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Welcome Home, Versions 1 & 2, by Gordon Lawrie

12/6/2016

The cat that appears on much of our website is based on founder Emma Baird's own cat Freddie. In June 2016, Emma introduced a new cat called Rocky, with mixed success...

WELCOME HOME, VERSION 1

He knew as soon as she’d opened the front door.

Friends had warned him that she couldn’t be trusted, that her eyes would wander while his back was turned. She’d sworn that her love for him would be everlasting, but now he understood that she couldn’t help herself. They were playing out the roles of Butterfly and the faithless Pinkerton in reverse.

He turned away, unable to bring himself to look.

“Hi there! I’m home. Look what I’ve got for you – a new friend!”

He tried to look welcoming. It wasn’t the new cat’s fault that Alice was so promiscuous.

WELCOME HOME, VERSION 2

Two threatening amber eyes studied the new arrivals.

“Hi there! I’m home. Look what I’ve got for you – a new friend!”

Alice’s cat shrugged his whiskers. Another patsy, he thought, the latest bum-of-the-month feline to make the mistake of hitting his territory. He arched his back and hissed a note of warning at the newcomer.

Alice could sense this introduction wasn’t going well. “Tell you what,” she said, “ I’ll give you half the house each.” The newbie miaowed back at her, but Alice’s REAL cat stood unimpressed.

OK, he thought, you can have the outside, I’ll have the inside.

The Perfect Moment, by Russell Conover

12/6/2016

I'm Blake, and I enjoy a good meal out now and then. Today I'm sitting in my favorite restaurant, eating and minding my own business, when I notice a woman staring at me. I ignore her, but when I return my gaze several times, she's still gazing. Sighing, I stand up.

“Excuse me, ma'am. May I help you?”

She blinks. “Oh, I'm sorry. I was just waiting for the perfect moment to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“You've won the million-dollar lottery, and your check's in the mail. Wanted to tell you A.S.A.P., before you arrive home!”

Tranquility, by Amy Friedman

10/6/2016

Kathleen turned her gaze from the fire to the window. The feral cats were doing well – they had come out from under the porch. The kittens bounced around in the sunshine while Mama Cat padded along the window sill, miaowing to be let in. “Not so feral anymore, are you Mama?” said Kathleen as she opened the window. Just a few inches. She loved watching Mama Cat shimmy through the gap, trying vainly to balance on her paws before slipping to the floor with a thud. Kathleen knew she was being mean, but an old woman needed her small pleasures.

One IS Fun, by Emma Baird

10/6/2016

“If one is fun, two must be amazing!” Alice trilled to The Cat.

The Cat regarded her balefully. Typical human. Imposing its wants on another species. Anthromo… Anthromorphos…

What was that darn word, anyway?

The new companion arrived. Alice opened the carrier and he emerged, blinking.

The Cat sighed. Humans needed company. He didn't. Who wanted more competition for food, water and places to sleep?

The little one sidled up. “Hey I know you are worried, but I promise it's all going to be fine!”

Oh this was worse! If there was anything The Cat hated, it was a sook.

The Pet Shop, by Mark Fuidge

10/6/2016

I'd walked past the pet shop many times before, sometimes I would stop and stare through the glass, wondering if they would ever be freed. It was a hot day and they looked rather agitated so I summoned up the courage to go in and ask the man behind the counter how much they were. He looked bemused, standing in silence for a while before eventually saying

"We don't sell wasps in here"

I gestured behind me and said

"Well you've got some in the window"

Life-Changing, by Gordon Lawrie

10/6/2016

Bright light everywhere. Hard to see. Confused, he slowly became aware that he was lying in a bed somewhere, not alone. Two people seated by his bed. He couldn’t make out if they – his parents? – were crying or smiling. Another figure appeared, uniformed, leaned close to him.

“David? Can you hear me?” A nurse, he thought.

“Yes.” A struggle, though. “Where am I?”

“In hospital. What do you remember?”

