Fiction Tiny Stories
The Bookshop Chair Nobody Owns
There is one armchair in the shop, in the corner by the poetry, and thirty years of customers have worked out the rules without anyone writing them down.
Fiction — invented for fun
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Tiny Stories
Four-paragraph fiction about strange small lives.
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Fiction Tiny Stories
The Letterbox at the End of the Lane
It was decommissioned in 1998 and sealed with a metal plate, and people have been posting letters into it ever since.
Fiction Tiny Stories
The Bus Driver Who Waited for the Runner
The 7:42 leaves at 7:42, except on the four mornings a week when it leaves at 7:43, for reasons the timetable does not record.
Fiction Tiny Stories
The Tortoise Who Outlasted Three Sofas
He arrived in 1974 as a present for a nine-year-old boy, and has since watched the living room around him be redecorated four times without appearing to notice.
Fiction Tiny Stories
The Village Clock That Is Four Minutes Fast
It has been four minutes fast since 1971, and the village has twice voted, decisively, to leave it exactly as it is.
Fiction Tiny Stories
The Wall Where Lost Gloves Go
Nobody started it and nobody runs it, but every glove dropped on Pellow Street ends up on the same twenty metres of railing, waiting to be claimed.
Fiction Tiny Stories
The Traffic Cone That Became a Landmark
It was put over a pothole on Marsh Road in 2011. The pothole was filled in 2013. Nobody has been able to remove the cone since.
Fiction Tiny Stories
The Baker Who Always Made One Loaf Too Many
The bakery on Cold Street needed forty loaves a day, and for thirty-one years it baked forty-one.
Fiction Tiny Stories
The Bench With the Early Plaque
The small brass plaque at the top of Fenner's Hill has said FOR MARGARET, WHO LIKED IT HERE since 2019, and Margaret reads it most Tuesdays.
Fiction Tiny Stories
The Pigeon With a Season Ticket
Every weekday for six years a pigeon has boarded the 7:14 at platform two, ridden exactly one stop, and then walked all the way home again.