Blog Archives

The Visit, by Sivan Pillai

28/4/2023

The urge to visit my ancestral home was overpowering. Do it while you're physically fit, friends advised me. At least as a temporary change from the luxurious home in the city.
The home was empty but alive with the memories of my childhood, hard-working parents, sisters, and brother. And the beatings and occasional hugs. I thought I heard familiar voices calling my name at night.
Some of my childhood friends were alive. When prodded, they recollected some incidents but didn't seem interested.
I consoled myself while boarding the plane back: "Tried, but the river refused to flow back."

Your Local Pharmacy, by Bryan Vale

28/4/2023

The line stretched out piecemeal under flickering fluorescent rays. Square dirty white tiles, fashionable in the early '90s, supported pairs of peeling rubber athletic shoe soles.

Too many pairs. Shuffling forward every five minutes, or every ten. The row of clients curved around the outside edge of the store's interior like a stalled bottling plant assembly line, ending finally on the other side of automatic sliding doors, out in the middle of the parking lot.

"Next," came the call from the pharmacy window. The line of faces, expectant and angry, all looked forward together at the sound. Everyone moved up.

Starting Over, by Jenna Hanan Moore

28/4/2023

I cried the day John Lennon died. Though I was old enough to know celebrity crushes weren’t real, it felt like losing a friend.

But you were there to comfort me and make me mix tapes. Friendship turned to love, and love turned to a lifetime.

Last night I cried the way I did that day. I missed the rush of joy and delight that came from new love. You didn’t let on that you felt the same way. You showed me plane tickets to Hawaii and said, “Let’s take a second honeymoon. It’ll be, well, just like starting over.”

Unhappy Family, by Mary K. Curran

28/4/2023

Distraught, Anna wishes to end forever her heartache.
She had a husband, Alex, calm and capable in public but stern and malicious at home. He disapproved of her friends and social life, denied her visits with their young son.
She had a passionate lover, also named Alex, and was content until his devotion to her cooled and he volunteered for war.
She makes a final decision.
At the station she waits on the platform and hears a shrill whistle.
Deep breath. Quick prayer. Steady now.
She deliberately steps forward.
The train stops with a sigh and Anna climbs on board.

Ghost Trams, by Gordon Lawrie

28/4/2023

Occasionally, a Ghost Tram could be seen running through the Edinburgh streets. The tram's passengers gazed vacantly from the carriage windows, seemingly unaware of the world outside. For the most part, the passengers seemed to be alone.

Although these Ghost Trams stopped at every station, no one ever seemed to get on or off; everyone waiting took the next tram instead.

One day, as I was standing on a platform, a ticket inspector explained the mystery.

“Ghost Trams take the souls of the departed to the terminus,” he explained. “You only make one journey.”

Then he added, “Here’s your ticket.”

Difficult Alice, by Linda Allison

28/4/2023

She chain-smoked in her father’s white house and snuck whiskey. Arriving at a grand party with a large snake around her neck, Alice shocked the fine ladies in attendance, their shrieks drowning out the expensive orchestra. Her father, Teddy, traveled often, and Alice, who adored him in a way that bordered on unhealthy, went out of her way to garner his attention whenever he was home. Alice once interrupted a meeting so often that her exasperated father finally exclaimed, “I can do one of two things. I can be President of this United States, or I can control Alice Roosevelt.”

Body of Evidence, by Paul A. Freeman

28/4/2023

Christine surreptitiously observed from her bedroom window. Across the road, Jack, the neighbourhood newcomer, had his garage door open.

“Body parts!” she squeaked, as Jack carried a dismembered leg down the driveway to the general waste bin, followed by a second leg, two arms, a torso and a head. “I bet it’s his wife.”

Christine dialled 999.

Five minutes later, a policeman opened the bin, gasped and jumped back. Jack was closing the garage door. He sauntered over, then laughter ensued.

“I’m throwing out last year’s Halloween garden decorations,” Jack explained, loudly. “Has that curtain-twitching neighbour opposite grassed me up?”

The Reviewer Reviews, by Alan Moskowitz

28/4/2023

Forgoing the ordeal of trekking the out-back, I did the research for my review, “Australia’s Fabulous Wildlife,” online, in my hotel suite.

While typing, a little brown spider hopped onto the letter E.

A rolled-up magazine would suffice but I recently espoused that all creatures deserve to live. Still fearful of arachnid excreta contaminating my keyboard, I carefully pushed the creepy-crawly onto an index card.

It bit my finger, then jumped onto my other hand, bit again, and escaped. In minutes both arms were paralyzed, and it was getting hard to breathe.

My final review? Bugger Australia’s Wildlife.

