Finlay Carr-Hopkins
Bio
I write poems and stories and stuff.
Stories (6)
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Gary Lineker, The Snake, and The Collected Short Stories of Katherine Mansfield
At around six in the evening, on the night before The Collected Short Stories of Katherine Mansfield needed to be finished reading, on the last day of the entire week in which it had to be read in, as he sat down on the small grey sofa which he planned to read it on, the boy was bitten by a snake. The snake had sunken its impressive collection of teeth right into the boys ankle, and despite his best efforts, those teeth stayed sunk for over two hours.
By Finlay Carr-Hopkins3 years ago in Fiction
Riley The Dwarf Lantern Shark
Can you keep an eye on my car, please, mate? he said to the Sainsburys security guard. I’ll only be a few minutes. And The Blood was drawn; Riley smelt it from all the way on the other side of town. He started to make his way there. Riley was a dwarf lantern shark, roughly the size of a human hand. Today, he was hungry. He hadn’t feasted in three days now. For a shark normally as prolific as him, this was a very long time.
By Finlay Carr-Hopkins3 years ago in Fiction
At Some Point
Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. In winter, spectacular gusts of pink and violet snow would waltz upwards, through the trees and the rooftops, all the way up to the stars; spring brought the crashing of leaves into the shore, every last leaf painted with a unique shade of gold or crimson or peach; summer would announce itself as it always did: flocks of merry tourists, everyone from here to London squeezed on that same strip of lilac sand; and every autumn, without fail, those vividly coloured leaves would retreat, disappearing into the mist of our great, wine-red ocean. At some point, someone must have betrayed William, because he could not see any of this. All he saw was grey.
By Finlay Carr-Hopkins3 years ago in Fiction
