Flash Fiction

Flash Fiction Week | A Vignette on St Mary’s Street by Rhys Milsom

Six seven eight bottles ona table in fronta me, but there cud be ten or even eleven coza table isn tha big like n they’re all hidin behind n in front of each other like eyr really shy o somin like a 15 year old with bad painful acne sippin ona flat lemonade, sat ona sides ina school disco on eyr own when everyone else is dancin with each other n neckin it on before eyr mamodad picks em up outside at 9 n ey pretend eyr friends went home earlier, when really ey havun gor any friends like n ey wen to a disco on eyr own jus to stop mam askin questions all a time.

The bottles are like traffic lights, brown green n amber like n I’ve mixed em all, sonly way see inni? Good thing is I’m still in my suit from work but I’ve taken my jacket off coz it’s gerrin warm in yuh. Issa good thing coz I feel real smart iniss, real confident like. I’ve only bin yuh once o twice before bu iss alright, I used to go to tha place on St Mary’s bu it’s shut down inni coz the owner’s bin dun for rapin a few girls, the cunt, so I’m sat yuh in iss place by Waterstones.

I’m sat by the windoh. Ehr’s not much goin on part from a muntin piece slappin her baban on ther arse in a bitta temper so I finish my bottle n chuck my jacket back on n I feel a piss brewin so I ed to the boys room before headin outside.

I step outside n fresh air hits me real ard like Calzaghe’s jab n my ed is buzzin n all warm like n I’m stumblin like a cunt towards two decents coz as what it’s all about, all short skirts n tans n eye eels n I grab onto one who’s closest n pull er into me n er air smells like coconuts n she’s nor sayin nothin n I feel myself fallin so I grab onto er more n she falls with me onto the floor. I’m pretty dazed like coz I’m fucked now n I can feel myself gerrin really heavy but en she’s off me n cryin into some absolute brick of a boy n en ees over me shoutin in my face n I’m jus laughin coz I dunno what the fuck ees on about n en his foot smashes into my derby n it fuckin urts n ee does it again but I grab onto his foot n pull n ee falls n I grab a key for sniffin in my jacket n jam it across his face right by his eye n I feel somethin give way n I look at im n ees screamin n I see his eye angin out of its socket bleedin like fuck n it’s all runnin down his face n eh’s a crowd n I’m up n runnin bu fallin the same time n onto Queen Street n ed into Live Lounge coz anyone can ger in eh even if you’re absolutely fucked propa.

 

Wales Arts Review will be publishing exclusive new Flash Fiction pieces this week in celebration of National Flash Fiction Day on Saturday 27th June.