Blog Archives

Erasing the Unnecessary, by Sandra James

23/6/2023

‘Do you have anything to say in your defence?’

‘Your Honour, I told him I didn’t have an FFF ready to send. He laughed and said surely it’s not that important, that I don’t need to send one every week.’

‘Ooh! Well, he got what he deserved. Case dismissed… and could you see me in chambers afterwards? I’m struggling to cut mine down from 110 words. Perhaps you can help. You’re obviously very good at expunging superfluous things.’

‘My pleasure, Your Honour.’

Her Best Bud, by G. Lynn Brown

23/6/2023

Editor's Choice

She thought this time was different, because she thought Jeff was different. But she was wrong, and, worse, she was alone.

She grabbed a beer from the fridge and walked out onto the patio, unable to bear the blaring silence of the empty house.

After a moment outside, beads of water appeared on the brown bottle and, one by one, they streaked down its face. She wiped the damp label with her thumb, then dried her soaked cheeks.

"Well, what do you know." She smiled at the sympathetic bottle, the one friend that seemed to understand her. "Beer cries, too."

Home, by Alyce Clark

23/6/2023

It’s beautiful out today. The warmth of the sun touches down on her skin. A gentle breeze kisses her cheek. Her left hand lowers purple flowers while her right moves soil around them. Her own flower garden. Complete with a small bench to gaze upon its beauty. A far cry from the park bench she once slept on… Homeless and alone. Trapped in a world devoid of beauty- filled with hunger and uncertainty. But now, fear and tension give way to hope. Her appearance and outlook brand new. Joy knocks and gratitude answers. Finally, at long last, she is home.

Flying Lessons, by Steven Stillbeck

23/6/2023

No longer boy, I once found myself attempting conversation with my grandfather; I remarked on a pigeon’s graceless flight. I imagined that he would agree with me - as he had when I was a child.

‘Do you think so? I think they are quite skilful flyers… and fast.’

It was a shock to me that my grandfather did not care for my opinion, returning instead to his pruning.

‘Not enough to evade a peregrine,’ my childish response.

He looked at me, knowing my meaning and carried on pruning, leaving me with a lifetime to work out that he was right.

Being Apart, by Teri Wright

23/6/2023

Graham put the tickets into his wallet. “It’s only for two nights, they’ll be fine.”
“I think they’re too young to be left,” Janice asserted.

“We could ring for updates. Make sure they’ve eaten and gone to bed at a decent time. The neighbour will be popping round regularly.”
“It’s not the same. I like keeping an eye on them. I’ll miss our chats. Maybe I should stay home.”

Graham tutted. “For goodness sake, they’re guinea pigs! Anyone would think you love them more than you love me.”

Janice fiddled with her wedding ring as the silence overwhelmed them.

True Love, by Don Tassone

23/6/2023

As a girl, Jennifer loved to paint, though she had few fans. Some kids even laughed at her paintings.

That hurt, but she stuck with it, majoring in art in college. By then, many reactions to her work were even less kind.

“You’ll starve,” said one classmate.

Sometimes Jennifer felt like walking away from painting, but it always called her back.

After graduation, she tried to sell her paintings. Few buyers. She applied to exhibitions. No takers.

Still, Jennifer kept painting. She painted her whole life, not for money, recognition or even mastery, but simply because she loved to paint.

We'll See, by Cheryl Snell

23/6/2023

"We’ll see," says Mama, when her son announces he’s old enough to drive. By eighteen he is resigned to bumming rides, Mama’s vintage Triumph rusting in the driveway.

"We’ll see," she says about the eldest girl’s request to shave her legs, though it is an emergency. Meanwhile, the girl buys tights in every color.

Mama’s youngest son asks her to convert his bedroom into a photography studio, and before she can say "we’ll see" he has opened an arts business, with nude models.

The youngest daughter never asks anyone for anything. She just gets in the Triumph and speeds away.

It's All in the Name, by Mimi Grouse

23/6/2023

MEKANNICK'S WANTED!

Unemployment hurts. So does bad spelling. I stick my head around the garage door anyway. 'You hiring?' I call.
'Yup.' A spanner comes flying my way. I grab it midair. 'Mini over there. Carburettor. Urgent, like this Merc. Then we'll talk business.'
We work silently until footsteps on the cement floor tell us we've got company.
'Michael Edward Kannick. You're under arrest...'
I take my head out of the Mini's innards in time to see a bunch of keys come flying my way. I grab them midair.
'All yours now, boss. My lawyer'll be in touch tomorrow morning.'

