Denise Jay's Short Fiction Archives

Reckoning

Manicured fingers caress a glass of misty absinthe, firelight glinting in gaping pupils as he surveys the raucous crowd. Eyes rest on one woman or another, narrowing. But that night, no one interests him. He leaves alone. Or so he thinks. A huddle of dark figures follow him as he…

She

I make my way through the gaslit thoroughfares, taking a route that avoids my former place of work. But even though there are several streets between me and the London terminus of the death train, I’m compelled to glance behind me every few steps, to peer down alleyways and into…

Laura

It started like any other sitting. I retreated from view when the first of our guests arrived. The customary tea was served and coins, never asked for but always expected, were pressed into the medium’s hand. But by the end everything had changed, and three months later the celebrated Mrs…