Blog Archives

Zondor the Great, by Jim Bartlett

26/1/2024

Zondor the Great slides his cape over the top hat, keenly aware that the wide-eyed gaze of each of Mrs. Singer’s second graders raptly follows his every move.

“Alakazam!” he shouts. And when he pulls back the cape, a white fuzzy nose peeks out of the hat.

“A rabbit,” the kids all scream together, their voices filled with glee.

Little Katie steps closer to Zondor. “Is there really such a thing as magic?”

Zondor looks around the room, every child’s face glowing brightly with a smile, eyes twinkling with delight. And his heart warms.

“Yes, Katie. There most certainly is.”

Little Things, by Ramamoorthy Natarajan

26/1/2024

On a beautiful Saturday morning, Paul awoke tired and lazy, wanting a weekend of rest. As he idled at home, fatigue clung to him. In the evening, he took a stroll into the nearest park. He saw a joyful girl riding on a bicycle, the park maintainer greeting him, an old man in his eighties taking small, measured steps as he walked, and the poetry of birds returning to their nests. On his return, Paul spotted a fallen $100 bill and alerted its unwitting owner. After a couple of refreshing hours, he returned home, fatigue replaced by newfound energy.

The Moaning, by Brian Taylor

26/1/2024

I'd gotten home early, when I heard my wife moaning.

"Oohhhh! Ohhhh God! Aahhh!"

Shock. Then the frantic questions: Is this real? Why? Who? What will I do now?

I knew. Shock fading and anger rising, I stormed to our room, and saw her... alone on the bed, rubbing her back.

"Oh," I said awkwardly. "I thought I heard you in here...making noises."

Grimacing, she said, "Oh...yeah. Sorry. I hurt my back earlier and it still hurts. I may need to go to the doctor."

Not thinking, I exclaimed, "Thank God! I'm so relieved!"

Eyes narrowing, she said, "Excuse me?"

The Hiker, by Scott Soodek

26/1/2024

The hiker had gone missing in the Rockies. He was considered an outdoorsman of the highest caliber and many were sure he’d turn up eventually. Nevertheless, undeterred by the snow, search parties swarmed the location. Even dogs were brought in to try to pick up a scent. A few weeks went by with no luck and the authorities decided to stop searching.

When spring came and the ice and snow melted his remains became visible. All that was left of him were bones and his knapsack. Upon opening the knapsack, they found an unsent postcard saying “Having a great time”

Receipts, by Cheryl Snell

26/1/2024

You give her a receipt for a lifetime of mothering just before you warehouse her. A quirky joke, but she takes it seriously, folding the paper into an origami bird. She puts it on her windowsill with the others─ invoices, requisitions, the receipt for her husband’s ashes. The forsythia outside, with its struggle of buds, its longing, its multiplications, scratches at the window as if wanting to come in. When you try to raise the glass, your mother stops you. The line of paper birds seems poised to fly away as soon as she is ready. Not yet, she says.

Fourth Wall, by Mary K. Curran

26/1/2024

Rosie wears a low-cut purple blouse and sits in the first row aisle seat eagerly awaiting the start of an absolutely favorite movie she's seen a dozen times.

She's enraptured by the handsome star who has chestnut hair, green eyes, a lop-sided grin and well-muscled body. Her bedroom walls are covered with his photos cut from movie magazines.

During the Nile cruise scene he looks straight at Rosie, jumps ship and steps out of the film. She is overjoyed when he kisses her hand but is totally crushed when he leaves the theater with the cute guy sitting behind her.

Decisions Decisions, by Elizabeth Zahn

26/1/2024

I’m stumped by my choices. I read the list again and shake my head. Eeny, meeny, miny, moe. Nope. I still can’t decide.

I recalled my childhood dinner table. My mother was vegetable bargaining, again, making me think I had a choice. “You have a choice,” she insisted. That night, I could enjoy either mushy, yellow-green broccoli spears or slimy, sauteed mushrooms. I told her neither. “Neither is a choice,” I said. Apparently, not at her table. So, my mother served me healthy portions of both broccoli and mushrooms.

I read the candidate list again, but I still couldn’t decide.

Easy, by Amita Basu

26/1/2024

The worst was not when he was fathoms below, among the colourless monstrosities of the deepsea’s evernight. Yes, the water crushed his spine, but he soon grew numb to the pain, hobnobbing with habitual bottomfeeders.

The worst was when he found himself drifting upwards, sighted fellow creatures in the sunflecked waters, and, breaking through the surface, gasping cold air, glimpsed the jewel-blue sky. Terrible was life’s beauty, terrible his sin in having deserted it.

He’d peer back into the murk, thinking how easy it would be to sink again, to defer yet another day the moment of rising, birth, agony.

Texting for Seniors, by Tom Baldwin

26/1/2024

‘Do you know how to send texts from your phone, Granny?’