If You Only Have a Lemon, Make Lemonade, by Tony Covatta

28/4/2023

“Dad, I’m applying to the Peace Corps.”
“Great Fred. I’ll tell Mom.”
“Jayne, Fred’s joining the Peace Corps. Finally settling down.”
“Ted, are you crazy? College, eight years, bartending three. Now smoking grass in Guatemala? Nope. I’ll call him.”
“Fred, it’s Mom. Here’s an idea for you. Law school. You think like a lawyer—”
“I do?”
“Yep. I’ll pay for your LSAT prep.”
Fred preps, applies to, is accepted by five schools. Three years pass. Fred, JD, graduates.
“Mom, thanks! How did you think of this?”
“Darling—you argued with everything we ever wanted. It jumped right at me.”

Franzblau's Third Card, by David Sydney

28/4/2023

"It's an inkblot, Dr. Franzblau."
"I know it is, Marvin. But let your mind go. Tell me if you see anything else."

Marvin studied the card the psychologist laid before him.
"I see a person."
"Anyone in particular?"
"No."
"Fine. Let's go on."

Marvin saw two people next.
"Anyone you recognize? Anything in particular?"
"These're inkblots, right?"
"No one, huh? Okay, try this one."

"My God."
He studied the next card.
"It's the same two people. Now I see what they're doing."
"Good, Marvin. Tell me."
"Dr. Franzblau, they're both looking at an inkblot."
"Inkblot?"
"This's getting worse and worse."

Lion Hunt, by JD Clapp

21/4/2023

The hounds cut the puma’s track. Fresh snow made tracking easy but walking hard.

The guide, the dog handler, 6 blue tick coonhounds, and a tom mountain lion were a hundred yards ahead. The barking grew louder, different, excited. The cat was treed.

I swung the tripod from shoulder. I found the large tom in the crook of a branch. I prepared for my shot.

I was winded, shaky.

“Take your time,” the guide said.

It was a beautiful creature—muscles rippled, tawny fur, piercing eyes. I took a breath and fired.

It was the best photo I ever took.

Hair of the Dog, by G. Lynn Brown

21/4/2023

"I don't know how to explain it." Her voice quivered. "And that's the most frightening part about it."

She bent down and picked a fleabane daisy from the grass. It smelled like expensive perfume, and she rubbed it on her wrists. She twirled the wildflower between her fingers, and a bumble bee buzzed around her.

"I need help." Her eyes glistened in the sunlight. "But I fear the only reprieve I can find comes from the source of my pain." She chuckled. "As though the vice itself is the cure." She shrugged. "I don't know how else to explain it."

The Gift of Rain, by Janice Siderius

21/4/2023

It has been raining off and on for four weeks. I was surprised because where I live rain is scarce. Water is a precious commodity and conservation is a habit.

At first, I didn’t understand how the rain would change my life. I loved the feel of the gentle drops as they caressed my naked arms. When the drops became a torrent, I recoiled from the harshness.
During the periods of sunlight, I turned my face upward the sky, luxuriating in the warmth and light.

I now fill the small crack in the concrete walkway.

Doppelganger, by Raya Winters

21/4/2023

“No, don't take her, no!” I scream, but they are already floating upward.
I jump and grab at her small feet. I reach as high as I can. I hear their tiny snickers.
“No!” I scream once more. But their wings beat fast and no matter how I try, they fly too high.
They are gone and so is she.
I look back at the picnic blanket and sitting there smiling at me with a toothy grin, a little girl.
She looks like the same little girl, but I know she isn't.

Everlasting, by Sue Clayton

21/4/2023

The gobstopper didn’t last as long as the guilt.

Our pocket money was long gone, spent on humbugs and sherbet lemons, so the ten shilling note was a bonus.

“Pick it up, Brian,” Lenny had nudged me.

“To give it back?”

“No way. We’ll buy ‘everlasting’ gobstoppers.”

The little old lady hadn’t noticed her purse fall from her handbag. It was pension day and she’d just come out of the post office, her pension had been inside.

Lenny removed the ten-shilling note, tossing aside the purse.

As I sucked on a gobstopper, my conscience began to suck on everlasting guilt.

Platero and I: Sugar, by Hervé Suys

21/4/2023

They came here for various reasons: they fled their homeland or were expelled from it. Often risking their life in rickety boats at an unreasonable high rate.
Willing to love the new lcquitand, but still honoring traditions.
Some religious, others not – but always most peculiar to us.
Today they celebrate Lent.
Dressed in colorful robes, even brighter than the ones fitted to you, Platero (or other donkeys) during harvest festivals, they treat neighbors, friends, aquaitances and even random passersby to fragrant sweets and honey-soaked pastries.
What a pity the doctor put me on a strict, sugar free diet last week.

