Blog Archives

Ripe, by Jenny Logan

17/6/2022

It was Harriet’s first time after her husband passed away. Her face burned, but then it always did. Her time of life was perpetually summer.

His fingers moved around her torso. Her toes curled. Should she mention the tattoos her husband had always considered tacky?
She made a decision to start dying her hair. And stop eating ice cream. As much.

He pulled off his gloves.

“All done. I’ll leave you to get dressed.”

Never again. She’d put off her widow’s weeds, start living and when a lover did come her way—for he surely would—she would be ready.

Bippity-Boppity-Nope, by Samantha Michelle

17/6/2022

The fairy started to swirl her wand in the air, a knowing smile on her face as she said, "I know exactly how to solve your problem. And with one wave of my magic wand, I will turn you from a puppet, into a real boy!"

"But I don't want to be a real boy. I want to attend the ball," Cinderella’s face blanched and she took a step backwards.

The fairy laughed, “Oh! Of course, dearie. Of course. Glad I thought of him though. I think I left him in a whale somewhere.”

Punishment, by Paritosh Chandra Dugar

17/6/2022

Last night, I dreamed of Death saying to me, “Be warned! Your friend, John, will be my property on the 7th day from now. Don’t you ever disclose it to him.” I woke up terribly frightened. Just then, John called me to invite to his betrothal ceremony. He talked of his plans to go to a famous island with his wife, a Hollywood celebrity, just after the biggest business deal of his life. His words made me suffer from anorexia, insomnia, and anxiety. On the 7th day, a cardiac arrest killed him. I wondered whether Death punished me or him.

Right What You Can, by Brian Taylor

17/6/2022

Bobby was a simple guy. A decent guy, he thought. But sometimes it bothered him he wasn't doing enough good. The world (and everyone in it) just seemed to have so many problems.

Bobby felt helpless.

He was looking out his kitchen window when he saw his neighbor Ted on his porch. Inspiration struck Bobby and he grinned. He grabbed something from his room and hurried outside before Ted went back in.

"Hey, Ted!" Bobby yelled, just before he shot him.

Of course, Bobby went to prison, but something good happened: Ted never abused his wife or kids ever again.

Solid Rocks, by Jennifer Duncan

17/6/2022

Hiking over remote hills, Tom, a geologist, was on a quest to find his favourite rocks. He loved the adventure and excitement of discovering new mineral deposits. He also marvelled at the durability and strength of rock. Some of the rocks were thousands of years old, coexisting with the dinosaurs.

Often, he picked up a rock to feel its weight, its solidity, in his hand. It felt reassuring.

It was hard to imagine that molecules, even in rocks, are mostly clouds of tiny electrons whizzing around nuclei.

Rocks are so hard and firm, yet they are always in motion.

Obsession, by Caterina Baldi

17/6/2022

The road stretched out like a snake with its head missing.

Tom had checked the tire pressure and brake pads of his van like a colt before the race. Maximum performance. When the corn got tall, he knew he had arrived.

He started the engine. He shifted into reverse. First, second. Brakes. Reverse again. He made precision turns. His van danced the tarantella until the dawn lights erased the last traces of darkness.

He would see his 'alien' work on the net. So would Alice. They both had obsessions. Hers was science fiction. Now she wouldn't turn down a date.

The Handbook, by Tom Baldwin

17/6/2022

John is my oldest friend, and a lovely guy. Girls, jobs, friends, — you name it and everything fell into place for him. I blundered through life, wondering how he did it.

One evening I was browsing his bookcase and found a strange book, entitled: ‘Your Handbook for Life.’ I glanced at the chapters: Surviving School; Meeting Girls; Getting a Job. It was published by Guardian Angel Press, in a celestial gold binding.

John said, ‘Ah, you found my copy. You have one, don’t you?’

‘No, I don’t. How did you get it?’

‘At birth, of course. And you didn’t? Oh.’

The Departure, by Sivan Pillai

17/6/2022

As I moved upwards through the clouds, I searched where I had been sitting a while back. A man lay crushed under the trunk of a fallen tree. A prayer book lay nearby.
I had believed the recurring nightmare was a harbinger of the future. It had shown me as an emaciated body, lying prostrate in the bed. Thin like a stick. Helpless. Hated by all. Praying for death whenever conscious.
Despite obeying scriptures all these years!
Wish for a quick and painless death, the book's cover said.
That's what I was doing after my prayer in the deserted temple.

