Blog Archives

Chapter 3, by Amy Friedman

30/5/2017

“I remember being born, Mama, I do!” Molly said. “I was floating in your belly. Then I was in a tight tube, and I was squeezed and squeezed until I came out.”

I smiled at her. I’d heard this before. “What else do you remember,” I said gently.

“The lights were so bright! And I was so cold. Someone hit me!”

“Quite a story for early in the morning,” I said, sighing inwardly. It was definitely time. “Eat your cereal. You’ll be late for school.”

“You don’t think I can remember,” Molly pouted.

“Honey, you were a caesarean,” I said.

Cat Stalking a Telepathic Canary, by Johann Lux

30/5/2017

Gloria, was sitting up in bed looking out the window. As I reached to touch her, I felt a sense of dread.

Outside a black bird flapping its wings hard and fast, heading straight for us, it flew through the window’s glass.

The bird perched at the foot of the bed. Gloria gasped then started to choke. The bird rose up and flew down her throat.
Gloria spat out feathers and curses galore, causing the bird to fly out and drop to the floor.

Gloria smacked my face, ending this dream. Then, from the kitchen, I heard her real-time scream.

Underwater Underworld, by Danielle Keating

30/5/2017

The beach was empty, so I didn't have to share the ocean. I had no swimsuit, so I took off my dress and went swimming in my mismatched underwear. It was refreshing until something wrapped around my ankle. I thought it was seaweed until it yanked me and I saw a face under the water. For once, having seaweed wrap around your leg was the horror it felt like. Saltwater may have blurred my vision at the time, but I swear the last thing I saw was the gates of Hell. Hell's more watery than anyone would think.

The Chess Players, by Ian Fletcher

29/5/2017

The best players at school, we competed for board one. I inherited it when Paul, a year ahead of Mike and myself, left.

We heard he dropped out, never going to university.

Mike and I went our separate ways, he becoming something big in computing, I a humbler schoolmaster.

Both of us quit serious chess.

Years later, on a whim, I googled Paul’s name, finding a little-used Facebook page, the profile pic a sad-looking bald man.

Single. 61.

Unemployed, seemingly, but a member of Coventry Chess Club, now a capable amateur player.

From my comfortable existence, I felt pity….and respect.

#WakeupAmerica, by Sankar Chatterjee

29/5/2017

Two giggling teenagers, one wearing a head-scarf, were riding the metro. They were planning their weekend activities. Suddenly, an angry-looking Caucasian man approached and started to threaten them with racially-insensitive violent words. Stunned seated passengers saw two concerned white individuals stood up against the bully. Then a few rapid flashes of a sharp knife from the bigoted perpetrator and two bloodied life-less heroes were lying on the floor.

The strongman never condemned the hideous crime, a direct consequence of his own bigotry during the electoral process. However, he also succeeded in insulting all the European allies in a recent foreign-trip.

Long Journey Home, by Bobby Warner

29/5/2017

They started early that morning for the long journey to Widdims County to work for several days felling trees. Josh took the reins; he loved to drive old Molly along the dusty roads.

They worked three days, the sawyers cutting and, they, the pullers, hauling down the trees.

Something slipped; there was much noise and confusion. And then it was time for him to take his dad and head home.

Morning broke as the wagon stopped in the front yard. His mother came out and stood on the porch.

"I'm back," said Josh, crying. "And I've brought Father home."

Bus Runner, by Guy Fletcher

27/5/2017

Colin sat bored on the commuter bus. He had a hangover and was not looking forward to 8 hours in a stuffy office.

All of a sudden he spotted a blonde woman start sprinting for the bus as if in the Olympics. it's amazing how fast people run to save a few minutes he mused, a sick part of him wishing she would miss it.

Then he recognised her as she sprinted past his window. Their eyes briefly locked. It was his ex-wife. The bus departed without her and memories filled his day of better times...now long in the past.

Paranoia Strikes Deep, by Amy Friedman

26/5/2017

“She wants me out.”

“C’mon. You’re being unrealistic.”

“Well everyone in the department gets fun stuff to do except me.”

“You don’t get work from her?”

“No. I make my own work.”

“Why are you complaining? You’re certainly more than busy enough.”

“Everyone’s stealing my work! I’ll be left with nothing!”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Don’t. She won’t sit next to me at lunch, won’t meet with me, won’t even talk to me.”

“She sat next to you at lunch today…”

“Well it was either that or sit across, and no way she was going to do that!”

If Only He Could See Me Now, by Johann Lux

26/5/2017

On my way to work I recalled Mr. Smith, my High School science teacher, who gave me a failing grade, because I was dating his daughter.

That failing grade kept me from attending MIT. I eventually received my science degrees from three other universities - none of which are MIT.