Crescendo, by Thompson Emate

23/6/2023

She wasn't prepared for all that followed suit. She didn’t know that limelight had its taunting shadows. She was barely twenty. Lights, cameras, paparazzi, red carpet. All came with one tripod movie. She was haloed with more than she could bear. It made inroads into her. She scoured for balance on the
inside.

Years have gone past. Time and tide have chauffeured her to the ground where she stands stacking memories for her memoir. She looks into yesterday’s mirror finding harmony for today’s horror. The world can no more make her be everything, everywhere all at once. No more illusions.

Deserved Desserts, by Allison Symes

23/6/2023

Okay, hands up, I shouldn’t have shoved Mary’s head in the lemon meringue pie.

It was only because she threw a huge custard tart at me first.

The mess went everywhere. But we cleared up, laughed, ate jam doughnuts, and counted how much we raised at the fete.

We raised over £500.

People like adults making idiots of themselves. They like it even more when it’s done for a good cause.

The money’s going to Alzheimer’s. Mary and I lost family to that.

We’ve having the next make ourselves look like idiots event next month. We can’t wait.

Behind Closed Doors, by Sherri Bale

23/6/2023

It was an old exclusive neighborhood of big brick homes. Judy had lived there since birth, alone now for several decades. She covered the windows with brown paper, let the lawn go to seed, and yelled at the neighborhood kids and dogs from her porch. When none of us had seen her for weeks, the police came and broke down the door. All the neighbors peered in at the boxes stacked floor to ceiling.

Judy was sitting naked at the table, set for 10 with the good china.

“I knew you would all come!” she said, “Pull up a box!”

Inseparable Friends, by John M. Carlson

23/6/2023

Tim, Brad, and Dave had been inseparable friends through elementary school. On the last day of fifth grade, Dave knew it might be the last time the three would be together at school. At best, next year they’d move to middle school, which was big. They wouldn’t see each other as much. At worst...

Their teacher passed out report cards. The boys opened and read them.

“We’re outta here!” Tim and Brad said.

Meanwhile, Dave saw that he wasn’t promoted to middle school. He had to repeat fifth grade.

Next school year, the inseparable friends would be separated.

Passive, by Hannah Retallick

23/6/2023

Something had gone missing, a precious hairbrush belonging to Sarah’s mother. As always, a great injustice was done: its theft had been blamed on her. She was accused by Mum and Dad of hiding it somewhere, perhaps even breaking it.

The stolen article was later discovered under the couch. It was revealed as the dog's crime, based on the light teeth marks on the handle. No real harm done.

Apologies were not made for the false accusations. They never were. Still, Sarah’s teeth were sharpening. Next time something disappeared and was blamed on her, they would not be so lucky.

Speculative Fiction, by Ian Willey

23/6/2023

All the women I’d ever loved gathered for a dinner party. The subject of discussion was, of course, me.

One said, with a worried look: "the volcano has been contained."

"Yes," said another. "It is said his betrothed has lost interest."

The collective gasp nearly shattered every champagne glass.

One said: "the fool knows not the forces she is dealing with. I for one volunteer to snatch him away and rescue the earth from peril."

"No," said another, "I will!"

Then the place erupted in a catfight the likes of which one would only encounter in the realm of fantasy.

The Man Behind the Voice, by Stephen Goodlad

23/6/2023

I found my husband’s name in the library copy of Who’s Who. I was hoping it would pin down his authenticity and describe the man behind the voice. Sadly, he remained as invisible to me as he does to the public; heard frequently, but never credited.
His voice has disappeared from his answerphone now. I can’t find him on any Youtube film. He’s confined to Wikipedia. But I do hold the memory of waiting on the northbound platform at Embankment Station on the Northern Lines’ Charing Cross branch and hearing his voice say; "Mind the gap" one last time.

The Diviner, by David Dumouriez

23/6/2023

My grandfather used to say that we live two lives: one, on the surface, that everyone can see; and another one which is there, which is close, but which hardly anybody ever notices and which even those few don't understand. He said that we’re so busy trying to consolidate the first life that we never stop to look around and see the signs of how it got to us and how we’re constantly being scrutinised and manipulated.

Well, I was too young to process this, and he didn't elaborate further. But perhaps he understands now!

Overtures, by Kate McGovern

23/6/2023

She paced in the lobby, irritated that he was late. Among the bobbing heads, she spotted him. She suddenly realized she was underdressed. His tie was perfectly straight, his lapels velvet. They took their seats as the lights dimmed and the curtain raised. She felt the clamminess of his hand, his sausage fingers gripping slightly too hard.
She had always wanted to be someone who cried at the opera. She knew she never could be.

