Blog Archives

Her sound mesmerises the infinitude of his soul. The pain in her blind eyes suppresses a story as touching as it is tragic, an enchantment he connects to intrinsically.

Moved by her performance having a heartbroken mood, and the moonlight caressing her face as it had done so often, he inner-mints a sound with astonishing tenderness and ferocity: A lonely boat is sailing on a peaceful lake gleaming like a pathway in the moonlight, the moon suddenly covered by furious clouds bringing restlessness across the sky, screaming in rage as the vessel vanishes into the void. Composing his own story.

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Happy Birthday Mum, by JC Cochrane

31/7/2021

It’s Mums Birthday and I’m having 3 teeth extracted today. Of all the days to have this necessary work carried out. But will I be able to eat cake later?

In the morning might have been a better time, at least the numbing would have worn off by tonight and surely a piece of cake would be soft enough to enjoy with the family and celebrate.

I told the dentist of my dilemma and he asked, “Did you call your Mother this morning?”

I replied “No, she’s been dead for 32 years. “

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The Empath, by Diane Chattaway

31/7/2021

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No one realizes how lonely the life of an Empath is, how a lifetime of absorbing the feelings of others can leave you feeling empty, numb to your emotions—a shell of a person, desperate to feel anything.

That's why I took this job.

Listening to clients, I see the fragility of their minds, their weaknesses.

It's a game they are unaware of, coaxing them towards despair
.
Watching a trickle of blood drip down Claudia's collarbone, I realized I'd gone too far.

I took the blade from her hand; death's not an option.

I still need her to feel alive.

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Nocturnal Visits by Shannon Chartrand

31/7/2021

“Do your parents know where you are?” asks a kind but naive lady, as she bends to give Estelle loose change.

“I hope not,” says Estelle, enigmatically.

She needs enough money for a Tim’s coffee and an All-Canadian Bacon and Egger on a English Muffin.

Estelle sits on the sidewalk at University Plaza, far from the hardware store entrance. No begging permitted here. A winter tuque frames her sunburnt face. It’s July but the hat hides her matted, unwashed hair.

Estelle’s grassy bed is hidden along the trail. Her father cannot make nocturnal visits like he used to.

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The Mother, by Chella Courington

31/7/2021

She was ten. The mother was thirty-nine. Taking her daughter to the big top was what the mother gave her every year though the mother knew her daughter feared the clowns. The tall ones on stilts with rainbow striped pants, floppy blue shoes. The little ones, mouths smeared big red. The mother started to bring home long pieces of wood. Her daughter heard the buzz of saws during the day, felt their vibrations at night. The sounds stopped, the garage doors lifted. She watched her mother walk on stilts down the drive and turn left into the falling sun.

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Sowing, Reaping, by Gerald Kamens

31/7/2021

Judge Hickum approached the elegant stranger nursing a Bloody Mary. “We’ve not met. Roger Hickum . Are you a new member?”

“I’ve closely followed your illustrious career for many years.”

“Thank you. Retired twelve years now. You look familiar. At Yale?”

“I’ve known you since birth.”

“Oh?” said the Judge, looking around for the club’s security officer.

“I’m not always dressed this way, Roger. Time to go home.”

“Home?”

“In popular imagination, I wear a long black robe.”

‘You’re a priest?”

“And carry a scythe. It’s time.”

Judge Hickum fell, lifeless, to the floor, later diagnosed as suffering a cerebral hemorrhage.

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That's Life, by Marc Littman

31/7/2021

Sam coiled his body and aimed the basketball.
“It’s rigged,” his grandfather warned the teen. “Never waste money on carnival games. See the rim? It’s oval not round, and it’s higher than regulation.”
Sam laughed. “I’m winning that giant panda for Sheila,” He blew a kiss to his girlfriend. “Love is on my side.” Buoyed by her smile, Sam dribbled the ball and eyed the prize behind the carny’s counter.
“They overinflate the balls. Buy her cotton candy instead.”
Sam fired anyway. The ball banged against the rim and plopped on his stubborn head.
The old man shrugged. “That’s life.”

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Friday Flash Fiction Edinburgh Festival Contest

31/7/2021

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First Baseball Game, by Russell Conover

30/7/2021

Dana reluctantly agreed to attend her first professional baseball game. She found the sport boring, but her friend Allison loved it. Dana gave it a try, not wanting to disappoint Allison.

