Blog Archives

Spring Breezed In, by Krystyna Fedosejevs

19/3/2021

Fact sheets stared back at her in mumbo-jumbo. His face smiling through the print.

She met him at a dinner dance. Both invited by parents who were friends.

“If he looks at you with sparkling eyes, he’s the one,” a girlfriend advised.

She couldn’t tell; his eyeglasses glared.

PhD thesis was his focus, he said. He’d phone her, he said. Took her number.

Weeks sped by. No call. Doorbell rang. She answered.

“Something to cheer up your studying,” he blushed, presenting a bouquet of daffodils.
“Would you like to see a movie when your exams are over?”

Eyes sparkled.

The Shoemaker, by Brian Mackinney

19/3/2021

Beppi was a poor shoemaker. Down to his last piece of leather he cut out the shoes ready to make next day and went to bed.

Next morning he found a pair of bright clean shoes on his workbench. A customer was so enchanted by them that she paid extra. Beppi bought more leather and more shoes were made. He became rich but curious.

On discovering that two naked little elves were the workers, Beppi decided to make them some clothes to keep themselves warm.

The elves dressed and danced. They danced out of the room and never came back.

Getting Nowhere, by Swapan K Banerjee

19/3/2021

He’s like a drifting boat bound by the wind’s whim alone; his soul often shinnying up an isolated hillock. To have an untrammeled view of what dominates the horizon. To make sense of a message scripted in the dark.

Sometimes he sleeps out when there’s promise of rain in the windless air. A Wilson’s snipe as company. Woken up as if by a seraphim, he finds a tree in the distance, stark aloof, shining in ghostly moonlight, with nary a concern of what might happen the next moment.

He slips up on his resolutions only to brood in the wild.

The Wizard of Is, by Ed N. White

19/3/2021

When my friend called and told me she had just lost her lease and needed to move away to another job, I was lost for words. I hoped I could reassure her that everything would go smoothly and that it was just another adventure, so I went to see the wizard.

He told me to tell her, “This, too, will pass, and only good things will follow.”

I leaned on his words for support and passed them along to her.

I know the wizard lives only in my imagination, but my friend is a real person. I feel better now.

Campaign Stop, by Hal Maclean

19/3/2021

The Secret Service pounced on the gunman. The governor calmed the crowd and gave the speech of his life. Pundits already thought he had an Electoral College lock but now they were talking landslide. Later, the governor and his wife, enjoying a last moment of privacy before the final hundred hour push to Election Day sat, hand in hand, in their greenhouse.

“Did you hear what that poor man was screaming?” She asked. “That you’re a lizard person?”

“Sad.” The governor agreed. His tongue lashed out six feet to snare a tasty moth. “We finished them off twenty years ago.”

Change for a Twenty, by Deborah Shrimplin

19/3/2021

In a small town coffee shop, MaryAnne stands behind the cashier's counter. In a nearby booth, two men are watching her. MaryAnne knows them well. She is their victim.

A regular customer, Ricky, rises from his seat to pay his bill. As he approaches her, MaryAnne thinks, "He looks nice. When he pays me, he always smiles and says good morning. He could be the right one. I have to try it."

MaryAnne takes Ricky's twenty dollar bill. With trembling hands, she slips a note in with his change.

"Please, help me. I've been abducted. I can't get out. Help."

Faces, by David Berger

19/3/2021

In an American city, not New York, faces began to appear on the sides of buildings: about ten faces a day. The faces were seven inches high and about four wide, standing out from the walls about three inches. Their features were vaguely ethnic: African, Asian, European, Middle Eastern; you get the point. At first they were considered graffiti, attached to the walls. But soon it was discovered they came from whatever stone the building was made of. At first, they were chiseled off the walls and destroyed. Now, with more of them appearing daily, they’re a big tourist attraction.

The Wish, by Melody Merrell

19/3/2021

Radiant, almost blinding sunlight, an endless blue ocean so clear, the bottom of the ocean can be seen for a half mile from shore. Warm sand catches blazes of sunlight and it glitters as brightly as twinkling Christmas lights. Billowy clouds slowly, changing their shapes as they meander across the sky. In the distance, the language of birds can be heard. There’s a breeze, ever so gentle. It cannot be seen, but its presence is obvious by its careful disruption of the tall trees. I open my eyes, you’re not here, and you’re not there. I wish you were there.

