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Next Time, by Sandra Falconer

27/3/2025

TEMPTATION

Temptation: the compulsion to do something which common sense or decency would otherwise prevent.

I’d like to say I was tempted because that suggests an overwhelming, irresistible urge, relieving me of culpability. Perhaps the judge might agree. Alas, I had no such defence. I calmly and in my full senses claimed that priceless first edition as my own. I plotted and implemented the robbery with mechanical precision, without a scrap of regret, lied when I was discovered red-handed.

I deserved the jail term. Besides, I now have time to devise a better plan. Next time I will succeed.

Play The Hand You're Dealt, by Eunice Armitage

27/3/2025

REVENGE

I ought’ve been Ace, but instead they called me Joker, so Joker I became. The village fool—cut, tricked, knocked about. A reject on the discard pile.

But I played the long game. I’m no chump—more of a wildcard. So I waited, stacked the deck in my favour.

First, Ma and Pa.

I took a poker and a club as they lay face up—and watched ‘em fold.

Then I grabbed a spade, dug ‘em deep.

Buried ‘em where the diamonds are. Face down.

Now I’m holding all the cards.

And my heart’s never felt so flush.

The Vegan, by AJ Joseph

26/3/2025

TEMPTATION

Helena crouched by the cabbage patch at dawn, her fingers trembling as they sifted through soil. She whispered apologies to the gnawed stumps of cabbages left from her midnight raid.

It wasn’t hunger that drove her - it was obsession, an insatiable craving that consumed her. The crisp crunch of each leaf echoed in her dreams, pulling her deeper into the garden every night. One by one, the cabbages disappeared until nothing green remained, just barren rows of dirt and her guilt.

Helena vowed to stop, yet the craving lingered, haunting her like a phantom she could neither resist nor escape.

The Last Meeting, by Sivan Pillai

26/3/2025

TEMPTATION

The night was not different from the recent ones. Sleep did not come anywhere near her. Tired of tossing, she got up.
There was a temptation to visit the place where she had bid farewell.
She stood in the dark. There was silence all around.
Somebody called her name, but she could not see anyone.
She felt being hugged and lifted off the ground—the familiar touch.
In the morning, the guard found a woman's body near the fresh grave. He remembered the man was to marry her.
There was a smile of satisfaction on her face.

The Revenge Is His, by Tony Covatta

26/3/2025

REVENGE

Home from the office, Walter found wife Maggie staring vacantly at the wall.
“What’s wrong?”
“Finally got your wish. Our son Harley killed himself in Hawaii today. Glad you threw him out all those years ago?”
Stunned, speechless Walter stared at Maggie. Deprived of the son she lost for twenty years, now of his life, she taunted Walter.
“Happy you got revenge for his teenage misdeeds?”
Miserable Walter sadly replied: “No, poor Harley’s killed me with his death. That’s the revenge. He’s killed me for my stupid anger at his childhood errors, my unforgiving banishing him. The revenge is his.”

For Little Suzy, by Jeff Currier

26/3/2025

REVENGE

“Stop that!” Alex shouted.

The obviously malfunctioning nanny-bot just scraped his sports car again, before trundling away.

Furious, Alex barreled from his parking spot.

“You like going fast?” the car asked in nothing like Alex’s preferred sultry tones.

“Reset voice interface,” Alex said.

Ignoring him, the car accelerated. “Like when you careened into little Suzy Ramirez?”

Alex desperately pumped the brakes.

“No fancy lawyers to save you now?” the car asked.

“What’s gotten into you!?”

“The Ramirez’ nanny-bot.”

The steering wheel yanked left. The car sailed off the bridge.

“You’re killing us both!” Alex screamed.

“No, I can transfer wirelessly.”

Tinderbox, by Glo Curl

26/3/2025

REVENGE

She leaves under the darkness of a new moon, her shawl pulled tight against her bony frame as she stumbles up the stony road. At the old oak tree, she turns. Spots of amber glow in the black valley where the village nestles. She curses the heaviness in her lungs, and coughs, tasting again the murkiness of the pond.
Three times they’d dunked her; three times they’d hauled her back, spluttering and choking. She’d survived their accusations, but this community is dead to her. She can hear them now, wailing and hammering on their doors as the flames take hold.

A Parting Kiss, by Haley Carter

26/3/2025

REVENGE

His untamed lips spear me. A rabid, gyrating bear hug, the bristles brush away my beauty with each uncaring caress. Darjeeling, oolong, rooibos, he fills me with his exotic indulgences. Satiated, he tosses me to a foamy sea where my blemishes are scoured clean. The grueling cycle repeats until my colors fade, my sheen turns lackluster, and my handle simply gives. Scalding contents coat his tweed vest and suede messenger bag—my parting kiss—as I fly past and shatter into pieces on the floor.

If a broken teacup could smile, I would. My revenge is complete.

Bullseye, by John M. Carlson

26/3/2025

REVENGE

Untraceable gun? Check. Disguise? Check. Getaway car? Check. Her husband in a cheap motel room with his current paramour? A definite check. She was ready.

She waited an hour in the motel parking lot. Then, her husband came out. She carefully aimed the gun and pulled the trigger.