Vaguely, a car while crossing the road. Nothing more.

“I can’t move.”

No one seemed surprised. The smiles became more tearful.

Doctor's Orders, by Eric Smith

10/6/2016

The sheriff was in dismal shape. She clutched an unfiltered cigarette between her nicotine-stained knuckles, coughing relentlessly, phlegm rattling. She contracted pneumonia every winter—the kind that guaranteed a hospital stay. She tried switching to snuff but continued smoking—two bad habits now instead of one, unless you counted coffee. She kept three mugs on her desk, one each for coffee, cigarette butts, and spit. She began worrying about both lung and mouth cancer. She always skipped breakfast, chain-drinking coffee with creamer until her daily lunch of steak and eggs. She skipped dinner—except for diet coke and beef jerky.

At the Whitchurch First World War Memorial, by Ian Fletcher

9/6/2016

Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Whitchurch,_Cardiff

On this glorious summer day teenagers lounge on benches in the library gardens, chatting, smoking, texting, oblivious of the cenotaph where I read row after row of names….Collier, Fowler, three Huttons….imagining the grief in this village a century ago.

I doubt that these kids even know the dates of this terrible war which decimated Whitchurch’s youth, and doubt that their freedom is worth the ultimate sacrifice of these forgotten souls.

“Ignorance is bliss,” I mutter scornfully, then think let it be, not wishing to spread the darkness burdening my heart, recalling the poet’s words, ‘humankind cannot bear very much reality.’

Ending With A Whimper, by Ian Fletcher

6/6/2016

2:58 a.m.

Drowsy. Strange napping now, though.

They say it’ll hit around 3:00.

Nice coffee this, my last.

No one around.

Funny how everyone’s cowering indoors. As if we’d survive skyscraper tsunamis, off-the-scale earthquakes, thousand-year dust clouds!

Sister phoned to say goodbye, not to invite me over. Understandable, to be alone with the kids. I couldn’t bear that heartbreak.

Some still clutch at straws. Fat chance we’ll nuke a five-mile asteroid off course.

My Google homepage pic is of people holding hands.

Silence.

Is this how the world ends?

Like the poet says, not with a bang but a whi______

Games Of Drone, by Natalia Kay

5/6/2016

This year I got a drone for my husband's birthday.

Boys of all ages gather to inspect the gift. Wise ladies sip mojitos, giggling "Give them a toy with engine and they'll piss themselves."

My best friend grabs my hand, pulling me near.

"You gonna spy on him with flying camera machine? You think he's... cheating?"

"Heavens! No! I'm gonna hack that thing to broadcast. Live videos, you know. For the familly? Vacation in the Alps, remember? In a month?"

She loves it. She feels safe now.

She will weep over "caught-on-camera" ski accident.

Youtube, few million views and vengeance.

Numbers, by Russell Conover

4/6/2016

“Sheesh--how do you keep all these numbers straight?”
“Not too hard. I just keep a running list.”
“But your office receives so many presidential votes! How do you do it?”
“It's all about finding something that works.”
“So, who's our winner?”
“Well, the polls won't close for some time, but I could guess.”
“Lay it on me!”
“It's not going to make you happy, and a lot of other people.”
“Just tell me. This is important stuff, y'know.”
“Let's just say a move to Pluto might be our best option.”

Regionalisms, by Amy Friedman

4/6/2016

Uchhh – this is so good!
Why do you say “uch” if something’s good? Isn’t uch usually when something is horrid? Like ugggghhh?
No! It’s like “ohhh…”
So why don’t you say ohhh?
Uchhh is Brooklyn. Works better for me.
Oh – you mean like dope is good, sick is hip, bad is cool …?
Nah. Just uch. Can’t you just hear Barbra Streisand saying “Uch, I’m so ferklemt”?
Now that you say it …
See? Easy-peasy.
Easy-peasy?
Yeah. Britspeak.
Definitely not Brooklyn.
I’d probably be run out of Brooklyn for saying easy-peasy.
Well, as least you haven’t started pronouncing forty “farty.”

