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Then enter the Secret Attic Short Story Competition!

Each month you can submit an entry that will be passed onto our judges who will pick the best and award a winner. During some months the subject matter will be a 'free for all', where you can write anything you like, other months will have a specific theme.

Previous Competition Winners

February 2005 David Willshaw

April 2005 Christine Sutton

May 2005 George L Darley

July 2005 Robyn O'Hara

August 2005 Richard Adamski

September 2005 Hannah Southgate

October 2005 Heather Parker

December 2005 Feathers by Bob Lakin

January 2006 RD Larson

February 2006 Debra Spiller

March 2006 Nethi Sette

April 2006 Joe Louis

May 2006 Kim Montgomery

Love of Literature by Raymond Hopkins, Kronoby, Finland

Missing by Debra Spiller, Kent, UK

Diary of a Ghost by Suzanne Ralphson, Leicester, UK

Shreds of Love by Irene Edwards, Angus, UK

Lip Service by Will Orr-Ewing, London, UK

Red by Gary Campbell, Mount Gambier, Australia

Leaving The City In Ruins. by Trevor Nicholl, Manchester, UK

One For The Watercooler by Simon Maltz, London, UK

My Own Personal Time Machine by David Darlington, Guernsey, Channel Islands, UK

Women and Me and My Mate Jamie by David Darlington, Guernsey, Channel Islands, UK

It’s been three years, seven months, one day, fourteen hours and eleven seconds since I last had a shag. Honest to god, that long. And that was with a rough bitch I picked up in the taxi rank, a real “three am princess”.
“ Excuse me sweetheart, but do you fancy coming back to my gaff?”
“ Sure, why not? But I gotta be up in the morning to go get my benefit cheque.” That was it. Real catch she was.
Since then I’ve been through the worst barren spell of my life. Not even a kiss, or a feel or anything. Nothing. The closest I’ve come to touching a bird was when me and my mum both reached for the potatoes at Sunday lunch a few weeks back.
I’ve never been great with birds, if I’m honest with you. I think it comes from growing up with an older sister that wouldn’t stop giving me shit when I was a kid, causing me to now feel uncomfortable around women. That, as well as the fact that I’ve got a massive nose, a large beer gut, a mostly bald head and a face covered in spots.
My ex-girlfriend dumped me seven years ago, and I haven’t had a long term girlfriend since. She was a bitch, Jackie. Shagged my best mate Jamie behind my back. Literally behind my back; I was sat in my parent’s lounge, they were shagging in the back garden. We’d had a party and I’d not noticed the two of them disappear. Took me a while to forgive Jamie for that.
“ Sorry mate, but she came on to me,” he told me when I found out. “I couldn’t help it, I was drunk.”
“ That right?”
“ Yer, sorry about that.”
“ Not sure if sorry’s gonna cut it this time mate.”
“ Want a pint then?”
“ That’ll be sound, cheers.” That did the trick. To be fair, I shagged his missus when we were a bit younger, and he forgave me for that, so I did the decent thing and forgave him. We’re best mates after all, have been for about twenty five years. We met all those years ago because his parent’s house is just around the corner from mine.
In fact, Jamie still lives at home with his mum and dad, same as me. People find it strange when I tell them I’m still at my parent’s gaff.
“ Don’t you think at your age you should’ve got your own place?” they say.
“ No. It’s cheaper living at home,” I’ll often reply.
“ Okay, that might be the case, but you’re thirty years old. Maybe it’s time to move out?”
“ Nope. Sound where I am, thank you very much.”
I don’t see why I should move out, to be honest. My mum and dad don’t charge me much, the house is next door to our local, and I’ve got Sky Digital in my bedroom, with a PremPlus season ticket as well.

So, anyway, I’ve not had a bird in a hell of a long time. But it’s not for the want of trying. I’ve tried, believe me. I’ve tried my hardest, but nothing’s ever come of it. You see, when me and Jamie go out, we go out HARD. That’s right, we drink and drink and drink until we can't drink anymore, then we drink some more. I’ve been arrested on six separate occasions for disorderly behaviour after one of our nights out. Jamie’s actually been arrested nine times. He’s also got an aggravated assault charge to his name as well.
Most nights when we go out, we start in our local, drink six or seven pints of lager, then get a taxi into town and start on the shorts. Vodka, Absinthe, Bailey’s, Sambuca, Tequila slammer, etcetera. By about ten o’clock we’re wankered, and that’s when we start looking for birds. I can only imagine what we must look like; dribbling messes, calling all the girls sweet-cheeks and darlin’, all the while blowing smoke into their faces and breathing alcohol all over them. No wonder we don’t get any action.
But tonight it’s gonna be different. Tonight I’m going out, staying sober, and I’m not coming home until I’ve pulled a bird. ANY bird, as long as she’s not over fifty years old, like that last taxi rank disaster. It took a week to get the smell of her out of my bedroom.
“ No beers tomorrow night, until we’re in town,” I told Jamie over the phone yesterday.
“ Eh?”
“ No beers, until we’re-”
“ I heard you mate, I’m just wondering why? What’s the point in going out, unless we’re getting pissed?”
“ To get a bird. Jesus, when was the last time you had one?” Honestly, with Jamie, it’s always just about getting pissed.
“ Fuck knows, ages I suppose.”
“ Exactly.”
“ So, you’re not exactly Casanova yourself.”
“ That’s not what I’m saying.”
“ I saw that fat thing you took home a few years ago. Christ! She looked liked that massive alien off Star Wars.”
“ Shut up, forget that.”
“ Rough.”
“ What I’m saying is, it’s because we’re so hammered when we chat them up that we don’t get anything. If we were sober, maybe they’d give us a chance. I dunno, it’s worth a go, isn’t it? What d’you reckon?”
“ Sounds okay, but I’m still gonna have a few drinks, you know. Can't stand being in town sober. It’s crap at the best of times.”
I considered that for a bit and said fair enough. We agreed to go to the pub and have a few, but not many. Just a few liveners, to get us going. I’m actually on my way over there now. Jamie’s got a pint and a chaser on the table for me, and after I’ve finished this bottle of wine I started last night, I’ll be ready to rock. I’ve ironed my shirt, washed my teeth, and even had a shave. There are no massive spots on my face, so that’s a bonus.
It’s gonna be a good one tonight, I can feel it. I’m actually a bit nervous, and I reckon, if I do get a bird, I won’t last very long. Doesn’t bother me, as long as I enjoy myself, that’s all that matters. I’m not looking for a wife, after all, just a bit of stuff for the night.
In fact, I think I’ll just have a quick lager, before I go to meet Jamie. You know how it is, settle my nerves and that. I don’t want to be TOO sober when I go up to chat to a bird, do I?