“The lone figure stumbles into the valley like a lost revenant.” Today’s #TuesdayTales piece is “Hunger” by Mike O’Driscoll.
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“I didn’t fall apart. I knew that she felt strangely secure with me…” Today’s #TuesdayTales piece is “Sensible Shoes” by Mehreen Ahmed.
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“We’re back, the four of us, at the bowling alley.” Today’s #TuesdayTales piece is the celebratory and nostalgic “Bowling Alley” by Phoebe Thomson.
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“The earth is particularly bright tonight, with Antarctica shining right at us.” Today’s #TuesdayTales piece is “The Line of Totality” by Georgia Symons.
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“But Julia grew, and in a way, so did Jean again…” Today’s #TuesdayTales piece is “This Spring, We Grow Again” by Christopher DiCicco.
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“Scott had never stayed in a suite before…” Today’s #TuesdayTales piece is “The Hesitant” by David Micklem.
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“It had been a modest affair, catered at home.” Today’s #TuesdayTales piece is “A Fox in Resulata” by Elizabeth Kiem.
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“You stand and look at your map and have the uncanny sense of being watched.” Today’s #TuesdayTales is “The City of Eyes” by Elizabeth Kim.
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“Imagine the family’s excitement… Peter had somehow snagged a second date…” Today’s #TuesdayTales is “The Second Date” by Dylan Tuccillo.
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“The hill was an island in the mornings, sat there above the white mist…” Today’s #TuesdayTales piece is “Upon the Hill” by Ryan Child.
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“You look across, catch her eye, and she hides behind her stick of candyfloss.” Today’s #TuesdayTales piece is “Death” by Joshua Oldridge.
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“At three minutes past ten, lightning struck Harry.” Today’s #TuesdayTales is “The November Storm” by Chris Bogle.
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“There is one figure standing in front of the building now.” Today’s #TuesdayTales piece is “Ballerina” by Ilina Trendafilova.
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“One of your car parks now has a seemingly unending hole in it.” Today’s #TuesdayTales piece is “Worms” by Calla Nell Preece.
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Daniel was the first of us to spend the night alone in there.” Today’s unsettling #TuesdayTale is Nicola Varley’s “The Bone Room”.
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After Attracta died she never gave it back.
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I had spent two decades in desserts.
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Music is a strange and sad language, she was thinking as the bus hissed to attention at her stop.
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If I could be somewhere else – where?
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She was still pretending to sleep when the driver turned off the road.
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