(Amy's note of explanation: "The St. Louis accent is funny - people actually do say 'farty'!" But then I think Amy herself might originally hail from Nooyoik.)

Unknown Raw Genre, by Natalia Kay

3/6/2016

I go for the first link recommended, new sushi place, and book a table for lunch. The link goes as anonymous text message to my sister and my husband. I add a wink, a heart and simple "Care for something raw?".

They love surprises and secrets. They ARE a surprise and a secret. They will be there.

Driving to the restaurant, I imagine my entrance as a beginning of a movie. The shot would start at my feet, slowly moving upwards and finishing on my face.
Would it be drama, horror or crime?

I Thought, by Neil Cirilo

3/6/2016

"I'm tired," the first thing he said to me."It's been years and I think of you. I'm afraid you can't handle this. I'm afraid you're not ready. But I am." He sighed deeply. I'm starting to fathom what he's going to say it got my heart beating so fast. I can feel my tears slowly streaming down on my cheeks. I know I can't.

"But w-why?"

"I'm tired of being just your boyfriend." He said and he gave me a nervous smile. He kneels infront of me and opened a little box with a diamond ring in it.

Evidence, by Ann-Louise Truschel

3/6/2016

The old lady was battered beyond recognition.

“Whoever did this’ll have blood all over them. I’ll notify next-of-kin.”

The detective reached the daughter’s house just as she was leaving, gym bag in hand. He broke the news and drove her, sobbing, to the hospital to make identification.

Afterward he took her home.

“You forgot your gym bag.”

“I guess I left it at the hospital.”

A hospital nurse finds a gym bag with no identification and opens it to discover bloody jeans, teeshirt, and shoes.

“Probably clothes from a trauma victim,” she thinks as she consigns them to the incinerator.

All In The Family, by Ann-Louise Truschel

3/6/2016

“Our fee is $100,000, Mr. Miller.”

“I’ll pay it.”

“And how will you pay it, Mr. Miller?”

“My wife’s $500,000 double indemnity policy pays $1,000,000 in case of accidental death.”

“But that money becomes available only after we “remove” your wife. We expect payment up front. Otherwise there’s a 15% premium, which must be paid before we take the job.”

“That’s $15,000! I’ll try to get it,” and he walks away.

“Do you think he’ll be back?”

“No matter.”

“Why not???”

His wife has a double indemnity policy on him, and she’s willing to pay the full $100,000 up front.

Getting Older in Four Words, by Emma Baird

3/6/2016

“Sixty is the new… 50.” Or was it 40 at the moment?

At L’Arreal Cosmetics HQ, the marketing team battled with slogans for the new face cream. At £100 a jar, they had a lot of work to do to women it was worth buying.

Luckily, they’d booked an actor who was ageing well. She would need only the tiniest touch of photo-shopping.

“Age – just a number.”

“Older, bolder, better, beautiful.”

“Confidence in a jar.”

Brought in to bring consumer focus to the discussion, Jean stuck up her hand.

“I’ve got two. “F*** you face cream? Looking young doesn't matter.”

In A Foreign Land, by Gordon Lawrie

3/6/2016

She gazed out of the window, then turned around to survey the usual stuff on a languages room’s walls. Teaching French was much the same worldwide, she mused: wallcharts, posters, children’s work with words like “Bonjour!” and “Merci!” in various colours randomly displayed.

Sighing, she turned the vacuum cleaner back on. A casual outsider might have wondered how it had come to this, but for Anna the choice was clear: remain in Poland as a languages teacher, or earn three times as much for her family as a school cleaner in Britain. No-brainer, really. But how she missed the children.

