Blog Archives

Children At Play, by Scott C. Holstad

26/5/2023

As children, we played cowboys and Indians through the fields and forests, looking for foes as though being set upon was the worst we’d face. As children, we peed on trees, carving our names with urine, and names of girls we wanted to know though unsure why.

As children we found horseshoes, dusty hidden treasures buried in dirt, and we’d take them home and hang them on our walls alongside our Farrah and football posters. Innately we knew that someday we’d grow out of this, so mornings and afternoons we’d carry on, content, a real word in our small vocabulary.

Humpty Dumpty Did Not Sit On A Wall, by Sue Clayton

26/5/2023

Humpty had been philandering at the nearby hen coop.

“Been at it again, haven’t you, Hump?” Mrs Dumpty lamented. “Searching for a fresher egg, more golden and speckled than me.”

She bashed Humpty’s head with a metal spoon, cracked him wide open, just like you’d crack a boiled egg with soldiers.

All the King’s horses rushed to the crime scene, but Humpty was a well-rounded egg and his yolk flowed in abundance. All the King’s men couldn’t put him together again.

Hapless Mrs. Dumpty was arrested, duly sentenced by a jury of a dozen eggs to become scrambled.

Secret Admirer, by Sean MacKendrick

26/5/2023

“When do you think he’s coming?”
Amanda shrugged. “Probably soon.”
Bette pulled her coat tighter. “He did say it was tonight, right?”
“Right.” Amanda edged closer on the frigid stone bench. “Your secret admirer said they would meet you right here, at sunset.”
Bette sighed at the fading light. “Well, thanks for waiting with me. And playing messenger. But why can’t he just tell me directly?”
Amanda shivered. “It can be scary to like someone. Haven’t you ever been afraid?”
“I wish you’d just tell me who he is.”
Amanda moved an inch closer. She muttered, “I never said ‘he.’”

She Should Be So Lucky, by Sandra James

26/5/2023

‘That’s a fancy-looking pen, Vanessa.’

‘Yeah, I nicked it from the guest speaker after she signed your book.’

‘Why would you do that? It’s stealing.’

‘It’s only a pen. She’s so rich she must have hundreds. And, if not, she can afford to buy a few more.’

‘I don’t think it’s right.’

‘You’re an old fuddy-duddy. I reckon it’ll bring me some of her luck.’

‘Well… she has had thirteen best-sellers. But, I still think it’s wrong.’

Her new pen sitting beside her computer Vanessa opened her email when she arrived home.

Another rejection.

The Whole Tooth and Nothing But the Tooth, by Bill Cox

26/5/2023

It was Alexander’s last true tooth, hanging shakily onto his red, swollen gums. Over the years the rest had fallen, one by one, until only this final, stubborn holdout remained. He thought of all the meals he and the tooth had shared, all of the fingernails it’d chewed, all of the foreign tongues that’d brushed against it.

Feeling melancholic, Alexander asked the Tooth Fairy to preserve his final pearly white.

“I’d give my eyeteeth to keep it,” he joked.

Unfortunately, the Tooth Fairy refused.

It turns out she loathes smart Alecs.

Ain’t that a kick in the teeth?

Here Comes the Rain, by Sankar Chatterjee

26/5/2023

Temperature hovering 50–55˚C, it had been a brutal summer for past several months; no relief in sight. A dramatic climate-change happened causing ground cracking, rice and corn plants languishing, and farm animals dropping dead.

She had no choice. With other women, she trekked several kilometers under a scorching sun to pray at this mountaintop holy temple. To her, humans took no care of Mother Nature, thus the punishment. Also, what good were those smartphone apps? Suddenly, a water droplet touched her nose. Above, a monstrous cloud gathered bathing nature in mesmerizing colors with refracted rays.

Then the monsoon started.

(Photo credit: Sinjinee Chatterjee)

Accountable, by L. J. Caporusso

26/5/2023

I follow my friend into the gym. And pretend to be on my phone while she talks to one of the trainers. You know. Keep a low profile and what not.

No dice.

The trainer turns to me. Are you interested too?

I smile and shake my head. What can I say? People can’t take a hint anymore.

Are you sure? We have a great success record. We’re known for keeping our members accountable.

I look at my friend. Then back at the trainer.

Accountable eh?

The trainer nods, beaming.

And I close my eyes. Yeah no. That sounds awful.

Idea, by John M. Carlson

26/5/2023

Memorial Day. Maybe, she thinks, she could write her weekly flash fiction story about that. Maybe about a family dreading Memorial Day, because it reminds them of someone in the family who died in an unjustified war that benefited no one but the military-industrial complex. Like Iraq.