‘Not really, Patsy.’

‘It’s quite easy. I’ll show you.’ Patsy carefully demonstrated the process and sent a text to her grandmother.

‘I think I understand, but what are all these initials, like ATM and ILY?’

‘They’re abbreviations of At The Moment, and I Love You, to save time typing. Now you send me one.’ Patsy’s grandmother laboriously sent her a text.

‘Well done, Granny! But what does JAFA stand for?’

‘Just Another Acronym.’

‘But what about the F?’

Her grandmother’s eyes twinkled, and Patsy blushed.

Free as a Fly, by Elanor Sue

26/1/2024

Ever wish you were a fly on the wall? Well, I'm a fly and I attest that it's great.

Before being on this wall, I landed on a mirror. With my spindly legs, maybe I'm not much to look at, but that doesn't bug me. I don't need attention or to generate a buzz.

I flew in an hour ago. The door was open, so I thought I'd take a look. As a fly, I can't be accused of trespassing. I might get whacked, though.

But why worry? I'm having such a good time!

Maybe Tomorrow, by Alyce Clark

26/1/2024

It’s difficult, looking into the eyes that recognized me yesterday, but not today.

Having the hand, that so gently, lovingly, held mine 24 hours ago, suddenly pull away at my touch.

Biting my lip, I manage to suppress the tears and try speaking softly.

Her face goes blank. The bright eyes that gazed upon me so tenderly and with such pride my whole life, have grown dim.

She begins to utter nonsensical words.

“Love you, Gran,” I whisper, flashing my warmest smile.

“Maybe tomorrow,” I say to myself as I rise and kiss her cheek. “Maybe she’ll recognize me tomorrow.”

When The Call Came, by Brian Mackinney

26/1/2024

The driver had just settled his fares in the back of his taxi when the phone rang.
“I need to talk to you,” said the voice. “Can I do it now? Is it convenient?”
No names were exchanged but the driver recognised the man. Realising the importance of the call he was uncertain what to say as he didn’t want his passengers to know.
“I er…am busy at the moment.”
“But I need to know. I need to speak.”
“Ok. Give it ten.”
“I’ll call again. Is it the number ending 2519?”
“Yes.’’
He was ready for the challenge.

Divine Intervention, by Bud Pharo

26/1/2024

My father’s physical and verbal abuse transformed my mother into a timid remnant of the vibrant, loving person he married. Nothing was ever good enough!

Once, while I held an icepack to her swollen cheek, she insisted he was a really good man who just had a drinking problem.

Coming home after drinking one evening, his car hit a tree.

We rushed to the hospital—he had undergone emergency surgery. The surgeon said he could die.

We went to the hospital chapel, where we prayed for him.

Two hours later, he passed.

My prayers, not hers, were answered.

Egress, by Sue Clayton

26/1/2024

Geoff’s throwing a pool party. We should go,” Damien urged.

“Okay,” Dennis sighed. Perhaps it was time to emerge from his hiatus.

The party was heaving. Girls and boys drinking, drugging, back flipping into the pool.

“You’re cool,” a goth girl embroidered with piercings hung around Dennis’s neck. “Jump into the pool with me.”

“Can’t,” he pulled away from a tongue ring working its way into his mouth.

If he took off his tee shirt how would she react to scallop scars cutting through chest hair where budding breasts once spouted, and said:

"I used to be Denise."

Guns are No Joking Matter, by Paul A. Freeman

26/1/2024

“Ray!” cried Raymond’s father from the adjacent room. “My medicine.”

It was the last pill in the bottle. Raymond wondered how he could get funds for medicine and his father’s operation.

With the last of his money, Raymond bought a pistol.

At First Bank, he walked up to a teller, surreptitiously revealed the loaded gun, and said: “All your cash. Now!”

The teller handed over the money, but pressed a silent alarm.

Outside the bank, Raymond was arrested.

A jaded police detective disarmed Raymond, pointed the pistol at the bank robber’s face, pulled the trigger, and sprayed Raymond with water.

A Hard Test, by Sankar Chatterjee

26/1/2024

Professor Sumantra Saha, sweating all over woke up from that recurring nightmare. It was that fateful mathematics test from five decades ago. He’d barely score the passing grade. The teacher Mr. Sujit Sen was excellent and inspirational but always challenged students to be smart problem-solvers.

Now a world-renowned astrophysicist, Sumantra got up and walked to his study. Amidst racks of scientific journals, several awards adorned the room. In his career, he solved several toughest problems of the field.

Outside a glorious full moon, bathing the nature suddenly took the shape of smiling math-teacher, inquiring “Was that test really too hard?”