They stocked up on food and drinks and found their seats in center field. The game was extremely slow, as Dana feared--until a high fly ball soared directly towards her.

Of course, her hands were full with her lunch. She panicked. As the crowd stared, the ball splashed into her cup, giving her a free bath. But, she unleashed her inner athlete, catching the winning home run ball!

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Going North, by Alison McAlpine

30/7/2021

The campervan is packed to the gunnels, we pile in, dog and all, and are off.
The sun is shining as we take the A9 east, then meander narrow, windy side roads.

"I can see the water!"

The North Sea glistens under the rare Scottish sun, which has just popped its head over the horizon. The roads follow the sea, gulls squealing overhead, circling before diving, plunging deep hoping to catch a fresh tasty herring from the freezing cold water.

Going north, the wild Scottish coastline changes, now miles of white sandy beaches edge a clear blue sea. Staycationing bliss.

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Planning a Dream, by Peter Genet

30/7/2021

We all have dreams, don’t we?

I know I do. So does Sally, my wife. Hers is to recreate a journey made back in 1970 in a T2 VW Camper van, from Swindon to Athens. When Yugoslavia was.

My dream is to ride a motorbike around the world. Yeah, right!

September this year, we’re off to circumnavigate the coast of Spain in our van.

April next year, on my birthday, we’re off to Athens in our T5 VW van.

I’ve got this idea forming for a motorbike ride – at least to Istanbul, maybe Moscow.

Who says dreams can’t come true?

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Pause, by Brian Maycock

30/7/2021

I close my eyes and there are no limits to the stars I can see. I imagine a sky shimmering with their brilliance from my vantage point. I am high on moorland, a city street, the ocean’s edge. I flit between them as fast as my thoughts can carry me.

I settle on the last and place my hands over my ears. I control the waves, have snatched them from the moon’s influence, and listen as they lap gently near my feet.

Until it is time to release the waves, breathe deep, and get back to taking out the bin.

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Humble Pie, by Sandra James

30/7/2021

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“Oh, you brought the pie,” said Greg. “It smells delicious and it’s the reason I asked you over.”

She’d never been in his house before. “Could do with a woman’s touch,” she mused, surreptitiously scanning the rooms.

Greg led the way to the kitchen and flicked the switch on the kettle.

“Cosy,” thought Jenny.

Greg put a steaming mug in front of her.

“Have you got a knife?” she asked.

He bit into his slice, murmuring his approval.

“Delicious,” he said.

Jenny preened.

“I wanted to ask if you’d give me the recipe. My girlfriend loves apple pie.”

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Scrambled Eggs, by Andrew Carter

30/7/2021

108.14° Fahrenheit is the maximum body temperature a human can survive… that’s 43.2° Celsius! Anything higher makes the body turn into scrambled eggs as proteins denature causing irreparable brain damage.

Santa shivers when he climbs chimneys in winter. Not in Australia where Christmas is bushfire season.

Black Summer forces Santa’s hand so, he rocks up this year riding a Seadoo and gives away free vaccines at every wharf.

Then, sea levels rise two feet flooding Earth’s coastal cities.

Santa builds a shiny new igloo city on Thwaites, a massive ice sheet in Antarctica.

The ‘doomsday glacier’ collapses.

So does Santa.

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The Last Goodbye, by Janice C. Carter

30/7/2021

Dressed in an ill-fitting, outdated suit and holding his hat in his hand, Eugene collapsed onto the chair beside Daisy Mae’s hospital bed. His hand clasped hers.
“Don’t leave me,” he moaned. “I watched your favorite movie; Love is a Many-Splendored Thing, last night—alone for the first and last time.” His eyes welled as he sighed.

The corners of her mouth rose a little. She closed her eyes and exhaled her last breath.

Tears escaped and streamed down the creases of his weathered cheeks. He sobbed the words, “I know you loved this old galoot—till we meet again.”

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The Meteorologist, by Sue Clayton

30/7/2021

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My radar forecasts an impending squall with accompanying sound emanation. Whether it’s a mere blip of a noise, or a trumpeting crescendo, my ears are attuned.

