Microfiction: Men’s stuff

Sacha’s prompt this week, a time limit rather than word limit prompt, is pretty unlikely, but for once, I managed to do it. Not in 120 seconds, but less than four minutes, mainly because I can’t stop myself correcting spellings and typos as I go. Anal, I know, but there you are.

Anyway, the theme was Blowtorch and this is my 120 second (and a bit), stream of consciousness story.


It looks a bit like an oil can. Not that I’ve ever taken much notice of what George knackles away at in his shed. Men’s stuff. He’d have put a lock on the door if he’d ever dreamed I’d come in here and disturb him. Well, first time for everything. He’s left bits of metal lying everywhere—on his workbench, on the floor. You can’t see to tell the truth in here for the filth over the window. A bit of a tidy up won’t go amiss either. I pick up the battered can thing. It’s warm as if he’s just been using it. Wonder what it does? I turn it to look down the spout thing and press on the—

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

19 thoughts on “Microfiction: Men’s stuff”

    1. Haha! You picked out two expressions that aren’t mine. Knackling was a word my mum picked up from God knows where, probably Yorkshire, and being too dark to see the tell the truth was one of my father-in-law’s and I don’t know where he got it from.

      1. Great expressions – and it takes a writer’s ear to pick up on them and tuck them away for future use. Nicely done 🙂

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