Author Archives: mickbloor3

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”

by Michael Bloor (first published in Literally Stories, February 8th, 2012) As Alex was walking through the university gates to the departmental staff meeting, he was thinking about Black Holes, the first photograph of which had been displayed as a news item on his ipad that morning. One of the strange-but-true properties of Black Holes wasContinue reading “The Foot of Bennachie”

Michael Bloor (first published in The Journal of William Morris Studies, Vol. 18, No.1, Winter 2008. My thanks to Alex Faulkner for succeeding in copying my pdf file into Word) James Leatham (1865-1945) was a pioneer socialist, who towards the end of his life printed, published, edited and largely wrote a monthly magazine, TheGateway,from theContinue reading “James Leatham’s eyewitness account of William Morris’s 1888 visit to Aberdeen”

(first published in Literally Stories Stories, Sept 9th, 2021) As a schoolboy, Sam Groat had played in the same boys teams as a previous captain of West Bromwich Albion; his teammates from back then had all agreed that Sam had been the better footballer. His mother was an anarchist refugee from the Spanish Civil War.Continue reading “The Questing Knight by Michael Bloor”

SOUTH ATLANTIC CAREER CHANGE BY MICHAEL BLOOR (first published in Idle Ink, Sept 4th, 2021) Really, I did feel bad about neglecting the alien, but I was terribly busy at work that week. I’m a delivery driver and Christmas is our busiest time of the year. And the company cancel your Christmas  bonus if youContinue reading

(first published in Potato Soup Journal, July 5th, 2021) At first when I died, it was rather predictable. Beginning with that out-of-body-experience thing: I’m hovering, up near the ceiling, in the local Accident & Emergency Department, looking down on a rather battered and splattered me, plus an attendant nurse and junior doctor. Then it’s theContinue reading “Agnostic Preview by Michael Bloor”

Michael Bloor (first published in Ink, Sweat & Tears, June 26th 2021 – National Flash Fiction Day) As they’d agreed that morning, the three old women met again at the crossroads on the heath, when the sun was sinking. They were beggars, clad in beggars’ rags. War was once more in the land and beggars’Continue reading “Stirring Ambition”

Michael Bloor (first published in Scribble, No. 90, pp.67-72, Summer 2021) A group of raucous, young, Edinburgh lawyers and bankers, with a collective misplaced sense of entitlement, were drowning out civilised pub conversation (‘Hey Charles, why did the woman cross the road?’ – ‘Search me Alistair, how the hell did she get out of theContinue reading “Wee Willie Winkie and the Sma’ Glen”