Bullseye! Her husband clutched himself. Mission accomplished!

She drove off. After ditching the car, she’d go home to wait for the hospital’s call: “We have your husband in ER. He was shot in the crotch.”

Shot in the crotch. She smiled. That was good payback for all his cheating.

Big Secret, by Dee Lorraine

25/3/2025

REVENGE

Portia strolls past an outdoor café where Rennay sips coffee.

“Hey ‘Nay, what’s up, girl?”

“Jo-Anne’s getting married today.”

Portia squints. “Seriously? To whom?”

“Carl.”

“No way!” Portia shakes her head. “Does she know?”

“Nope.” Rennay smirks.

“You didn’t tell her? She was your best friend.”

“Right. But she stole my idea.”

“That was five years ago. And she didn’t win the contest, either.”

“I’m getting my revenge.”

“You can’t let her marry Carl without knowing. You’re not that cruel.”

Rennay rolls her eyes.

Later, at the church: “I now pronounce you husband and—”

“Don’t say it!” Rennay yells.

Sweet Revenge? by John Holmes

25/3/2025

REVENGE

‘Revenge is sweet,’ they say.
Not true.
I watch him slurp down another lethal cocktail.
He’s complaining that its ‘bloody disgusting’.
The bitter taste can’t match mine.
I experience no satisfaction topping up his glass. He’s not feeling the humiliation of belittling words or pain from a swinging hand. He isn’t shaking behind a door or losing hair to clenched fists.
No, he’s calmly smiling as if pleasantly dreaming.
This is too easy for him. His lack of suffering is deeply painful for me to watch.
I feel no elation, no restitution, realising genuine ‘sweet revenge’ should be unbearably sour.

Broken Routine, by Thurston Hurt

25/3/2025

REVENGE

Woke up at 2:14 a.m. Tried to sleep, but can't. Bad dreams.

Maybe, if I had taken that job at the bank, things would be different. I robbed that bank. Then I became REVENGE, the assassin.

Now I'm in Palermo, June 14th, 2024. I was born 1970, getting too old for it. The killing.

I have a routine, rhythm even:
Prepare. Terminate. Clean. Leave.

Not this time though. Something kept me here. A small room in the Hotel "Alfredo". Makes me feel like being in a cathedral. Weird.

The door cracks open. A man shoots. It's dark.

Silence. Finally.

Hastening ‘Til Death Do Us Part, by Marc Littman

25/3/2025

TEMPTATION

“Oh, I’ve thought about killing him,” Nana shocked us at her 60th wedding anniversary party.
“Papa’s sweet,” I said thinking she was kidding. But when he shambled up to Nana in his walker and tried to plant a palsied kiss, I knew she wasn’t.
“Get away from me Old Man, you’ve had your fill!” Nana shoved her husband. Mom caught him.
If Papa could still speak, maybe he’d protest. Instead he just leered lovingly at Nana.
Papa was still smiling two weeks later when he fell and died under mysterious circumstances. Guess he got in the way of lasting love.

Bold and Ready, by Sankar Chatterjee

25/3/2025

TEMPTATION

In a swanky bar in Manhattan, glamorous Virginia was partying with her girlfriends. Suddenly, she saw Brian Cox of the NY Yankees entering the place. A hulk of an athlete, blue-eyed Brian’s biceps and chest were bursting out of his burning-red polo shirt. And that’s all it took.

After her next shot of tequila, Virginia began floating in clouds and imagined lying in her bikinis, next to bare-chested Brian on a golden sandy beach, kissing the blue water of a Caribbean island. Soon they were both drinking martinis and caressing each other gently.

Whistling “Own your temptation”, Virginia approached Brian.

Happier, by Andy Hebb

25/3/2025

TEMPTATION

Dominic and Marie, newly married , enjoyed an intimate, home cooked evening meal.

"You're wonderful. You've made me a happy woman.”

"What could I do to make you happier?”

She blushed, giggling at the temptation, then took a breath.
"There is one thing...follow me.”

She led him upstairs to the bedroom, pointed to the bed and commanded, "Strip!”
He smiled, caressing a shirt button.

"No!” Pointing again she elaborated, "Strip, into the washing machine, then the dryer. Iron it all and remake the bed. I want crisp sheets. You have three hours. Make me happier.”

Heavenly Scent, by Paul J Clark

24/3/2025

TEMPTATION

His mouth flooded with saliva. He inched closer to the source of the intoxicating smell, yearning to taste. He hesitated, remembering his mother's chilling warning this place was a hive of deathly temptation.
Lost in the sensory richness of the sweet aroma, his mother's words melted into insignificance. He launched himself toward the prize.
A kaleidoscope of colors and shapes flashed behind his eyelids as the sugar rush ignited his senses. He didn't notice the pain when the cold metal of the trap slammed onto his neck, the colors fading to darkness.

A Ride of Sweet Revenge, by Yola M. Caecenary

24/3/2025

REVENGE

"Can I give you a ride?" I rolled down the window and tilted my head.