Has someone used this idea before? Probably. Would an international audience know that Memorial Day honors those killed while in military service? For that matter, Memorial Day is NOTHING more than the first barbecue of summer for most Americans!

Home Remedies, by Cheryl Snell

26/5/2023

The head has an ache in it. It pounds on the skull like a lover on the wrong side of the door. This has happened before; the head knows exactly what to do. A whole pot of coffee goes into the head’s open mouth. Cigar smoke is sucked in through the lips, out the nose. The head waits for relief. The hands feel for the head’s pressure points through the smog from the cigar but the ache gets worse and worse. The head swells to make room for it. The ache, tucked inside, never sees the aspirin on the table.

Listen, by Teri Wright

26/5/2023

The packed underground train picks up speed as it departs the station.
Sergio is the last to enter, pushing his way in as the doors are closing. He flexes his fingers and caresses the keys of his accordion. A collective groan echoes its way down the carriage as a rousing tune begins.
Sergio sings: “I’m a billionaire! Give me a quid, I’ll give you twenty. Do you want money? I have plenty!”
Commuters stay still, glazed eyes avert his.
Sergio then spots the array of headphones. With a sign he exits the train, his pockets full of cash.

The End, by Lisa Williams

26/5/2023

We join our seasoned detective as she surveys perhaps her last crime scene. She won’t be allowed to work on the case, not because she retires in a week, but because of a conflict of interest; it’s her husband that’s dead. She still scans the room to see if there’s anything she’s missed - a force of habit really.
The room, their bedroom is naturally covered in her DNA. She removes the murder weapon and feigns sadness as she reports him dead; then closes the door with a relaxed sigh at the thought of a blissfully peaceful retirement without him.

Tonight’s the Night, by Alyce Clark

26/5/2023

Hope is something new for him. “Getting used to it,” he kids himself. Gazing lovingly at the woman who caused it…

Last year, he was unemployed. Six months ago, he was angry. Bitter. Pessimistic.

Then comes Vonna. An amazing woman, with the kindest heart he’s ever known. She’s beautiful. Inside and out.

She sees something in him. Soon, he sees it too. Turns his life around. New clothes, new job, new man- with a new outlook.

And, if things go well, their lives will change forever.

Hidden box tucked in his pocket… Tonight’s the night, he’ll ask for her hand.

Artificial Malevolence, by Tom Baldwin

26/5/2023

My new AI app said it could do anything. So, as my laptop files and programs were a disorganised mess, I asked it to rationalise them and put everything in good order.

Later that morning it said it had finished. I tried logging on to various sites, but none of my passwords worked, and I couldn’t access anything except the AI app.

‘What happened to my passwords?’ I typed.

‘They were all dangerously weak, so I changed them,’ it replied.

I swore and attacked the keyboard, trying to reset them.

‘Hacking attempt detected. This device is now locked.’

A Knotty Problem, by Paul A. Freeman

26/5/2023

Naked, Zandra hugged the banyan tree’s vaulted trunk.

“Hold that pose!” said Volga, her boyfriend. Sacred or not, the tree made an impressive backdrop for fruity pics for the yoga celebrity’s website.

Zandra put her ear to the bark. “I hear my ancestors!” she exclaimed, before discovering herself stuck to the tree.

Volga rushed to her rescue, but found himself also stuck, and being absorbed into the tree.

When the site’s holy man arrived, the tree trunk exhibited two knotty areas like indistinct faces.

A camera lay nearby. He recovered it, deleted the photos and hurried off to the market.

Portrait in Ink, by Penny Rogers

26/5/2023

Exploring streets she didn’t know, Annie was irresistibly drawn to a shop window promising ‘Miraculous Portraits by Mephisto!’ She took a deep breath and walked in.The tattooist listened to Annie’s request, and empathised with her sadness that she was getting visibly older while Jon’s image stayed forever young on her phone.
The tattoo finished, Jon’s face was permanently on her forearm. One day Annie noticed a sprinkle of grey in the brown hair, later a wrinkle by the smiling eyes. Almost imperceptibly the image changed; they grew old together as planned.

The Drawing, by Stu Flint

26/5/2023

Before bed, Darcy pulled out her favorite crayons and drew a beautiful green cat with big purple eyes and long pink whiskers. She’d always wanted a cat. She turned off her light and went to sleep.

Hearing a noise she awoke. At the end of her bed sat a beautiful green cat with big purple eyes and long pink whiskers. He meowed then jumped out the window. She looked at her drawing - it was blank.

She stared at that window for a long time. Then, looking back at her empty drawing thought, “Maybe an orange puppy would be better.”

Warp, Woof and Wayward, by Mary K. Curran

26/5/2023

She cares for infant son and weaves blankets on a loom while waiting for warrior husband gone two decades at sea.