The blustery manifestation creeps insidiously around the crowded room before becoming the centre of awareness. I relish its breezy ingress.

Rising pressure builds demanding immediate release…liberty is granted.

Who’s played havoc with the airflow? I keep a poker face while other’s nostrils quiver.

Covert faces seek out the culprit; the dog cowers away from accusing glares and slinks away.

I’m a meteorologist…but I don’t issue weather alerts for my gaseous wind

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Cottage Time, by Jennifer Duncan

30/7/2021

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Tyler tucked his backpack behind a bush and walked quickly over to the cottage. He opened the door with the key from under the doormat. Inside, he found some organic bread, hummus and micro-brewery beer in the fridge. Mango frozen yogurt would finish off his lunch. He ate in the dining nook overlooking the lake, savouring the view and the food. Afterwards, he cleaned up, tidied everything away.

He'd been arrested for break-ins before, but he continued doing them. In the cottages, he pretended he had a home and that someone cared about him. He needed to escape his reality.

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In That Brief Moment of Freedom, by John Cooper

30/7/2021

It came on suddenly.

I cannot tell you where it came from.

But they tell me…

I might have had it a long time before I realised.

I could have acquired it at any of the places I have been recently.

It’s possible I would have got it with or without any precautions.
It only needs a small window of opportunity apparently.

Whatever happened I have it now and must isolate myself.

I have been double jabbed so I am lucky.

The chances are I won’t feel too bad and it will pass quite quickly!

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Houseguests, by Janice Siderius

30/7/2021

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Was it Seneca who first said something like “fish and houseguests stink after three days”? I am not sure about the “stink” part, but I am certainly exhausted after three days.

Do you realize that three days means four lunches, three breakfasts, three dinners and innumerable cups of tea, coffee, and sodas. And that doesn’t include the snacks.

I really like these people. They are very helpful and do not demand activities. They like to sit and converse…hour after hour after hour. My face is frozen into a fixed smile.

They just told me they can stay one more night.

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The Impossible Dream, by Ed N. White

30/7/2021

“You’re going to do what?” She tried hard but couldn’t keep from laughing.

“I’m gonna try out. Why not?”

“Because you’re not very tall.”

“Hey, other players are five feet eight.”

“Yeah, but…”

“And I’ve beefed up to one-seventy with the protein drinks. I’ve been lifting every other day. I think I can make it.”

“Yeah, but all the other guys….”

“I know, I know. Maybe I’m not going to be the fastest guy, but I’m determined.”

She sighed and said, “I’m sorry to tell you, that won’t be enough. No one playing in the NFL is eighty-five years old.

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Appointment with Fear, by Norman Shaft

30/7/2021

She’s reclining. A thin veil of tissue paper lies between her and the leather chair. The cold of the leather seeps through, touching her skin. She's bound to the chair yet not bound. An invisible cord imprisons her.

The realisation that fear is holding her there hits her. Fear isn't tangible, but she feels it. It's cold on her skin. It's dry in her mouth. It's a bright light shining in her face.

Her pulse races and her fear escalates into terror reaching a crescendo as she passes from horrifying consciousness into a welcome oblivion.

Tonsurephobia, the phobia of haircuts.

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Up North by Shona Lawson

30/7/2021

Terror that this day had actually came filled my body. How could I face my fellow countrymen, my old work colleagues and friends - at least those who had survived the fallout.

The South had been a place full of freedom and joy, long joyous summers full of choices to be made. Family, responsibilities and being extradited meant that it was time to return up North. I quickly dismissed the idea of getting the permitted haircut, the same one as the Leader to win favour upon my return, after all they can only execute me once.

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Atop the Tower of Babel, by Bill Cox

30/7/2021

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When his ransom demand went unmet, the Crimson Conundrum carried out his dastardly threat. The great city of Centopolis was blanketed in an electric field that targeted the language centres of the brains of its citizens. Across the metropolis mixed metaphors and collapsing idioms caused havoc; People found themselves up a spout without a paddle - the flying pigs had come home to roost! Even the city’s hero, Amazing Man, who had the strength of a slippery slope, found that he had bitten off more than he could swallow when he tried to grasp the early bird by both horns…

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Going North, by Isabel Evans

30/7/2021