Fox Holes (A Winter’s Tale in Winterthur)

We were on a foolish quest for wildlife in Winterthur – a place better known for its heavy iron and railway industry, not the natural world. Undeterred, Tom and I climbed the woods on the edge of the town to the Eschenberg tower and continued on up the spiral staircase, until 170 steps and sevenContinue reading “Fox Holes (A Winter’s Tale in Winterthur)”

Fox Holes (The Vixen’s Scream) by Suzy Pope

Foxholes or The Vixen’s Scream Golden discs of sunlight play across the forest floor. I slink through the trees while birds call warnings to each other. Horns blast. The fox hunt. I spot another one of us through the trees, fur the colour of autumn leaves. He raises his pointed face, yellow eyes frozen likeContinue reading “Fox Holes (The Vixen’s Scream) by Suzy Pope”

An interview with guest writer, Andrea Brittan

Andrea, thank you for agreeing to write a flash fiction for Double Espresso. It’s a pleasure to have you on board. Just to explain our connection: we both belong to a Peak District critiquing group (a subgroup of Writers in the Peak), all of us ‘obsessive’ writers I think it’s fair to say! When didContinue reading “An interview with guest writer, Andrea Brittan”

Oven Stones by guest writer, Mike Crowl

 There was this here jolt, see, like an earthquake. The only thing I hear moving is them two round oven stones and the glass plate, the one what used to fit in the microwave we got rid of.  The wooden stand for the rolling pin what looks like it’s made of a marble staircase ˗Continue reading “Oven Stones by guest writer, Mike Crowl”

An interview with guest writer Mike Crowl

Mike thank you very much for agreeing to write a flash story for Double Espresso. Where do I start? Your talents seem endless: musician, pianist and composer; actor, director and playwright; novelist, writer, theologian, active Christian and family man. What comes top of your list? It sounds more impressive than it probably is, Helen. ButContinue reading “An interview with guest writer Mike Crowl”

Cold Side by Helen Moat

Detta and Frena saw stories in everything: in bark and boulder and banks of snow around the farm; even the pictures on their bedroom wall. And the sisters filled the empty spaces between with whispered tales. “Who is she? The woman pulling the sleigh of firewood,” Detta asked in hushed tones, her tiny body thrownContinue reading “Cold Side by Helen Moat”