✍🏻 Calm elevator music drifts out from the empty tube station, at odds with the laughter of Rae and Stella as they stumble inside clinging to one another for support. The cream-coloured wall tiles look recently scrubbed and the large green plants seem too luscious to be real. Perhaps if they hadn’t had six too many glasses of wine they might notice this about their surroundings, but it’s been a good night, so instead they strut their way through the open gates and step shakily onto the escalators. Reaching the bottom, a blast of cold air pushes them back, so they charge forwards like a pair of giggling bulls in high heels, bursting onto the empty platform laughing. Fifteen minutes later, when there’s no sign of any trains, Rae shuffles to the help point and indelicately slams the button. ‘Hello, where are the trains?’ She adds a belated and elongated please but there’s still no reply, just a hollow vacuum, as if the call is connecting into a large empty room. Moving closer to the platform edge, Rae’s foot slips from underneath her and she stumbles backwards. She glances across at Stella, now asleep on a bench. Come on Stel, night bus.’ Pulling her friend to her feet, they head towards the ‘Way Out’ sign, a deco-style green arch that somehow makes you feel like you could crawl through it. Walking down the long bright tunnel they take a sharp turn at the end but instead of finding an escalator, they find another long tunnel, ending in a similar, equally sharp turn. Swearing loudly, Stella takes of her shoes despite Rae’s insistence it’s gross, and they continue on. At the end of the second tunnel, they find themselves standing back on the platform next to the ‘Way Out’ sign they started at. What begins as confusion turns to panic after they try this route twice more with the same result, then fail to find the escalator they originally came down on. Realising their phones have no signal, then hearing the sound of sharp footsteps, followed abruptly by an indescribable scream, Rae kicks off her shoes and they both begin to run. #Writing #Tube #FlashFiction #Storyteller #Writers

As 2026 begins, I’m reflecting on how our final trip to Hawkins, reminded me of what truly brings me joy - the power of storytelling. And shout out to @breakupmonologues for her post about Dustin’s valedictorian speech (an important lesson for us all from what is arguably Stranger Things best character). Head over to my Substack to read more, subscribe and let me know your thoughts. Link in Bio or https://bit.ly/allaboutthestories #StrangerThings #Storytelling #Stories #2026 #Hawkins

✍🏻 ✍🏻 During the Spring of 1992, I was on the verge of turning sixteen and deeply entrenched in my Nirvana obsession. My world hadn’t yet stretched beyond the boundaries of my small town and life revolved around surviving school and meeting my mates at the weekend. I thought I knew it all but I was about to realise just how naive that was. On Saturday May 9th, I headed into town to meet my best friend Rachel by the ‘pink lady’, which is what we called the large mural painted under the railway bridge. As I stood there waiting, the smell of vinegar from the nearby chip shop hit the back of my throat, making me wish I’d eaten something for breakfast. With food now the only thing on my mind and Rachel running late as usual, I wandered over to get a small portion of chips that I planned to smother in ketchup. Glancing to my right, down a small side street, I saw what I still wish I hadn’t. My dad, his lips locked with a woman I recognised from the dentist office. Watching them grabbing, pulling and desperately clawing at each other, it felt like I was submerged underwater and unable to swim. They giggled their way towards my dad’s car and fell inside laughing as my life fell apart. Staggering away with heavy limbs, I made my way home in a daze, forgetting about chips, Rachel, and whatever the day could have been. When I walked back into the house, I was met by my mum’s beaming smile and I knew instantly I could never tell her what I’d just seen. Even now, thirty-three years later, I still feel the same. #Storytelling #Writing #90s #Writer #Family

✍🏻 Steph knew that her sister Penny was tight with money. It had been a family joke since they were kids and Penny had haggled with their father over how much monopoly money she was willing to hand over for Park Lane. Throughout their teenage years and into adulthood, Penny didn’t change. So Steph really shouldn’t have been surprised when she arrived at her sister’s newly built house in the south of France to discover she had painted green shutters on the outside walls to give the illusion of windows where there weren’t any. ‘Have you seen the price of glass?’ was Penny’s reply when she saw the look on her sisters face. Steph grinned, ‘Yeah, but electricity is way more expensive than daylight Penny.’ #Story #Siblings #FlashFiction #Writing #FemaleStories #Storyteller

✍🏻 Eight year old Chris wakes up screaming. Not because he’s having a nightmare, but because of what he sees when he opens his eyes. His bedroom curtains are pulled back and outside against the tar coloured night, a figure lurks by his window. With skin folded in creases and deep chasms where its features should be, it moves closer, its breath steaming the window. Chris’s screams bring his mum running into the room. At least, he thinks they do. He doesn’t actually see the door open, or hear her footsteps. He only realises she’s there when her hand coldly touches his shoulder. His words tumble forth like vomit, telling her what he’s seen at the window, lurking, waiting, trying to get inside. Smiling, she brushes his hair back from his forehead, a sensation he hates, and she reassures him he’s only dreaming. That he’s safe and sound tucked up in bed. As she creeps back out of his room, he knows she’s lying. He just doesn’t know why. #Story #Writing #Halloween #FlashFiction