Wednesday 11 September 2019


by Maxine Churchman

still water

Something was up: terse welcomes and furtive glances as I entered. No-one met my eye. On my desk stood a plastic toy goat; they all knew. My face burned with indignation as I heard stifled sniggers. Sitting, I pretended not to notice.

My phone bleeped indicating a new message. It was a video snippet showing my humiliation. The goat charged, bang, splat, I landed face first in mud. I imagined it was someone else and realised it looked hilarious. I chuckled. Laughter broke out as my colleagues crowded me. I was astounded, they weren’t laughing at me but with me.

About the author

Maxine Churchman lives in Essex UK and has recently started writing poetry and short stories to share. Her work has been included in anthologies by Stormy Island Publishing, Black Hare Press and Clarendon House Publishing. Her interests include reading, walking and teaching yoga. She is also in the early stages of planning a novel.

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