Journalist with The Belfast Telegraph.
Shoppers wrapped in heavy coats and scarves are carrying bags. An older lady pulls her brightly decorated shopping cart behind her.
By Liam Tunney4 months ago in Families
“We’ve come to see the baby…” Muireann is practising songs for Friday’s carol service in the back of the car. I’m trying navigate the ice-glazed back roads between Cloughmills and Dunloy.
By Liam Tunneyabout a year ago in Families
The drip from the kitchen tap reverberated off the surface of the sink. I stood a moment, the dull silence of the morning outside rendering me still. A glass hung limply in my hand.
By Liam Tunneyabout a year ago in Fiction
Today I visited my daughter’s grave. A short sentence. Only six words. Six words no parent would ever hope to speak, but it’s our reality.
By Liam Tunney2 years ago in Families
Granda wasn’t a huge football fan. Not in the sense that he would go and stand on terraces every week, singing and chanting, but he had a real interest in the stories and narrative around the sport.
A lone dog meandered down the footpath outside Sean’s house. A greyhound, he thought, but it was hard to be certain in the half-light of the empty street.
By Liam Tunney2 years ago in Fiction
Not many were bothering with the football that was on the television. Indeed, most were doing their level best to avoid it. Liverpool v QPR.
By Liam Tunney3 years ago in Humans
It's breezy in Ballypatrick Forest, but the car park is well-populated. Families step out of cars, stretching and reaching for jackets. Cyclists kick off down the forest path.
By Liam Tunney3 years ago in Criminal