The Present, by Vimala Alexander

17/6/2022

Editor's Choice

‘Who’s the Prime Minister, Regina?’ asked the doctor.
‘Lee… Lee something,’ my mother answered tentatively.
‘Okay,’ the doctor smiled. ‘What day is it?’
‘Tuesday?’
‘No, it’s Wednesday,’ I told her, disappointed.
‘What’s the date today, Regina?’ the doctor asked, looking at my mother, smiling.
‘I know that one – it’s 21st August, 1960!’ she answered confidently.
I sighed. ‘That’s my birthday, ma!’
‘But that’s the day I got a present – my baby!’ her eyes teared.
I escorted my mother out of the doctor’s clinic. We were closer to confirming my mother’s dementia, but I will always be my mother’s present.

Role Reversal? by Sandra James

17/6/2022

‘He’s been ill for a while. He’s a little better but he’s not getting any younger. Perhaps it’s time to consider putting him down? Another round of tests and medication will be expensive.’

‘True. I do feel a bit guilty though. If I cut back on my treats and don’t buy that spiffy new coat or the plush bed, it would go a long way towards all his costs.’

‘Well, it’s your decision. He’s your human.’

Yes, he was only a human!

Thus, Fifi, had Master put down. She can always get a new, younger one.

A Wicked Spice, by Pauline Chow

17/6/2022

Gretel hated chewing. She preferred to wrestle with hunger; a force that twisted her life. Starting with her father’s abandonment, her empty stomach had lured her to a witch’s gingerbread house with promises of harmless confections. If only the witch offered candy instead of plump morsels that rotted her appetite.
She sucked in cigarette smoke, tasting memories of charred delicacies with hints of thyme; flavors that never dulled. Eating was not her choice.
The stories weren’t true. She had not left the cottage with her brother. There had been more children frolicking in the woods. Hunger was a wicked spice.

Fits the Bill, by Sue Clayton

17/6/2022

‘It’s reincarnation time, Neville. You’ve selected a bird for your next life. Here’s a list to choose from.

An owl…I’d be craftier than in my previous life, Neville muses.

Or a handsome peacock, although I never was one for looks.

I could be a pigeon – not a homing one. Never had a proper home, except for when I lodged at HM’s pleasure.

A red robin’s tempting, but snow-covered feathers in winter don’t appeal.

‘This one fits the bill; harks back to my former profession.’

‘What’s your bird of choice, Neville?’

‘Magpie.’

‘And your former profession was?’

‘Jewel thief…anything that glittered.’

Finding His Calling, by Krystyna Fedosejevs

17/6/2022

Fortune teller? Right! Marvin watched his savings erode with multiple visits, yet he couldn’t resist the lure.

“You’ll need help to overcome insecurities,” his doctor stated, writing a prescription for anxiety medication.

Side effects stacked like the deck of tarot cards used to reel out his future. Recalled at the doctor’s, he was referred to a psychologist.

Marvin was surprised to learn he had conditions he never knew he had. Paranoia, narcissism and a gamut of other ailments. The weight of illness he carried seemed too much to bear.

“I’m back!” he exclaimed with smiling eyes.

The clairvoyant cooed acceptingly.

From the Frying Pan to the Fire, Liz O’Shea

17/6/2022

Finished, I laid down my quill and flexed fingers. Looking at the full moon I imagined the rage my husband would be in when he read my goodbye letter. I did not care, he would not be able to hurt me anymore after tonight. I quickly packed a small bag and wrapping myself in a warm cloak I crept out of the house. There in the distance I saw him waiting for me, my lover who had promised me a new and happier life. Arms outstretched I ran towards him murmuring his name ‘My Darling Count Dracula’.

Cernunnos, by L.E. Wraith

17/6/2022

A spear jutted from the stag’s carcass. Beside it lay Kailen with blood seeping down his wool tunic. He clutched his knife, ready to skin his kill.
It made no sense. Antlers had punctured him.
A branch snapped. My head jerked.
From between ancient oaks, ferns, and mist, I spotted a man in gray robes.
But it was more than a man. Antlers sprouted from his skull.
My heart galloped. “Cernunnos.” I slid on slick leaves and fell.
“My land,” Cernunnos boomed. His shadow grew over me, horns stretching far and wide.
“I-I’m sorry,” I stammered.
His mouth twisted. “Mine.”

Secrets of Flight, by Sherry G. White

17/6/2022

“Do you wanna know a secret?” he asked. She looked at him expectantly but didn’t answer. “I can fly,” he whispered. This time she looked at him skeptically. “It’s true!” he insisted. “Can you show me?” she asked. “Come with me!” he requested. She took his hand and followed him to the rooftop. “Can you show me first then come back for me?” she asked. “Don’t you trust me?” he countered. He wrapped his arms around her and leapt! They went briefly up and out and then they flew and flew and flew all the way to the sidewalk below.

