Author Archives: mickbloor3

by Michael Bloor (first published Grey Sparrow Journal, Issue 40, July 31st, 2022) I believe quite a lot of people chat, from time to time, with their deceased relatives. Myself, I’ve often chatted to my dad, especially when stuck in traffic. But I imagine that chatting to Samuel Taylor Coleridge is more unusual. Unusual, butContinue reading “Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Life Coach”

(first published in Literally Stories, June 28th, 2022) He woke abruptly in the lonely bed. It was still dark. The dolorous memories of yesterday’s events knotted his guts and sent him to the bathroom. Downstairs, he fed the clamorous cat and chucked more fuel on the stove – autopiloting. A pause and a deep breathContinue reading “The Next Morning by Michael Bloor”

(first published in Free Flash Fiction, 17/6/2022) Dr. Ernest Mathewson was eating an early breakfast. He was about to head off to the University of St Andrews to examine a postgraduate dissertation. It was a longish drive from Glasgow and the external examiner’s fee was a joke. But, as he’d patiently explained to Mrs Mathewson,Continue reading “The Trip to St Andrews by Michael Bloor”

By Michael Bloor (first published in The Drabble, 15/6/2022) In 1934, Derby County FC toured Germany, invited by the German Football Association. A year previously, Hitler swept to power, banning all other political parties. The manager told the players that the British Ambassador had insisted that, prior to kick-off, the Derby team must line-up withContinue reading “An International Incident”

by Michael Bloor (first published in the Potato Soup Journal, 15/5/22) Working at Larchwood House suited Ben very well. Ben had trained at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art. But four years after graduating from RADA, the only acting job he’d been offered was in a Christmas panto at the Wirksworth Empire: he played anContinue reading “Role Call”

(first published in The Drabble, 24th April, 2022)  By Michael Bloor The stream gushed out of a tumble of rocks on the mountain-side, half-hidden by bracken and gorse. Down from the source, the stream threaded a shallow valley among the hills, swirling around alder roots. Lesser tributaries joined and mingled. Trout hid in holes in theContinue reading “Last Journey“

by Michael Bloor First published in Literally Stories, March 30th 2022 Schiehallion, aka The Faery Hill of the Caledonians, is a magnificent, isolated, rugged, limestone ridge in Highland Perthshire, in the plumb-centre of Scotland. I’ve climbed it many times in the past, but now my arthritic knees deny me that pleasure: the jarring of theContinue reading “The Otherworld Hiding Place”

by Michael Bloor (first published in Platform for Prose, March 2022) Five days out from Kharg Island oil terminal, the Pride of the Solent held a steady South-East course through an Indian Ocean prostrate under the night sky. In the captain’s cabin, a grizzled old man pushed himself away from a desk crowded with papersContinue reading “Tanker Talk”

by Michael Bloor (first published in Ink, Sweat & Tears, February 6th, 2022) Ever since he was 17, Angus had been saving the tiny hairs shaved from his chin by a succession of electric razors. Now, aged 67, he had one of those old-fashioned, large, glass, sweetie-jars almost full of his own tiny hair-shavings –Continue reading “The Ominous Sweetie Jar”

by Michael Bloor (first published in Potato Soup Journal, February 8th, 2022) In the town chess club, the final of the annual Earl’s Cup competition was about to start, the finalists being Willie Anderson, the holder, and a new member, Archie Drummond. The club was a friendly, welcoming place, but there was a surprising coolnessContinue reading “Chess Nuts”