MicroFlashFiction - Short Stories and Experimental Narratives. '...my experimental approach to writing is suited to this medium...it's an odd kind of laughter sometimes...and it's always in the hidden places...(an ongoing series of) imaginative journeys into experimental fiction...' Writing Review, Q+A - 2024. Steve Coel
Small Fish - Steve Coel
Here -
Where...gilded barks sink into wild animal muddied path..
Where...small fish paper local canal..
Where...plastic scaffolding is blown off derelict shelter..
Where...threatened glance reveals suspicion of the new..
Where...bad health is assumed..
is the place language comes to die.
Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel
In the Corner - Steve Coel
In the corner of the local cafe sits the neighbourhood's old lady. She's here every day, her cups never empty and she's never charged.
Around midnight she'll often prowl out pointing and swearing at the passing cars as staff take it in turns, from a distance, to see her home safely.
Early morning they clear her corner, waiting for her inevitable return.
Glum Dance - Steve Coel
Here -
Where...slim concrete staircase funnels nervous jealous glance..
Where...starched wrinkled skin sticks to stretched bone..
Where...young people die old..
Where...unopened doors fade into peeling brick and small bottle yards..
Where...glum dance patters aggressively on fractured acre..
is the place language comes to die.
Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel
Traded Memory - Steve Coel
Here -
Where...dull flowers pilfer hedgerow litter..
Where...skin is scissored..
Where...memory is traded..
Where...new work jackets have missing buttons and broken zips..
Where...angry shadows are nailed on to walled in wasteland..
is the place language comes to die.
Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel
Rust on Cloth (2023)
Steve Coel
The Right Shadow
Grey when you're staying at Clink Hotel. Black when you returns home to no fixed address. Each casts the right shadow, makes you invisible. Makes you useful.
Spare Change for Twisted Feet
People you want, need, are always busy. That's why you end up in Clink Hotel. Every time.
Cracked Smile
Like two coins rubbed clear your cracked smile is a daily reminder of that last fight 30 years ago.
No Paths
Here; where young people never return and there are no paths and where old people still stop to watch lost cars, is the place language comes to die.
Rust on Cloth (2023), An 11.59 Publication
Grilled Walls - Steve Coel
Here -
Where...saw dust machine driving is echoed across water and back yard..
Where...rusting district wires hang bird mirage nested along defined grid route..
Where...illegal paper is scratched from power grilled wall and street light post..
Where...stained half lit drinking rooms spill simple ideas on to wooden floor..
Where...dry air cycle pavement dealing is fence chain bagged..
is the place language comes to die.
Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel
Grey Sky Weeping - Steve Coel
Here -
Where...isolation is frequently park benched behind littered garden..
Where...sweet song is car windowed..
Where...sprayed agenda becomes wire caged in overgrown broken side street..
Where...twisted knuckle bus stop waiting is grey sky weeping..
Where...gated steel business doors welcome alien van sacks..
is the place language comes to die.
Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel
Apple Canal - Steve Coel
Here -
Where...surface anger is scheduled for evening cycle ride..
Where...delivery boxed vandalism is slow hand clapped on coin free street corner..
Where...carded empty building sites play daytime tunes to passing tin drunk..
Where...scooters litter appled canal space..
Where...walking dogs is compulsory..
is the place language comes to die.
Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel
Cycling for Happiness - Steve Coel
In all fairness she must have expected the water to be pretty cold. It was early November after all and a long damp summer couldn't have been helping her to think clearly. But there you go, what can any of us do about it now?
Anyway, being short of money haddidn't stopped her taking them all away for the weekend, and I suppose she thought the break would do them all a bit of good. In what way though I'll never really be sure now I think about it.
She'd booked a side street B and B. So no thrills there then.
Thing is at that time of year all the rides on the front are boarded up for the winter and even the caffs are empty, so I guess the children must have been pretty miserable about it all. But as they say a change of scenery can put a lot out of your mind, even briefly.
Like I've heard that if a car were to drive on to your foot the adrenaline will give you the strength to pick the car up and save yourself. So I've heard.
Even so, no one's really sure where she got the strength from to disappear into water with her kids like that.
Born in the WorkHouse, An 11.59 Publication
Tin Meals - Steve Coel
Here -
Where...plastic council flags hang from disaster bins on forgotten streets..
Where...flakey advertising masks scripted brick..
Where...simple waves of the hand alert broken smiles..
Where...beggared tin meals are lined up as prizes outside filmed doorways..
Where...booted foot steps quickly retreat behind bottle sharp lunch time escape route..
is the place language comes to die.
Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel
Stretched Bone - Part 1
Here -
Where...voices falter and fingers strip lace and metal..
Where...oily shapes are squandered along collapsed kerb shopfront..
Where...dreams begin and life ends..
Where...old smiles are reflected in rust..
Where...ugly water washes up dead fish..
is the place language comes to die.
Stretched Bone - Part 2
Here -
Where...faded memory eats up roofless factory space..
Where...damp cloth pulled tight obscures fading gossip..
Where...cluttered twisted ornaments stride down sparrow allotment fenced path..
Where...for the cloth eared, movement is ghostly..
Where...warehouse beams trap steel smile and welded arm..
is the place language comes to die.
Half Stolen Buildings, Steve Coel
Rings on her Fingers - Steve Coel
And so it starts...
Two chases. At the same time..
Words spoken out of turn. Causes offence..
Everyone seeing signs that aren't really there.
First kiss of the day..
Protection. Hiding away is not an option..
Sitting next to the fire escape door facing the entrance..
Threats; the bad kind.
More to follow. Lots more..
The fight..
Looking the other way..
The arrests.
Bad debt, bad deals..
The rumours..
The quiet word..
Secret meetings.
A major disagreement..
Bloody hands and tip offs..
A one night stand..
Random warnings.
Smells of Time - Steve Coel
In you comes -
in your sad seven year old ironic tracksuit and pair of box fresh.
In you comes -
looking for deals on the bar board behind the counter.
In you comes -
doing quick sums and ordering a dozen shots with your release money which you quickly shares out to punters who aren't interested.
In you comes -
barely missed and completely blitzed, just another forgotten madman.
In you comes -
a madman bent by routine;
a madman twisted by addiction;
a madman caught in the to and fro of the outside which has turned its back and good riddance.
In you comes -
smelling of time.