Birds of a Feather, by Wook Jeon

17/6/2022

The young man was eager to meet his ideal woman, who loved what she did, without worrying about others’ eyes. But no woman showed interest in him. Disappointed, the man decided to focus on his work and began to enjoy it. He attended a work-related conference, and a young woman approached with a sweet smile. She was the one he had been looking for! Later, she confessed that she felt attracted when she saw him love his work without worrying about others’ opinions. Birds of a feather do flock together!

5 Words, by David Berger

17/6/2022

She said, “But we always agree about everything.”
I said, “And we never argue about anything.

THEN

She said, “bat, bet, bit, bot(1), but.”
I said, “cat, cet(2), cit(4), cot, cut.”
She said, “dan, den, din, don, dun.”
I said, “gat, get, git, got, gut.”
She said, “lat, let, lit, lot, lut(4).”
I said, “pack, peck, pick, pock, puck.”
She said, “pat, pet, pit, pot, put.”

AND

She said, “You always need to get the last word.”
I said, “Let’s call the whole thing off.”

Time Off, by Allison Symes

17/6/2022

Marion meandered down the High Street, for once taking her time peering into her favourite shop windows, stopping every so often to study the fashions in more depth. She relished the thought of what to buy if she had the money.

The time off was welcome and rare. Her husband was demanding, argumentative, and would have no other carer despite his obvious dementia.

Sometimes she swore she would snap.

But not today. Not ever.

By the time she returned the medication in his tea would’ve worked. Nobody could blame an over-tired, stressed carer for getting the dose wrong, would they?

Siren's Song, by Robert P. Bishop

17/6/2022

The bicycle is chained to an eyebolt in the garage’s wall. It remains unridden since his heart betrayed him when on its own, without asking for permission, it turned on him in the night.

The bicycle pleads with him when he walks by, implores him to pump up its tires, lube its chain, adjust its cables, wheel it into the sun, get on, clip in, and ride.

Like a Siren with sensuous lips and inviting hips, the bicycle whispers to him, “Your heart will stop again someday and you will die a final time. Until that day arrives, let’s live.”

Leaves of Gold, by C.S. Vance

17/6/2022

Felix studied the autumn glow across the craggy peaks. An aspen stand graced the crest ahead, leaves fluttering like confetti doubloons in the breeze. He adjusted his pack and recited the final clue:

Under the gilded peaks,
Beneath the harvest sun,
Stand tall to gain the gold you seek,
Hold the blaze in your palm.

The sun shifted, lighting the aspens like candle flames—a stand ablaze.

Felix squinted at the trees. He walked closer and plucked a leaf from a nearby branch, raising it to the sun. The leaf fluttered in his palm, then grew heavy as solid gold.

What’s in a Name, by Fliss Zakaszewska

17/6/2022

“You can’t call her Dora! Aunty Dora would hate it.”

I looked at Mum and sighed. “OK, Carol…”

“No! Your cousin Carol would be offended.”

“Belinda…?”

“No, she’s my best friend.”

Fifty family and friends’ names later, mother still wasn't happy.

“OK, I’ll change the character’s name to Woman-who-can’t-be-named, OK, Mum?”

“Don’t be silly, dear.”

Note to all authors: If you write a book about a racy character, do NOT let your Mum read it first. So, which of my family shall I choose to offend?

Basketball and Love, by Hannah Retallick

17/6/2022

My first love, I’d say. I knew it the moment I walked onto a court, clutching the basketball to my chest. I winced as another kid’s ball nearly hit me. That riled me it did.

Determined to become LeBron, I practised shooting until they noticed my dominance and tried, unsuccessfully, to steal it. Their mouths hung open. I simply smiled.

A dark girl with long curly hair caught my eye and smiled back, like she was on my team. I lost control of the ball, but it was worth it. My second love, I’d say. And she’d soon know it.

Invertebrate, by Jim Woessner

17/6/2022

The rain fell for three days and nights. The drought had finally broken. That was the good news. The bad was that I had been trapped inside, alone with little more than meaningless thoughts. The mental laundry was going round and round, and not getting any cleaner. On the last day, although at the time I didn’t know it would be the last, a seagull landed on the skylight and tried to crack open a mussel with its incessant pounding. I poured another drink and saw myself inside my own shell, knowing that if it opened I would be devoured.

Target Practice, by Shoshauna Shy

17/6/2022

Mandy leapt off the sidewalk as the Audi slammed into the barrel of begonias. She saw the driver bleeding and unconscious through the cracked windshield.

“You knew him?” her sister asked later. “He someone out to get you?”

“Worse,” Mandy whispered, as if afraid of being overheard. “Last week a tree limb collapsed right on my heels. Friday, ceiling tiles fell beside me, denting my file cabinet.”

“You’re kidding!”

“That’s all since I stopped believing in God. I quit going to church.”

Her sister shuddered. “Looks like you owe an apology.”

Mandy stared up at the clouds. “Think that’ll help?”

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