The English Magazine

by Patrick O’Connor

DAN slumped down on the seat next to the old lady who was staring keenly out towards the vast expanse of green grass.

He didn’t think he’d ever seen grass cut so neatly, laid out in precise, differently shaded squares.

NIGEL arrived almost the same time as Sarah, indeed they stood side by side.

He was a scruffy looking twentysomething  with torn jeans, faded t-shirt and wayward light brown hair.

“Is this the queue?” he asked.

by Patrick O’Connor

HE was determined to win this year. Years of failure had made him – he looked around sheepishly as if he was checking if anyone could read his thoughts - really, really mad. And, of course, that wasn’t allowed. You weren’t supposed to even frown.

This year the Tall Man had come up with a cunning plan.

Love Letters

by Patrick O’Connor

COME on, get a grip, you should be tougher than this.Louise knew that her break was nearly over and that very soon she would have to be back on the ward. Better tidy up, she thought, wipe away those tears, stop sniffling. For God’s sake woman, you’re a ward sister, shouldn’t get upset like this. She looked at herself in the mirror, brushed her hair and put the letters back in the drawer before leaving her office.