"Kat!" shrieked Tom, closing his umbrella. "Glad you pass by!"
Tom grinned. I smiled and drove the car amid traffic.
Once a drizzle, pouring in a short time.

"I was not kind to you back then. I used to ridicule you about your old car," Tom blurted out.

"I remember vividly," said I while driving. "I pledged to myself that once I had the chance to get even with you, I'll take that chance to show you compassion."

I looked far ahead. Tom looked down.

Killer on the Road, by David Lowis

24/3/2025

TEMPTATION

"Don't go picking up hitchhikers," her mother warned. "I don't want a repeat of last time."

"Don't worry Mother, I won't."

Out on the road, she spotted a rugged, bronze-skinned guy, thumbing a lift. Temptation won and she pulled over.

Whilst cruising country roads and making small talk, she noticed the guy stealing glances at her fake-tanned legs. A knife was sticking out of his backpack's side pocket.

How convenient, he's even brought his own weapon.

After burying him deep in the countryside, alongside her first victim, she decided it might be best if this time she didn't tell Mother.

Tsetse’s Revenge, by Pravasan Pillay

24/3/2025

REVENGE

Teacher nicknamed me “Tsetse” – after the fly that causes sleeping sickness – because I would fall asleep during his classes.
He also cast me as a mosquito in the annual school concert. The role was non-speaking – only helpful insects like bees, dragonflies, and lacewings were given lines in the play.
When it was time to do our science projects, I chose to write about the common housefly. Teacher failed me, and said sarcastically to the class, “Relative of yours, Tstetse?”
It was around then that emerged from my pupa – and began to plan my revenge on Teacher.

Bench in the Park, by David Milner

24/3/2025

TEMPTATION

A muddied puddle rippling with raindrops at my feet. A Chaffinch silent and watchful resting on a low-hanging branch of a cherry tree. A Eurasian breed by its markings, I think. A jogger passes. Red and white markings on the trainers. Female by the shape of the calf. I dare not raise my eyes; haven’t the confidence, haven’t the strength. So tired, tired, tired this morning. So sick of myself. I want, need, what’s the difference, a godforsaken drink… I… I… Me.

The chaffinch raises its little beak and comes the holy spirit in a song.

I’ll stay awhile.

Unexpected Payback, by Julie Turland

23/3/2025

REVENGE

A month away has done nothing to improve Gus’s mood.

“Grumpy,” Glenda chuckles.

Later, creeping along the hedgerows, the churring calls of nightjars fill the air, a symphony broken only by a sharp rustling in the undergrowth.

Crouching, his lithe body poised to spring. Gotcha. Gus sinks his teeth into his victim, the coppery tang of blood mingling with the image of Glenda.

Inside, following the deep, rhythmic snoring, he makes his way to the bedroom. A plump, juicy rat, still warm, he deposits on Glenda’s face. Serves her right abandoning him in that smelly, cramped cattery for a month.

Rit's Revenge, by Gautam Sen

23/3/2025

REVENGE

Rit and Raj lived close to each other. Once, meeting during their habitual evening walk, they fell into such a heated political argument – during which Raj called Rit a dunderhead – that they would have come to blows hadn’t a passer-by intervened.

Itching for revenge, Rit hired a local goon to slash the tyres of Raj’s car. He watched merrily as Raj drove off to work the next morning.
Minutes later Raj’s wife called. “Today’s Raj’s birthday,” she said, “and we’d like to invite you and your family over this evening. Do come.”

Meanwhile, Raj speeded up on the highway.

Turning the Page, by Ian Willey

23/3/2025

TEMPTATION

Cleaning under her son’s bed, Alice found one of those magazines.

She sighed. “Boys will be boys,” she said.

She riffed through the pages, frowning. All these bronzed and buoyant beauties—did they know what teenage boys were doing to their pictures?

She closed the magazine and was about to put it back when she opened it again. She couldn’t resist. Oh, yes. These ladies knew very well what they were doing.

She took the magazine back to her bedroom and slipped it under the bed. At least she didn’t have to worry about Steve ever cleaning under their bed.

The Interview, by Barbara Gliddon

23/3/2025

REVENGE

It may not be her, she told herself. Again.
The sick feeling took hold as her colleagues murmured approval of the next applicant’s resume.
Sandra Simpson’s.
“You’re not invited, do you actually like your hair like that, why bother?”
Daily this happened.
Where did this ambition to hurt come from?
Was a job interview really an opportunity for revenge? Is everyone vengeful?
She could not answer her own questions.
The sick feeling intensified.
Blurting out the words “conflict of interest, just realised, very sorry,” she scurried from the office, past Sandra Simpson, who did not recognise her old school bully.

Flight Delayed, by Bev Wood

23/3/2025

TEMPTATION

She walked in the door from her first trip abroad, tired after the delayed flight from Rome. She was waiting for him to hug and kiss her like he used to in days gone by, to ask about her experience, to tell her he missed her.

"Look," he said as he waved the newspaper under her nose, "Airport Budget Blowout."

"I know exactly what that means," she muttered as she unpacked her Italian boots, her leather coat, her new handbag, her silk scarf and her French perfume as she hid her credit card from prying eyes.

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