was crying and we walked for a long time. I carried Dolly. Then we were squashed into a bus with a lot of people. It was very bumpy. I talked to Dolly. We looked out of the window together. Dolly...
by A.G Conway | Oct 11, 2017 | Short Stories
Please step into the waiting room, said the disembodied voice in a neutral tone. The door slid open, and Robert and Kate walked through it. The waiting area had synthetic leather sofas, and images of nature projected on to the walls. Please sit. Your case is now being...