Now, as a structural engineer, I monitor safety crash tests, in which all makes and models are slammed into concrete walls via a catapult. These doomed vehicles include one very expensive dummy and 4 to 6 cadavers.

Coincidentally, today Mr. Smith’s body is strapped behind the wheel of an SUV.

#PrayforManchester, by Sankar Chatterjee

26/5/2017

“#PrayforManchester!” inscribed Sarah in her growing “#Prayfor” list. It already included London, Paris, Nice, Brussels, Mumbai, Jerusalem and many other international cities. A Rhodes Scholar studying at Oxford for a dual Master’s degree in history and economics, Sarah just started writing her history thesis on the rise of modern jihadism. Concurrently, she has been thinking about her economics thesis. The term “Oxfam Eight” documents that the world’s eight richest billionaires now collectively own more wealth than the poorest 25%, equating to 1.8 billion people!

Mourning for the victims, Sarah wondered “With so much inequality, how could anyone stop jihadism anywhere?”

Who'd Have Thought It? by Fliss Zakaszewska

26/5/2017

“Happy First Birthday Edward!”

“Happy Birthday to you too, Helen! Yes, a year already!”

Helen smiled and nodded at her boss. A year ago the whole company, from Directors down to admin staff had laughed at him. “What? Move the IT operation out of London?” they’d scoffed. “What a stupid idea!”

She looked around their shiny new offices and smiled again. Vision, guts and determination. Who’d have thought that ‘computer support’ could be run so successfully, so far from London that you’d fall off a cliff if you walked much further? “But he’s done it,” she murmured, “he’s done it”.

The Quiet, by Russell Conover

26/5/2017

Fred was gasping for breath. The alien invasion had stunned him and his friends, and he knew no one was safe.

But where’d the aliens go?

He strode through the dark office, his shoes tapping with every step. He was alone.

He started to think the worst was over, and sighed with relief.

Then the alien pounced.

Roaring, it leapt from the ceiling above and knocked Fred over. He smelled the foul breath, and saw the orange skin and sharp, gleaming teeth.

Desperate, Fred grabbed his keys and stabbed its arm. It wailed, releasing him and retreating.

Safe. For now.

Inside The Mind Of Evil, by Gordon Lawrie

26/5/2017

I am surrounded by filth, the unclean, the dregs, the unbelievers. I am surrounded by animals who, if left unculled, will live to breed and spread their dirt and endless wickedness. I am surrounded by perverts, liars and whores.

My duty is to cleanse. My duty is to bleach, to wipe the filthy animal presence from the Earth before it can do even more harm. I have come to disinfect.

I shall not fail. I shall be remembered for my courage, for my commitment to the one true faith, for my devotion to the highest cause.

My hour has come.

Bottle Head, by Bobby Warner

25/5/2017

Frank Heldsted was the nicest of guys, with the misfortune to be born with a head shaped like a glass milk bottle. Through school he was hounded unmercifully, called "freak,"goofy-headed monster," and even harsher nicknames, including the obvious one, "Bottle Head."

But Frank was gentle, friendly and generous, and bore no grudge to his tormentors.

After graduation, Frank met petite young Gladys Milburn, who had a head shaped like a cream pitcher and a personality as sweet as sugar. They married right away, and, through the continual rude leers and jeers of their fellow townsfolk, lived happily ever after.

Not As Usual, by Amy Friedman

25/5/2017

“It’s not the worst thing I’ve ever done,” he said, nibbling a cuticle.

“Seriously?” I said, leaning forward.

“Of course not. I’ve done far worse,” he said. His eyes bored into mine.

I stayed quiet and held his gaze, face calm, pen steady. Should I push him? I’d always protected him. He knew that.

“Do you want me to tell you?” he finally said.

I smiled my best smile, complete with tiny head tilt. “Sure, but it’s up to you,” I said.

He stood suddenly. Striding to the door, he pushed it shut, locking it with a snick.

I shivered.

The Return Of The Snow Queen, by Ian Fletcher

24/5/2017

After Aslan’s victory the land was governed by wise kings and queens.

In their humility they let the people elect their successors from anyone of royal blood.

A series of poor harvests after droughts left the people discontented.

They voted for the Snow Queen who had returned from exile.

“I promise summer rains from my homeland, but cold winters must return.”

The people accepted.

A few seasons later she proclaimed, “You no longer need to choose your leader. My rule is strong and stable.”

Now the land is covered in snow all year, and the Snow Queen will rule forever.

