Be Still, Your Beating Heart

There was surprise and excitement with the news that Greece was willing to loan The British Museum various artefacts...

His Ruffled Feathers

A killer story He sat drumming his fingers on the table while the old lady shuffled her way to the...

Where Does The Time Go?

A timeless classic 🙂 Adams Tilbury Partnership was one of the cheapest and shittiest law firms in Bunbary. Which was...

On This Night Before Christmas

The tale of a Christmas slaughter. On this night before Christmas, There was a stirring in the house. The...

Dead Man’s Die

The only sound came from the hearth as the flames danced between the logs releasing embers into the air....
Stories
Be Still, Your Beating Heart
Stories
His Ruffled Feathers
Stories
Where Does The Time Go?
Poem
On This Night Before Christmas
Stories
Dead Man’s Die

Short Stories

A collection of fictional short stories, free for you to read.  Enjoy!

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About

Welcome

Thank you for dropping by. My name is Nathan M Green and I’m a writer of short stories and novels. There’s plenty to read here, catering for multiple palates. Enjoy your visit, you won’t be disappointed. Happy reading!

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Books

Find out more about current books, upcoming books and bonus content.

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Stories

Words Are Friends

Letters are too Ruben’s café in Amsterdam wasn’t much to look at. The sign above the door was a weathered plastic orange board with a seventies black font. The main feature of the front of the shop was a large clear…

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Stories

A Tailor’s Tale

Pepe d’Blanco’s name was known throughout all the kingdoms. His reputation had travelled further than the man himself. He was so revered, those of noble blood would risk life and limb crossing great oceans and seas to secure his services….

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Stories

Dead Man’s Die

The only sound came from the hearth as the flames danced between the logs releasing embers into the air. It cast its glow onto the boys as they sat quietly in anticipation. Their faces threw disfigured shadows, changing with each…

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Stories

Ship of Theseus

Deep in the forest of Elgan stood a cosy loved old cottage, topped with a thick thatched roof and a chimney built from stone. The walls were painted a pristine white and adorned with hanging baskets bursting at the seams…

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Poem

The Abused

Roses are red, Violence is black and blue. I’m sick and tired of taking a beating from you. I’m not your punch bag, Nor am I your stress relief. I’m human too, contrary to your belief. I never gave you…

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