A collection of short stories written by Gareth Davies author of novels Maggie’s Milkman and Extraordinary Rendition. Over 800 free short stories and 100 poems. Please note all works are first drafts. Enjoy, leave comments, share on social media and be inspired.
Check out the details of my novels here
ArtyMac leant back in Barry’s leather chair and shook his
head. He looked up at Barry Corby who
was staring out of the window across the football pitch and the new stadium
beyond. As ever Barry was dressed in a garish Hawaiian shirt and smartly ironed
“I’m sorry mate.” Arty said, looking back at the screen in
front of him.
“Scroll down.” Barry said without turning around.
Arty clicked on the mouse and rolled the wheel. He sucked in
air between his teeth. “Jesus Christ.”
“No way! Ross Kettering? Is there anyone she isn’t fucking?”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Arty wished he could pull them back
in. He watched Barry lean his head against the pane of glass. Barry’s phone
vibrated on the table, but both men ignored it.
“Does Lulu know you know?”
“What you gonna do?”
“I should kill her, I should kill them,” Barry said. “I
should kill them all.”
You can’t kill half of
Castleton. This time ArtyMac kept the thoughts to himself.
He rolled the mouse up and down enjoying the photos. And
then stopped when he remembered the woman on the screen wasn’t some Pornhub
whore, but was his best mate’s wife.
“Who sent these?”
“I don’t know,” Barry said. “But whoever it is, he wants to
be paid by Sunday, or he will take the pictures to the papers.”
“You’re not going to pay him are you?” ArtyMac banged the
“What choice to I have?” Barry turned around. “He’s already
ruined me, and now he wants to make my suffering public. All of this,” Barry
gestured to the world outside his window. “Everything I’ve built - destroyed.
How will anyone be able to take Barry Corby seriously once everyone knows
that half the people in this fucking two-bit town are shagging my wife? I’ll be
a laughing stock.” Barry turned back to the window. “This fucking town would be
nothing without me. Nothing! I’ve poured money in, created jobs, created wealth,
saved this fucking football club. And this is the thanks I get.”
“When did you say
this little toe rag wants the money by?” ArtyMac scratched his face.
gives us three days. We can come up with something.” Arty went over and patted
his mate on the shoulder. “You can trust ArtyMac. When have I ever let you
down.” The two men stared out over the football ground in silence. Arty’s words
were big words but deepdown he knew his oldest friend was screwed. For part seven click here .