Mrs Morelli

Mrs Morelli came into the living room while Martin was waiting for Yvonne to get ready. Yvonne had left the door open on the way upstairs, but her mother closed it over. She went to the fireplace and lowered the gas fire. A packet of Embassy Number 1 was in its usual place on the top of the mantelpiece, and she lit one with the chunky green lighter. Clamping the cigarette in her mouth, she fixed her hair in the mirror, squinting an eye against the smoke and pulling pins out then placing them back in the same places but … Continue reading Mrs Morelli


If I had a lion, I’d train it to eat anyone that wasn’t me. It would just be me and the lion. The lion would do his stuff, and I’d do mine. He’d hunt, because that’s what lions do. I’d harvest and eat wild plants and berries, because that’s what I’d do. I’d shed my clothes, and walk naked. The two of us naked. Afternoons I’d spend reading and writing, and he’d rest, drowsy, one eye half-open. Half-watchful, but half’s enough in the afternoon. At night, together we’d stir at noises from far away. Stirring, together, at these sounds in … Continue reading IF I HAD A LION


He returned to footpaths and fields he remembered from his childhood. Once upon a time, they’d played here, where adults never roamed. In those days, they’d paid no heed to the signs, or the warnings, or the fenced-off areas. As children, they’d believed themselves the owners of all of this. And perhaps they hadn’t been wrong. © Barry Lee Thompson and ‘Stories, by Barry Lee Thompson’, 2014 Continue reading Playground