Fiction

The Runner

3 Minute Read  ✍🏻 January 2018
🔗 Share: jukes.in/run

Overwork and pressure have put grit in his blood. Skin shadowy, tanned ashen from artificial light, mouth soured by stale air, back teeth aching from the lock-jaw of stress. There is shrapnel in his back; shot through with gristle, steel cables of torsion in his neck.

Fiction

Well, Why Not?

⏱ 10 Minute Read  ✍🏻 September 2017
🔗 Share: jukes.in/why

I am walking to the central Monument in the bright May Sunshine. I am carrying a paper bag that contains a sandwich, a bottle of sparkling water and an apple. The content of the sandwich is not important.