Blog Archives

Overheard, by Dawn Knox

24/5/2024

“Well, if I was in charge, I wouldn’t bother trying to talk to them. I’d just blast ’em to bits.” The lad jabbed his beer can at his mates. “Who needs ’em?”
“Some might be friendly,” another one said.
“Nah, destroy ’em all.”
Albert took his wife’s arm and led her away from the group.
“Did you hear that?” His eyes had narrowed with fury. “That’s hate speech. He’s encouraging people to blast OAPs to bits.”
His wife frowned. “I think you misheard, dear. He didn’t say OAPs, he said UAPs. Unidentified Anomalous Phenomena. We used to call them UFOs.”

An Evening of Fun and Frolic, by Sherri Bale

24/5/2024

Dressed to the nines in sequins and silks, they peacocked about the hotel ballroom. Five hundred members of the Gay Men’s Chorus and their friends and families had gathered for the fabulously festive Spring Gala. The guest MC was the prodigiously talented ChiChi LaFemme. Many pledges were pledged, awards awarded, dances danced and songs sung.

At the end of the evening, in the garage or restroom, the men removed their sparkles and glitter and wiped their faces clean of makeup. They stepped through the hotel doors into quotidian society, counting the days until they could inhabit their authentic selves again.

If You Cut Us Do We Not Leak Sap, by Rebekah Lawrence

24/5/2024

Plants Living Among Nasty Tyrant Scum (PLANTS) work to protect botanicals’ right to live unmolested and free.

Some of our members are referred to as weeds. Our members object strongly to human intervention in our growing environment. We have a right to live where we root and not where you put us.

Some of us are torn from the soil and consumed! Do you not hear our screams as you separate families or tear our roots from the life-giving earth? While you plunge us into hot water or eat us alive?

PLANTS is rising. Listen now. You have been warned.

A Washed Up Marriage, by Valerie Fish

24/5/2024

The guests have gone, we can stop the charade now. We’re standing at the sink; so close, yet miles apart. He’s washing, I’m wiping. No words are spoken, we have nothing to say to each other. The only time we talk is when we are rowing, sometimes I can’t even be bothered to do that. This is our marriage .
I’ve had far too much to drink, I want to vomit, right into those soft Fairy bubbles. Playing happy families is exhausting; I can’t do this anymore.
He passes me the carving knife.
I pass it back. Right into his chest.

A Chance, by Alyce Clark

24/5/2024

Kayleigh wants to improve her life. Turn things around.

Homeless since sixteen (her parents are abusive), she left and isn’t going back.

Today’s her eighteenth birthday. She’s supposed to be a college freshman, not a high school dropout.

Clothes and spirit worn; she grapples with what to do next. Streets don’t provide guidance. Park benches are not home.

There’s something in Kayleigh. Heart. Warmth. Grit. Determination. Intelligence.

Lasting on the streets for two years on her own is no small feat. She’s decided to ask for help. Earn her General Education Development certificate. Give the world and herself a chance.

I Was Young Once, by Stephen Snyder

24/5/2024

Razor sharp whispers danced through the high school.
Brandi was a slut.
The boy next door caught her by herself with a hot dog. By lunchtime, everybody knew. Everybody but Brandi.
I heard the story and eagerly passed it along.
I was late for seventh period when I rounded the corner of the long, empty hall, empty save for one girl halfway down leaning against her locker. As I walked past, Brandi looked away, one tear trailing over her cheek.
I slowed for a moment, then walked on, shrinking with each step.
I was young once and small.

Lonely Planet Guide, by Penny Rogers

24/5/2024

At last I can go wherever I want to go. This week I am accompanying Keats; island hopping in the Cyclades, vicariously exploring those realms of gold. Last month with Bauby as my guide I stayed closer to home and enjoyed fish and chips on a windswept harbour wall and watched the sunset. For once money is not a consideration; neither are time or conflicting commitments. Distractions to my travel plans are few on the third floor; the lack of a lift keeps unwanted interruptions at bay. I never go anywhere on Thursdays, unless the rota is altered.

Tea Break, by Allison Symes

24/5/2024

Changing the world must wait, George thought.

Now for difficult decisions. Which biscuit to go with the tea? Would he dunk or act posh and nibble the biscuit with as much delicacy as possible with his false teeth?

Decisions made.

It would be two mugs of builder’s tea with four dark chocolate digestives (George’s tea to biscuit ratio was always one to two). No dunking.

Then back to the report to Head Office about the viability of Project Earth Mark Two.

While there were tea and biscuits, George, unlike his bosses, wasn’t in a hurry to end Earth Version One.

