Matt Gemmell

“Would you agree that human translators are becoming less important as technology evolves?”

My symptoms had been getting steadily worse for almost a year by the time I was brought in for questioning.

By the time we realised, it was obvious that we were too late.

Today marks the three-hundredth short story I’ve published, one per week, over the last (almost) six years.

“At least I have a job,” he said.

“Is anyone familiar with the concept of the Dao?”

It was raining in Edinburgh, but that was nothing unusual — except that it had been too cold for rain since the weekend, and didn’t feel much warmer on this grey morning.

I’d been sitting in the small room for more than an hour, and I knew that I should be getting annoyed by now.

The curfew starts earlier in winter.

Their first attempt to contact us went unnoticed.

Widowed at thirty-three years old, she thought.

“Welcome to the history section,” the librarian said.

The knock came late in the evening.

Somewhere overhead, a fluorescent light was buzzing.

It was a beautiful summer evening on the day when I learned how to see inside.

For several years, I’ve been writing weekly flash fiction: ultra-brief tales of 1,000 words or more, usually in genres including science fiction, horror, and the supernatural.

All software has bugs, the sign says.

One hundred and four seconds.

Wednesday, 11th April, 1821 My dear friend William, I hope this letter finds you in both good spirits and rude health, and I must convey my most sincere apologies for the unavoidable delay in sending it.

The younger man looked nervous, and his supervisor was only marginally less so.

The service was humanist instead of religious, which surprised no-one who was present.

In London, only a few minutes’ walk from the Ministry of Defence, Downing Street, and the Foreign & Commonwealth Office, there is a building which blends in perfectly with those around it.

The brain surgery was experimental, they said, and I laughed.

When the doors of the lift opened, Darren Grey stepped out, walked for about ten feet, and then stopped.

The evening sky was as purple as the heather that stretched out before me, but it had bands of red and gold too.

Everything has to happen sometime.

The first thing that surprised me was that she smoked.