Small Wonders, by Angela Carlton

19/3/2021

After my Sister’s burial, the kitchen’s packed with delicious food. My mother won't eat nothing. But I’ll open up windows for some cool air, and play her records. Mother likes that song by the blind man with the “w-o-n-d-e-r” word in his name. He sings about “believing in things that you don't understand.” It's got a sound, this groove, my nine-year-old-self can shake to.

“You like that?" I´ll ask.

And maybe they’ll be a part of her that will look past the black fog, something could stir inside. She’ll listen and know.

My mother will see that it's me.

Shifting Loyalty, by Sivan Pillai

19/3/2021

I had planned it as a surprise wedding gift to my son. A house in a posh locality, with plenty of space for all the three of us. My hush-hush savings of a lifetime.

“Dad, Martha wants me to move with her after the wedding. Don’t worry, I’ll be just a phone call away.”

That was a few days before his wedding.

I had hoped he would be with me till the end.

Thank God he told me in time.

I can now move to a decent old age facility, thanks to the fat bank balance, any time I wanted.

Mud, by Connor Sassmannshausen

19/3/2021

They were children together, playing in mud after a rainstorm. Their parents pulled them apart, scolding them for getting dirty.

A few years later, he pushed her into the mud, and she threw a handful into his face.

More time passed. She pushed him into the mud this time, and he laughed, pulling her in after him.

Their honeymoon took them backpacking and into the mud once again they went, laughing as they came out covered.

They found their child in the mud with another, whose parents scolded.

They on the other hand, joined their little girl in the mud.

The German Greeting, by Bill Cox

19/3/2021

The Traveller, standing at the corner of the busy urban intersection, caught the eye of a passing smartly-dressed man.

“Excuse me, Sir,” he asked, “This may sound like an unusual request, but could you confirm the year for me?”

The man looked puzzled for a split second, but then shrugged his shoulders.

“Of course,” he responded, “It’s 1952”.

“Ah! Thank you,” the Traveller replied.

“You are welcome,” said the man, turning to continue on his way, “Heil Hitler”.

The man walked on. The Traveller sighed.

His work as a Temporal Adjustments Officer wasn’t over yet!

Secrets, by Jim Woessner

19/3/2021

John told Paul who told Holly who told me. It was supposed to be a secret, but there it was out in the open, exposed. So much for secrets. So I rushed to tell Alice. Otherwise, she would have found out from John, and I couldn’t let that happen. But it turned out I was too late. She already knew. Everyone knew before I did, not that I minded. I’ve got a lot of dirt on John, but I won’t tell unless he gives up what he knows about Paul’s infidelities. Secrets are like pizza. They’re meant to be shared.

Arachnophobia, by Sandra James

19/3/2021

We met online; had lots in common. Both divorced. Similar tastes in music, movies, and art. I told her I hated spiders. She detests mice. A perfect match.

After several coffee dates, and meals at cosy restaurants… she invited me home for dinner, an evening in front of the TV and… well, whatever else followed.

I knocked. ‘Come in,’ she called.

I stepped inside. They were everywhere. Entry, lounge, kitchen. I didn’t get to the bedroom. Spiders, gangly legs waving at me.

I ran, as fast as mine would take me.

Chlorophytum comosum, spider plant. As creepy as real arachnids.

Wanderlust, by Sue Clayton

19/3/2021

They wander through a dormant wilderness, hungering for a place to call home. For eons they’ve remained quiescent, stifled in obscurity, unable to entertain, educate, elucidate, evaluate; or even excruciate.

Until innovative minds ascend from the wilderness to discern a solution to the wanderers’ dilemma; to quench their lusting appetites.

Erudite sages finally deduce how to release the creativity eddying around their imaginative minds and stream forth fables, prose and lyrics.

Nomadic words no longer need to roam. Freed from mindless captivity they colonize their eternal homes of papyrus, parchment, wood and skin.

Books are launched into civilization.

Clue, by Jeffrey Griffiths

12/3/2021

My fantasy of an evening of good conversation evaporated when Diane came into the living room with four cocktails on a pink tray and George with a game of Clue in his hands.

I hated board games; they reminded me of fighting with my sisters when we were kids. A game of Monopoly would always end with one of us sweeping everything off the board in a rage. And the next morning, my dad in bare feet yelling when he stepped on a Hotel that had buried itself in the shag carpet.

Writing Schedule, by Russell Conover

12/3/2021

Don felt guilty for missing the past two weeks submitting his poetry online. Usually he posted religiously, but he'd been busy at work and let his writing slip. He was disappointed, but felt determined to redeem himself

But how? Writing during the week was difficult after long workdays. He rarely had the time to be creative at night. He sighed, seeing his passion slip away.

