“Got the family round this year?” I ask as I dance round the workshop. “Oh yes, a full house, such a magical time” she stares at the ledger. I’ve never heard her speak about family other than her husband and well,he’s a bit of a workaholic this time of year. “Open invite to mine Mrs C” #WriteCBC

The last car filled up an hour before closing. I’m at the automatic door as the pumps go off, puzzled it doesn’t swoosh open. Startle as the radio blares. Step to switch it off. Swoosh. Cold air bursts in. Swoosh. Lights out. Swoosh. Silence. The forecourt tannoy lights up, ready to speak #writecbc

She pulled her skin, stretching creases that lined her face like a map of b-roads. Rivers of veins dissecting highways and byways. The last time she stood on tiptoes before this glass her eyes had shone in wonder. The ring had glistened like Sirius in the night sky. Now it lay, forlorn
#WriteCBC

#WriteCBC The flimsy door of the old caravan shook from the firm knock. She opened it a crack, jamming her slippered foot behind it. A stooped figure glared at her, sharp blue eyes and a nicotine yellow moustache that reminded her of a polar bear’s fur. ‘Why are you here?’ they asked in unison.

She shoved the losing scratchcards in her bag. Just one more. Or two. Her purse was empty. Her hand curled round the birthday envelope. She’d replace it with her winnings before he knew. She ripped it open as Luke appeared, eyes cast to his name written in his Gran’s spidery hand “Mum..?” #WriteCBC

Tiny hairs stand on high alert. Hot, dank, rustling, the breath slips into my ear. My eyes shoot open. Ahead, darkness crawls up from the floorboards, its tendrils creep towards me. The breath pulses as hideous sinews steal over the thin sheet, entwining the length of my leg. It found me #WriteCBC