Office Work, by Johann Lux

21/5/2017

Julia lifted her head up from the long line of white powder on her desk top. She gasped, blinked her eyes and saw me seated opposite her.
“How the hell did you get into my office”, she snapped!
Extending my right hand, I responded with a smile, “You invited me”.
Julia tried phoning security, but there was no response.
She was about to bolt for the office door but froze at the sight of her body collapsed on the floor.
“Embolism-you died,” I nodded assuring her.
“No!” Julia shouted, “No”!
“Touch my hand and go to the light,” I said.

The Big Surprise, by Russell Conover

20/5/2017

Jim had no idea what was in store for him. He was told to arrive at the restaurant at 7 p.m. sharp, in casual clothes. A few friends had giggled and acted innocent when he asked them what was going on, so he knew something was up.

Jim sighed. “Might as well see what this is all about,” he thought, opening the restaurant door.

“SURPRISE!!”

He gasped as fifty or more of his closest friends greeted him. “Happy Birthday, buddy!”

“But, my birthday’s not till next week!”

“C’mon. That’s way too predictable. Plus, it’s never too early to party, right?”

Ego Spoils Wisdom, by Sankar Chatterjee

19/5/2017

Journalists have been working tirelessly to expose the truth. Daily, there are new revelations about the dictator’s past collusion with an arch enemy, followed by his interference into the investigation. He labeled the reporters as the “Enemies of the State”, a chilling reminiscent of Nazi Germany. A former playboy businessman with no experience in governance, he has been boastful of himself, a classic narcissist.

Baby-boomer Josh Lane had spent time in an ashram of an Indian guru during his turbulent youth in the ’70-s. He remembered him teaching: “Ego spoils wisdom. If wisdom is spoiled downfall comes to a man.”

Runaways, by Fliss Zakaszewska

19/5/2017

Daniel and Tricia ran past the waitress, through the open door and out of the café.

“Oi!” she called as she waved the bill, turning to walk to the table.

Helen sighed as the woman approached her. They surveyed the detritus on the table; the remains of three Very Filling All-Day Breakfasts (as claimed on the blackboard).

“Left you to it, did they?”

“Huh-huh. And not for the first time.”

The woman started to clear the table. “Smokers, eh! Can’t wait, can they?”

Helen grinned. “I know, but I’ve learnt. I get the money out of them before we order!”

Sickness Circle, by Virginia Marybury

19/5/2017

It's all round.

Chipped circle-rims. Teabags swollen with workplace rage.

The rota to make the tea is round, too.

Everyone ignores the washing up in turn, then they poison one another with dregs of mould.

Whose turn is it next?

Beautiful Boy, by Guy Fletcher

19/5/2017

He used to be a beautiful boy, immaculate peroxide hair like Billy Idol but years of alcohol had taken its toll. His skin was now yellow, hair balding and a beer pot developing.

James took his usual seat at the local pub on a wet Friday night.

"Do you fancy joining us, my darling?" he asked a young lady.

"No thanks though you're not bad looking...for someone your age."

He was Lancelot at the Round Table but the knights were ever diminishing. Peering in the pub mirror he saw the awful truth. His allure had disappeared.

Life And Death In The Night Sky, by Gordon Lawrie

19/5/2017

The owl floated across the fields, between the trees, searching for anything that would feed his newborn chicks. The rain had ceased and he could hear easily; he would also be aided as voles and mice looked for food after the storm.

His eyes took in the landscape, but as he flew he turned his head, scanning for something juicy with his ears and that large facial disc.

Suddenly he heard a decent-sized field vole move below. Three silent beats later, he had another snack for the brood to fight over. The vole wouldn’t have to worry about food again.

Exposed Kiss, by Edward Ganthier

16/5/2017

The slit of his mouth collided with mine: teeth mashed, saliva drooled down our lips, and I tasted the salt of his leakage. Fingers slid in my hand to weave with mine.

“Mhm,” I mouthed.

“Like that, Andrew?” he asked, suckling down to my neck.

My breathing came in short, rasping spikes.

He laughed, I felt the warmth crawl on my skin

The door creaked open, light exposed our midnight kissing. He retracted from me quickly.

“Stewart!” croaked a feminine voice in shock.

“Marta?!” he questioned, my hand still in his. “Please, don’t tell!”

“You two?!” she gasped. “Oh God!”

Another Splendid Pot Roast, by Johann Lux

16/5/2017

Friday evenings, I find myself at home, melting into a recliner, where I weed the workweek’s chaos out of my mind.

I inevitably surrender, first to sleep, then to a dream in which I’m floating like smoke toward a horizon that separates time from space. Below me, the face of every surface is smiling and I’m smiling back.

While drifting through herds of pearl-white clouds, a dreamy voice whispers,” You cannot stay here”.

A poke to center of my chest ends the dream.

I see my wife, she says, “Dinner”.

With a grin, I follow her to the dining room.

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