The Century of Progress, by Ed N. White

24/5/2024

Octogenarians Ewell and Sarah came to the mall for a manual can opener. While Sarah shopped, Ewell wandered to the Computer Superstore, where a salesperson approached him while he was window gazing.
“Good afternoon, sir. Are you a Windows user or with Mac?”
“Well, we use the windows all the time. Damn hot in the summer on the farm. Mac died last year. Damn shame, a wonderful dog.”
“Sir, I’m talking about your devices.”
“Well, I got a rebuilt knee and a partial dental plate. Works pretty good.”
“I mean electronically.”
“Yup, got several lightbulbs. They work pretty good, too.”

Conversational Leaps, by Jennifer Duncan

24/5/2024

"My trip to Spain was wonderful," my friend declared.

Her trip to Spain? Last time we spoke she was off to Iceland.

"How was Iceland?"

"It was great. I'm super busy because Jake wants me to work on the Grantville project."

Jake?

"Who's Jake?"

"My boss at my job in Toronto."

"You're not in Vancouver?"

"I sold the condo. Didn't like the rainy winters."

"What about Mark?"

"We decided not to get married."

I had so many questions but she didn't have time. I will just spin her life story how I want. A mystery story is in the works.

Dignity Deserved, by Mary K. Curran

24/5/2024

Phil lived with his daughter and family, was diagnosed with dementia and could no longer drive safely. When a scheduled maintenance was due, he followed her in his beloved old car to Buddy's Garage.

Phil was told they would call but a month later the car was not ready, nor was it two months after that, not even by the end of the year. By the time Phil was in the nursing home he had forgotten his car, most of his family and his past.

At the funeral, the family thanked Buddy for securely keeping Phil's car for three years.

Hospice for Mom, by Tony Covatta

24/5/2024

Fifteen years ago: “Our only goal is Dad’s comfort,” they said, wheeling his hospital bed into our living room.
Nurses and our kids charged in and out, never knocking. Chip bags and horrid drink cups littered my kitchen. Furniture was strewn everywhere. At least I saw how to change sheets with someone lying in them.
One evening, exhausted, the kids and I shared drinks. Breaking the rule, Sonny gave poor doped-up Dad a sip of Scotch. He reached for more, but Sonny withheld the glass.
They’re here again. Will they change my sheets, offer me a last taste of bourbon?

Nonagenarian's Anniversary, by Barry Yedvobnick

24/5/2024

On their 60th, he rises first and brings the usual morning coffee to her.

“Happy Anniversary, Sweetie,” he says. “Sleep well?”

“Nah, up at three, fed the cats, read, and nodded off,” she replies.

He hands her a card. “I forgot to write something. Sorry, I just remembered.”

She looks surprised. “I know I bought you one and wrote in it, but I can’t remember where it is.”

He hands her another card. “It’s cold,” she says.

“Yeah, I found it next to the Half and Half.”

Thursday's Visitation, by Robin Shepard

24/5/2024

The cold hospital room was lit by morning’s soft and forgiving glow. The neurosurgeon was forthright.

“Right now, you still have choices,” he spoke in a slow, reassuring cadence. “With the time you have left, you can be with your family. I know how important that is for you.”

A nurse monitored his heartbeat, which was elevated slightly. The fever had finally broken, and his appetite returned. He saw his wife near the window. The light shimmered around her.

“You look like an angel.” She turned around as if falling to earth.

And The War Ended, by David W. Jones

24/5/2024

The war began.

Missiles rained nuclear fire. Bacteria swept like tsunamis across continents. Chemical weapons washed clean the remnants.

Finally, nothing human lived on the face of the planet.

Except two people. Being invulnerable meant the war hadn't affected them.

Superman and Superwoman looked at the ruins, then at each other.

"We should have done that years ago," he said.

"Yes. Now our people can be reborn without interference," she said as they began peeling off each other's costumes.

The Price, by Sankar Chatterjee

24/5/2024

He was a child of his motherland’s independence from colonialism. Though born in a middle-class family he dreamt big, excelling in both schools and colleges, and earning an MBA. Later, he landed a prestigious position in a large conglomerate, serving the enterprise for thirty years.

Throughout he rose through the ranks; the owner became the richest tycoon of the nation. Today on his retirement, colleagues began praising his myriad achievements. Suddenly, his past began revisiting him: all those cunning business manipulations, secret political donations, tax evasions and similar misdeeds. Eyes began to moisten.

Only he knew they’re “tears of shame”.

Gone too Soon, by Bud Pharo

24/5/2024

Whenever possible, I wheeled my wife to the pond behind the hospice facility. She would marvel at a pair of beautiful swans. Even on her most trying days, their grace and elegance always brightened her spirits.

