Bristol Noir, Flash Fiction, Short Story, Top Story

FLASH FICTION: These Streets Weren’t Majestic by Mark McConville

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Sometimes love should be doused in gasoline and set alight. I craved love; I craved life. Standing on the streets of pain, selling a magazine not worth its salt. Times were hard then, my heart was stretched to breaking point, and I was soaked through by the daily rain. These streets weren’t majestic. There weren’t any striking colours, or fashion statements, but people holding callous hearts in their thin chests and wallets full of dirty money.

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