From There To Here, From Here To There, by Amy Friedman

2/6/2016

“It was Waldo!”
“Impossible.”
“Look – here’s his hat!”
“A red and white striped hat? He’s not the only one.”
“Yes, but he’s the only human one.”
“What makes you think a human took the mouse?”
“What makes you think it wasn’t?”
“Look: there’s little white cat paw prints. Obviously, a cat stepped into a bowl of milk, found your mouse, and made off with him.”
“But why would a hat point to a cat?”
“Couldn’t a cat like a nap in a hat?”
“A cat in a hat?”
“Funny things are everywhere.”
Dr. Seuss settled in for his nap, smiling.

The Stranger In The Black Fedora, by Martin McConnell

2/6/2016

He sat in the coffee shop, contemplating the curious appearances of the man in the black fedora. The man claimed to be an author. Every time he appeared, things went horribly wrong. Just then, the author appeared through the door, approached, and sat across from him.

“What are you going to do about the amulet?”, asked the man.

“I don't know yet. How did you know about the amulet?”

“You need more motivation.”

The doors exploded, throwing glass shrapnel, and through the chaos, the cloaked figure appeared. Somehow, in the confusion, the author in the fedora disappeared. Again.

Empty Spaces, by Ian Fletcher

2/6/2016

Mom and Dad would sit on the sofa facing the mantel. As teenagers my brother would lounge in the armchair in front of the French windows, while I occupied the one opposite, beside the door.

We traveled home for Dad’s funeral, pitying Mom forlorn on the sofa. Then she died at ninety-two. Now we have returned again, the sofa a void that fills the room.

We agree my brother, divorced, will move back into the house. Although I’m older, he has health issues. Our eyes meet, compassionately, for soon one of us will have to bear the three empty spaces.

From Thailand With Love, by Natalia Kay

2/6/2016

Customs officer glances at the scale and waves me to open my suitcase.

"Anything to declare, miss?"

"I loved it in Thailand. I feel all new," I tell him as he goes through the pile of dresses still bearing pricetags.

He doesn't reply. Another quick glance, at my boobs this time, and I am free.

On my way out I pause in front of bathroom doors.

I loved it in Thailand, even all I saw was the squeaky clean clinic and a shopping mall. The officer called me "miss".

I smile and push the door with "ladies" sign on it.

The Double-R-Bar, by Eric Smith

2/6/2016

“Uncle Bud?”
“Yup.”
“Some kids at school. . . they said you never rode the rodeo.”
“They’d be right, son. I never did. Good thing, too. Most of them old boys are all crippled up at my age.”
“But they also said you was only a fence rider at the Double-R-Bar ranch.”
“That’s true enough, I reckon.”
“How come?”
“That’s just the way it was, son. I did what I could to make a living in them days.”
“So you wasn’t a real cowboy?”
“We was all cowboys, son. We just had different jobs, I guess.”
The boy’s face fell.

A Question Of Employment, by Jo Oldani-Osborne

2/6/2016

Any facts resembling real people are coincidental.

How did you know that Phyllis left her resume’ in the printer, Russell?

“Would you believe I happened to be retrieving my own? Did you know she has a Masters in Philosophy?”

“Is that why she answers every question with a question, Russ?”

“C’mon, isn’t that a cliché’?”

“Do we all have degrees in Philosophy?”

“Would you believe a Phd.?”

“So were YOU ‘encouraged’ to explore other employment opportunities while still employed for a tenuous amount of time at half salary and no perks, as well?”

Don’t you think Operations could do better if we weren’t the Department of Inquisitions?

Bus From The Suburbs, by Ian Fletcher

1/6/2016

How I would scorn the oldies on the bus downtown when I was a student on vacation, their ridiculous pride on ‘looking their best’, their trivial chatter about the weather, the shops, where they’d have lunch.

I know better now they’re long departed. They were just lonely, their kids grown up, widows, widowers, living out their lives. Perhaps they hadn’t seen a soul in days!

I stumble onto the bus, show my senior citizen pass and sit down. “Looks like we’ll have a spot of rain later,” I say to old Mrs. Parker, both of us glad of the company.

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