Self-Protection, by Emma Burnett

21/4/2023

Headphones: on
Music: loud
Tuna sandwich: open
Bag: on the seat
Scowl: firmly in place
Train: moving again
But…
He stands in the aisle looking down at me. His mouth moves, so does a hand.
There are plenty of other open seats.
Music: off
Headphones: off
He speaks again. “Can I sit here?”
Blatant objection: “Why?”
“Why not?”
Bag: on the floor
Elbow: bumped
Heart rate: high
“So, what’s your name?”
Panic: panic, panic
Eyes: averted
Headphones: back on
Face: scowl on
“Jesus. I was just being nice. Bitch.”
Music: loud
Body: leans away
Train rides: uncomfortable, invasive
Mood: sad

Mrs Bowen Faces Her Fears, by Jo Riglar

21/4/2023

Mrs Bowen gave us waste food for the hens. Our bagful was always at her gate as we walked home.
Once it wasn't. We knocked on the door. No answer. We pushed the door and it flew open. Where was Mrs Bowen?

Flying overhead.
Her luminous wings were perfect for her body and her frail legs were pulled up.

We were gawking up with our mouths open.

'What are you doing up there?

'Well obviously I'm flying. I can see the village from here and I don't have to worry about cars when I'm crossing the scary road.'

The Cracks, by Sankar Chatterjee

21/4/2023

Inside Delphi Museum, John was appreciating the exquisite painting on a BC-era cylix (bowl), excavated from ancient ruins. Greek God Apollo, wearing a laurel and holding a lyre in left hand was pouring a libation. A crow in front alluded to his love-affair with Coronis.

He noticed the nearly invisible glued cracks, bringing back memories of a similar artifact in New York’s museum. He always wondered how that piece landed there. Anonymously, he alerted the FBI, forwarding an image.

Two years later, Greece received that treasure back. It was looted, broken carefully into pieces, sold and glued inside the museum.

January Thaw, by Sherri Bale

21/4/2023

Dumbo used his creaky trunk to tug the canvas off his head. His eyelids groaned open. Camel swung his hump on the 3rd hole, Zebra’s tail screeched as it swished on the 5th. Dumbo trumpeted, the sound like a screech of metal on metal, which, of course, it was. The unseasonably warm January day continued to loosen up the grease and oil, lubricating the joints of the animals of “Jungle World Mini Golf”.

It was all fun and games until Andy the Ape slipped out of the tree, landed on Harry Hippo in the slimy pond, and electrocuted them all.

Tim, by Gary Noble

21/4/2023

“Why do I have bellybutton fluff Grandad?”

“Because you have a fairy living in your bellybutton named Tim and he needs the fluff to keep warm.”

The young boy looked confused.

“What does Tim do?” he asked quizzically.

“As you grow older Tim will always be there to keep you safe and give you good advice. You can talk to him anytime you want.”

The young boy seemed happy with the reply.

He waited awhile then looked at his Grandad with a huge grin and said, “Tim’s your name Grandad.”

Grandad gave the boy a wink and a loving hug.

Late Bloom, by Brian Mackinney

21/4/2023

Florence was a spinster, a school ma’am secure in her classroom. Her life had been blighted when her fiancé went off to war and never came back. Each day she cycled the 10 miles to the school dedicating her life to the pupils.

When Florence retired she worked in a charity shop with the same energy and enthusiasm but released from the tensions of her responsibilities she became a more rounded, softer personality.

Her former colleagues were dumbfounded when they heard she had met a customer, married him and gone to live in a croft in northern Scotland. Born again.

Bella, by Tom Baldwin

21/4/2023

‘You haven’t paid for that perfume, have you, madam? Come with me, please.’

Confused, Bella followed the security guard to the office.

‘I would never steal,’ she said. ‘Look.’ Bella opened her handbag to show there was no perfume in it.

‘It’s your word against mine. You’re a very attractive girl. Perhaps…’ He hinted strongly about what she could do to have the charges dropped.

Bella pulled out her phone, showing the guard the live feed to a social media site, and the rapidly-increasing likes and shares.

‘I think this conversation should be on the record. Don’t you agree?’

The Key to Life, by Rosemary Johnson

21/4/2023

She upended her handbag and tipped the contents on to the doorstep. She remembered putting her key in there when she set off this morning. Definitely. ‘Ditsy Daisy’, they used to call her, but, now she had a job and her own flat, she was trying harder. She’d read in a self-help article online that you don’t lose things if you keep them in the same place. Routine is key.

Key? Where was the stupid thing? Then she spotted it, gleaming steel releasing itself from the depths of her bag, falling out and dropping through the grating.

Norman, by Phyllis Souza

21/4/2023

Norman stands near the entrance of “Yummy Donuts.”
He begs.
A man hands him a dollar and change.
Norman buys a cup of coffee and a donut hole.
Shabby. Hair tangled. Clothes frayed.
Norman sits outside next to the building.
He sips from a Styrofoam cup.
He opens the bag.
Sweetness escapes.
He eats the nugget.
His stomach hungers for more.
With his arms crossed, he lays on the ground.
He smothers the pain with a groan.
Coffee cup rolls. The bag flies.
Norman dies.

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