Sleeping In, by Teddy Entwisle

26/1/2024

The phone rang, George rolled over, lifted the phone to his ear and grunted sleepily into its mouthpiece.
“George! Where are you?”
Sluggishly he remembered today’s ceremony. This would not go down well.
Ten minutes later a smartly dressed George left his apartment taking an Uber ride across town. Stepping out onto a stage in front of thousands he received his award commemorating his saving a youth from death jumping off the bridge.
Back across town the real George snoozed on, grateful AI allowed him to carbon copy himself.
Exactly how many AI duplicates of George were at large now?

The Turquoise Sky, by Angela Carlton

26/1/2024

Before bedtime, my aunt tells me, there’s a chance my Mama will be out of the hospital soon. The doctors tried out a few meds for her mixed-up brain and one seems to stick. That night I slept the hours away, images of Mama flying in the turquoise sky with the sunshine and the marshmallow clouds. She’s mighty, my Mama, and, oh, how she glides with the wind.

Something tugs at my chest then, in the cool, darkness of my bedroom, and I know. I know she’s my angel without the broken wings.

Step Back, by Sandra James

26/1/2024

‘Step back, carefully and slowly’, said my mother-in-law.

Did she really think I was that stupid? I was standing near the edge of a cliff and she said she wanted a photo of me and the view. I always thought she didn’t like me; didn’t think I was good enough for her son.

I ignored her, then felt the sting in my left ankle as a long brown snake attacked.

I screamed, toppling backwards.

The last thing I saw was the concern in her eyes as I fell to my death.

Perhaps she did care after all.

The Woodcutter, by Dick Narvett

26/1/2024

Six years ago, pre-surrender, I made my way from Germany to Northern Italy. This comune of Mazzin seemed a perfect place to begin a new life. I’ve plied my forestry skills, learned the language, and live in relative isolation.

In the village newspaper I read of the new government postage series, “Italy At Work.” There I am, the woodcutter, between potter and plowman. A beautiful artist’s rendering — the Vajolet Towers in the background.

I laugh. “Italy At Work,” with a German woodcutter. Imagining my visage being mailed across country and around the world, I realize my little charade is over.

Invasion, by K.G. Song

26/1/2024

An huge empty lot in the neighborhood bothered me and my neighbors for many year. The news of new homes, over 100, therefore, brought much relief and joy to the community.

When the construction began, however, we realized that the lot was not empty after all.

Thousands of field mice invaded the neighborhood. Every new home meant another wave. Countless traps couldn’t stem the tide of gray creatures. Even cats ran away.

Night time terrified us. We could hear them in the walls and ceilings. Scratching, scrambling, gnawing…

They are gone now.

Except scratching sounds never ceased in my head.

End of Term, by Yvonne Morris

26/1/2024

“I won’t come back next year!” she screamed.

The headmistress left her bedside, and all day, others who passed her room peeked in warily and scurried down the hallway. She’d tried to discuss her feelings about boarding school with her parents this morning. Mama turned away silently to fold an armful of sun-dried sheets while Daddy fled to the porch to smoke his pipe. Their farm was freedom from this cruel monotony of rules and institutionalized confinement. Now, a middle-aged woman, uninvited, appears.

She kisses her cheek, whispers, “You don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to, Mom.”

Dining Room with Easy Access to the Well-Lit Kitchen, by Stephen Goodlad

26/1/2024

“This is it?”

“Well, I did say it needed some TLC”

“But only from the electrician, plumber, carpenter, builder, decorator, roofer and local planning officer…”

“It’s already partly refurbished.”

“You mean it used to look worse?”

“There are some original features”

“Well, a tree growing through the living room is certainly original. I prefer a pot plant. I imagine any original features have been stolen.”

“Well, it is deceptively spacious. It is an excellent opportunity, offering superb value and is attractively priced.”

“Speak the truth man”

“For pity's sake, help us out. This thing's been on our books for years.”

Star Light, Star Bright, by Marsha Wachtel

26/1/2024

She stared up at the multitude of stars.

Set in stark reality, they did not resemble the familiar tiny, twinkling diamond lights dotted against black velvet, but terrifying celestial orbs floating within the infinite darkness.

It is amazing how much one could see without the fragile, protective layers of air cocooning us against the vast void beyond it.

Breath-taking.

In a literal sense.

As the deafening screaming around her eventually shushed into a collective whimper, then a dreadful silence; she continued to stare at the stars until they claimed her last breath.

Until There were None, by Krystyna Fedosejevs

26/1/2024

“Another one?” Keith smiled, receiving a piece of paper.

He doubted anyone was as methodical as his wife Grace. She perfected lists of scribbled items with instructions, sometimes sketches. Reminders were posted on the fridge for their teens. Husband’s were taped on the TV remote control.

Despite her diligence, mishaps occasionally happened with lists accidentally left home.

Whether recipients appreciated her approach, or not, no one deduced that beneath her organizational persona was a woman ravaged by stress.

Shock spread as news broke of her stroke at the age of fifty-two.

Without lists to guide him, Keith lost his way.

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