Seasick, by David Sydney

23/6/2023

Captain Gromley, who'd turned a shade of green, was in his bunk, seasick. Hastings, a crew member, pounded on his door…

"It's an emergency, Captain."
"I'm really sick in here."
"Sorry, but Mr. Collins, the first mate, said we struck an iceberg."
"What?
"A gaping hole on the port side."
"And here I thought I was just tilted that way."
"We're manning the lifeboats at his orders."
"Fine. Good man, that Collins."
"But there's not enough of them."
"What? My God, how did that happen? Next, you'll be saying I've got to go down with the ship."
"Collins's words exactly…"

Cereal Killer, by Clare Skorpla Emery

23/6/2023

‘You burnt the porridge,’ Chef snarled, pressing a carving knife into Taylor’s chest. ‘Get more oats and get it right, or I will cut your heart out’.

The deadly knife point poked him through his jacket. Taylor turned towards the larder, fists balled.

‘He can’t be serious,’ Taylor muttered, breathing in the soothing scent of the larder’s myriad spices.

As he moved bags of cloves and dried lentils in search of oats, something glinted at the back of a shelf. Curious, Taylor reached in and pulled forward a heavy, glass jar.

Inside, suspended in clear liquid, was a human heart.

The Missed Flight by K.G. Song

23/6/2023

The voice overhead announces about the one hour delay in the departure. Evan drops his head onto his chest and sighs deeply. No chance of catching the connecting flight in Atlanta, along with the chance of holding and caressing Chloe today. Evan's heart aches to put his arms around her soft body and looks into her pale green eyes.

The Atlanta to Paris flight departs on time without Evan. A standby passenger, a teenage girl, takes Evan's seat. The image of the Eiffel Tower and roasted chestnuts makes her feel giddy. Until the plane plunges toward the ocean after an explosion.

Gary's New Book, by Gordon Lawrie

23/6/2023

I typeset books for other authors. Today, my friend Gary texts asking if I’ll fix his new manuscript. I’ve done his before; they’re a nightmare.

“How much would you charge, Chuck?” He always calls me ‘Chuck’ for some reason. “It’s a mystery thriller.”

“Sorry, can you give me more info?” I say.

“80k words starting…”

f[motive(x)+means(x)+opportunity(x)]=murder(x)

He’s a mathematician, I’m not; it’s gobbledegook. I ask if it’s all like this.

“Naturally,” Gary says, “that’s the mystery. Impressed?”

“Thrilled,” I say, absently.

“There you go, then, a mystery thriller.”

I quote him £1.00 per word, £80,000. Gary says he’ll shop around, thanks.

Liars, by Libby Belle

23/6/2023

He lies eloquently, flattering the devil, provoking a smile.
His lies impress cowardly men and drive instinctive women to the brink of insanity.

She lies clumsily, embarrassing the crowd, a boil on the tip of her nose. With each intentional lie by omission, she loses a piece of herself.

Skilled or unskilled, their lies will soon take their toll - rot their precious hearts, tether their free will, mock all good intent.
And when the truth is so diluted, muddied with deception, disfigured by hypocrisy, the lies will viciously turn on the liars and ravage what little remains of their dignity.

It Gets Lonely Out Here, by Cody Segraves

23/6/2023

There’s not much light out this far, but you get used to the dark. It becomes kind of soothing after a while, if I’m being honest with you. But the loneliness, now the loneliness is another thing entirely. The loneliness will get you. Gotten a lot of folks before you, and it’s going to get a lot after. Loneliness is what drives men insane out here, not the dark. And that’s why we always work in teams of two, and why we rotate guys out so regular. Why I should have been rotated a long time ago.

Little Marks, by Frank C. Modica

23/6/2023

Every day when I got home from college, I touched the pencil lines on a door jamb that recorded my name, the dates, and my height in feet and inches. I hoped those thin black lines would change the next time I saw them but they always stayed the same.

I hated those marks, always dissatisfied with the numbers. My parents loved the ritual of the measurements but I dreaded it whenever I saw them with their ruler and pencil.

I wondered if those marks ever measured the man they hoped I would become.

Purple Plans, by Mary K. Curran

23/6/2023

Gale sees a big old plane fly over her house and remembers a long ago moment with her father.

"Just imagine. I saw these big purple herons in the Philippines during the war. They'd spread their wings this wide and fly low over the water like a squadron of B-17s. Sounded just like this when they took off." When he made surprisingly loud croaking noises she laughed and hugged him.

With misty eyes Gale looks at her two tall grandsons with their phones.

"Pack up, boys. We're heading to the air show at Andrews to see your great-grandfather's Flying Fortress."

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"Classic"
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