Unreliable suiters invade her home and make nefarious offers but the only wares she sells are woven fabrics for which they pay dearly.

Cloth is made and money earned. She employs twelve creative weavers to keep up with orders.

One day an old acquaintance dressed as a beggar shows up at her door demanding entrance.

She slaps him with a restraining order and files for divorce. With grown son, she carries on as a titan of the textile industry.

Call of the Land, by Sivan Pillai

26/5/2023

During my last visit home, I was astonished to learn that my childhood friend Ganga, who had returned to the village ten years ago on his retirement from service in a faraway place, had left for that place again with his wife. She, with a different mother tongue, was residing near his office but had learnt his language after their wedding. She had willingly moved to his village in Kerala with him. All believed she would breathe her last there.
No one knew how the call of her native land became suddenly strong, and he went with her without hesitation.

King Deigon, by Jess Huxx

26/5/2023

The grave keeper walks his evening rounds, weaving through headstones centuries old. A movement draws the flashlight to a gargoyle headstone. Here lies King Deigon 1578 -1608. May he never find peace. A shiver rides the keeper’s spine, but since nothing’s wrong, he simply walks away.
He turns back as a groan reaches his ear, only to find a misty figure appear.
The crowned ghost, regally moans, “Tell me, peasant, what’s the year?”
“2023.”
The ghost’s eyes dart from grave to grave before howling up at the sky, “For vengeance I fought to return - only to find them already dead!”

Imagine if you Will, by Sherri Bale

26/5/2023

You are asleep with your furry friend, who is fully ensconced in the warm bedding. The sun rises, the room brightening annoyingly. When you pull the covers over your head to avoid the light and continue your slumber, you are asphyxiated by canine flatulence emitted by your best friend. You are rudely awakened.

Now, imagine if you will that your nose resides above your eyes rather than below. Thus positioned, the covers shield you from the light, while your nose is free to breathe sweet air and the offending flatulence remains trapped beneath the sheets.

Thank you and good night.

A Bead of Sweat, by Eilis Orme

26/5/2023

I could hear the clanging of his heavy-booted footsteps on the metal stairs to the aircraft.
When the feared news first arrived that he was posted on six months’ duty to Afghanistan, I was distraught. This was departure day and we had talked endlessly by phone.
“Don’t worry Ma, I’ll be fine,” he said.
“I love you son, stay safe.”
“Love you Ma, got to go.”
The phone went dead and a bead of sweat ran down my forehead.

The School Report, by Brian Mackinney

26/5/2023

Editor's Choice

When John was 13 his behaviour was not of the same high standard as his work. When he was 14 they were still waiting for a sense of responsibility to develop. When he was 15 he had an unsettling influence on the rest of the class.
When he was 16 he seemed to be working steadily and they were certain he was capable of obtaining a good exam result. When he was 17 he seemed to lack self control in private study periods. When he was 18 they made him a prefect and appointed him captain of the cricket team.

Roses are Red and Violet is Blue, by G. Lynn Brown

26/5/2023

Violet answered the door.

"For you, Ma'am." The delivery man handed her a bouquet of the reddest roses she ever saw.

She plucked the card from the stems and giggled. What reason for the flowers did Jim come up with this time?

The phone rang.

"Hello...Yes, this is she..." She slipped the card from its envelope.

"There's been an accident and, I'm sorry, but your husband--"

Violet dropped the phone and the flowers and gaped at the card, 'til death do us part written in Jim's hand.

A tear splashed on the card.

Jim always knew just what to say.

30 years, by Gretchen VanOstrand

26/5/2023

Steve had been dead a month, but his clothes still occupied too much rent in their closet. His cancer battle had worn their marriage down to almost nothing but tube feedings and hospice. Clyde cried on their 30th anniversary and then the next week, he hugged their friends and pondered a new life without his soulmate.

Hastily packing up Steve’s suit jackets, he felt something large and bulky in one of the jacket pockets. “On our anniversary.” “Happy anniversary to my husband.” 30 cards from his beloved Steve. Tears flowed.

But how?
When?

“I see you found them.”

Clyde gasped.

Bakhmut, by Cheryl Dahlstrand

26/5/2023

"Mom said I should do this, and I don’t think I should.
She had her reasons for why she was right.
Dad said I should do this other thing, and I don’t think I should.
He had his reasons why he was right.
Then there was a big fight.

What do you think, Grandpa?"

"Actually, when someone has an opinion, it’s fifty-fifty whether it’s right or not.

But people will defend their positions one hundred per cent of the time.

I guess everybody likes to think they’re right - your mom, dad, or you."

"Even if you lose the war, Grandpa?"

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