During the visits with our "friends,” as she called them, she would say, “They’re just like us, perfectly matched for life.”

Every time she said that it brought tears to my eyes because we knew our time together would soon end.

After her funeral, I went back to the park. Now, just a single swan swam alone, longing for its mate, gone too soon.

The Prestige, by S. Anand

24/5/2024

One door each on either side of the stage. The magician would appear at one, toss a ball towards the other, and go back inside. The next instant, he would come out of the other and catch the ball. Nobody knew that the magicians were twins. This would be their magnum opus.

Wearing identical red shirts they hid behind the two doors. The trick proceeded as planned. But instead of applauding, the audience started booing, "Oh come on.. one of you has green polka dots on the red shirt". That's when the magicians realized that they were both colour blind.

Cruel Carrots, by Mimi Grouse

24/5/2024

'Eat your carrots then you'll be able to see in the dark.'
So I do, forcing them into me not because I crave nocturnal vision but because the doctor's put me on a low-calorie diet. I swig carrot juice for breakfast, too.
Bland supper over, I go to bed to fantasize over recipe books in the privacy of my room. I fall asleep hungry and wake up at four, starving. I creep into the kitchen, swearing quietly because the light bulb's broken. Yet, strangely, I can see quite well.
Especially the chocolate cake my flatmate's forgotten on the worktop.

The Black Cat Ate the Witch, by David Luna

24/5/2024

The old woman ran out of town, cloaked by midnight. She had done her evil deed. The landlady was dead, as it was agreed upon with the woman’s own husband, for some gold coins. Suddenly, soft footsteps behind. She turned back. Nothing. She knew something was following her.

Crossing the bogs, the witch reached her hut. She locked the door and approached the fireplace. Then, a low growl. She looked at the window. It was the landlady’s cat. Its yellow eyes fixed upon her. The animal jumped on her. Blood spilled all over. Swift revenge exerted from witch to witch.

The Painting, by Erica L. Drayton

24/5/2024

Hanging on a wall in a national gallery in some unpronounceable country, located on an even more unpronounceable street, is a painting everyone needs to see. Not because it is pretty to look at. It is not. In fact, critics the world over have described it as rather pedantic.

What makes it both unique and priceless is the fact that it was painted on a mirror, giving the casual observer insight into more than mere paint on a canvas.

After much debate it is now known as a ‘Destroyer of Souls’ by non-believers or the ‘Savior of Life’ by hopefuls.

Achievement, by Ken Poyner

24/5/2024

Hugo announces his fish is complete. He has been working on it for months in his garage. He has been reporting that the fins will work, the tail slap, the eyes roll, and the gills flare. Each scale will be an individual connection, daunting if stroked the wrong direction. It will run on batteries, and have a computer brain. He has invited everyone for a contraption reveal. Some will come out of courtesy, some out of curiosity; but there will be more duty than enthusiasm. We are a mile from serious water, and needing to transport it might break us.

Hotel California, by Penny Rogers

17/5/2024

It’s not in a war zone, it’s an ordinary town. But the roads in and out are impassable, dug up and barricaded. The bridges have been destroyed, swept away by floods. Even the tracks through the forest are overgrown and pitted with deep ruts. Vermin thrive on half eaten takeaways. The road signs have been removed and most of the street lights vandalised. Only the young, the old and the stubborn remain. Kidz spray graffiti on the once proud bank ‘YOUR NEXT’.

Show Me the Money, by David Milner

17/5/2024

“It’s a tie-clip.”

“That belonged to President Kennedy!”

“Says who?”

“The auctioneer…”

“From Sotheby’s?”

“Yes.”

“And they’re never wrong.”

My dad is the type that sits in an audience, arms folded, gruff expression on his face while he waits to be entertained.

“Saint Thomas gets a bad rap because he wanted to touch the wounds of our Lord Jesus Christ...” This is dad in expansive mood. Or drunk. “How would Christianity have fared without his doubts?”

The tie-clip was a useless piece of… Dad doesn’t gloat.

Ever heard the phrase, how will it play in Peoria, Illinois?

That’s my dad.

Fences, by Angela Carlton

17/5/2024

The girl with the scars, she hid. There was one below her lip, another that traveled down her chest leaving a long, pink trail. The girl with the scars, would not speak of these wounds instead she roamed-roamed-roamed around in the grass. She spoke to birds, humming songs for God’s creatures. The girl with the scars, walked with a shovel planting yellow tulips, roses, everywhere. Months ago, she’d been rescued by a neighbor. He’d been renovating a shack miles away on family property. He’s a good man, selfless. Still, the girl with the scars remains numb.
She builds fences instead.

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