Then it hit him. Write the weekend before, and post the following Friday. It seemed like the perfect way to remain current and retain sanity. Don smiled. His poetry would continue, one way or another.

The Beast, by JL Lister

12/3/2021

Four days since I woke from a blessed nine hours, longest stretch in ten years or more. I survey the wasted decade, approximating a human. The empties, naturally, but other refuse too: books belonging to the loved yet estranged and artefacts from when I knew how to use my hands. The terrors ceased after a few horrifying days but there are dangers in feeling good: susceptibility to self-deceit surges when one thinks themselves stronger than their worst day. If I wasn’t convinced before, the sirens tell me otherwise. The doctor’s warning shrills as my throat fills with bile and blood.

Redistribution, by Jennifer Lai

12/3/2021

Five pairs of faux-bloodied hands dug furiously into my candy basket.

“Don’t be greedy,” said the adult companion standing behind them. “Save some for the other trick-or-treaters.”

“Nonsense.” I swatted my hand loosely in the air. “Take as much as you want. There’s a lot more where that came from.”

After the kids left, I turned to my son and daughter sorting through their Halloween treats.

“Hey guys, we’re getting low. Are you ready to do another round?”

My daughter removed her gorilla mask, dumped her unwanted candy into my basket, then asked, “Can I dress as Cinderella this time?”

The Birthmark, by Sivan Pillai

12/3/2021

The cadaver smelled like hell, but I didn’t mind. I didn’t look at its face, either. We, the medical students, were instructed to respect them but consider them merely as tools of learning.

Holding the scalpel between my index finger and thumb and maintaining a proper angle, I got ready to open the skin over a strange birthmark and stopped.

“He had an unusual birthmark below his knee. Like the face of a laughing monkey”, Dad had told me about his brother who had vanished a few days after returning from a bombing expedition in Afghanistan.

Dinghy, by Jim Woessner

12/3/2021

So I bought this used dinghy to convert into a motorboat for the family. Such a deal. I paid practically nothing. Of course I had to buy oars, oarlocks, new lines, fenders, and an anchor. I also needed an outboard, plus a gas can, cushions, and a boat cover to protect it when it rains. I bought life jackets for everyone, put the kids through a boat safety course, purchased insurance, and registered it with the state. It was the new floating dock that really set me back. Cost me thousands. But hey, look what I saved. Such a deal!

Emilia's Knife, by Josie Gilbert

12/3/2021

Emilia wrapped the bloody knife in a tissue, then held it close to her body with one hand and lifted the books with the other. No-one noticed the concealed weapon as she headed across the library to the seldom used metaphysics section, clutching her burden tightly and smiling at any visitors who crossed her path. She wiped the knife handle to remove her fingerprints, then hid it behind an unloved tome. The police would find it – eventually. Then Emilia calmly walked to the toilet and flushed away the gory tissue. Finally, she laughed. How she loved murder mystery evenings!

The Winding Road, by Deborah Shrimplin

12/3/2021

Christina pulled over to the side of the road and turned off the stolen Harley.

"What a fool I was. What an absolute fool." she thought.

She opened her packback and took out a can of warm beer. After guzzling it, she touched the cigarette burn on her arm. She relived that fateful moment and thought of her own stupidity. She had thought he would change for her.

"Such stupidity." she whispered.

She climbed back on his pride and joy and stared down the winding road. She reved the engine, released the brake and drove on.

Her Name Was Patti, by Melody Merrell

12/3/2021

We met in Junior High. We didn’t live in the same neighborhood, or attend the same school, but our mothers were friends so we saw each other often. We were BFF’s before that was a thing. We talked almost every day and about everything, well everything important. Conversations of boys, clothes, hairstyles, teachers, how to sneak cigarettes, top 10 music and our never- understanding parents. I have thought so often and tried to remember how it happened, but I can’t. I cannot for the life of me remember how that friendship slipped away. How did I lose something so important?

Opportunities, by Jennifer Duncan

12/3/2021

Gerry was quick to seize an opportunity.

A farmer gave him a deal on a dozen peacocks. The birds were worth $75 each; for Gerry, $100 for the flock. A month later, the peacocks had flown the coup.

On to the next venture. A new widget had been designed and stocks were bound to soar. Gerry jumped in and quickly free fell to zero.

Undaunted, he snapped up some valuable baseball cards. Who knew they weren't popular anymore?

An orchard would grow money. Bad luck. Bugs and drought killed the trees.

All things considered, Gerry had the minus touch.

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