Blog Archives

The Collector, by C. J. H. Dickens

30/8/2024

Editor's Choice

I get great satisfaction from my job. I do it well.

No one is genuinely ready for me, whether they’re in Gaza, Ukraine, in a hospice or a car crash. And they’re all expecting a man. Heaven knows why; men can’t be trusted with important things.

Recently, I picked up a small child in the London area. Somehow, she’d wandered onto the M25, with predictable results. I told her I’d come to collect her.

Understandably, she wanted to know where we were going.

I gave her the same answer as I give all the others: I was taking her home.

Better Times, by Pamela Kennedy

30/8/2024

The only flicker of romance celebrating our anniversary was the candle on the impeccably set table. Everything that evening was perfect, except for us. It was a quiet celebration, too quiet. The laughter, smiles, and sparkle in our eyes were missing. Gone... along with that special something we had for each other.

Honey, deals don't get done, promotions don't come through. Life is full of disappointments. So let's not be sullen and celebrate what we have...I have you and you have me. Togetherness is bliss.

What's that? You'd be happier without me?!!! You rotten @#$**!

Kitchen Fire, by John O’Keefe

30/8/2024

The seafood restaurant burnt to the ground yesterday.

Now that we have gone through the smoldering structure with a fine-tooth comb we tell the fire marshal we believe the fire was probably caused by faulty wiring. After surveying the site he agrees with us, and we fill out the report: ELECTRICAL.

He reads it once, twice… then suddenly remembers he still has to notify the joint owners of the restaurant. Where are they? The chef/manager says, one of them is doing missionary work in the Amazon rainforest and the other is vacationing in Bali.

Change the report: ARSON.

Tits Up at the Abattoir, by Sherri Bale

30/8/2024

Hey, lookit! Joe called to Tom during their smoke break behind the slaughterhouse.

Joe pointed. Lying on its back in the creek, tits up, was the full carcass of...something. Huge. Hairy. Nothing they recognized.

What the hell’s that?

A skunk ape or a Yeti?

Those don’t exist, you fool! Tom guffawed.

Back at their rendering table they inspected the dismembered leg they sneaked in.

Not a cow. Not a goat, bison, or buffalo. Not even Bovidae at all.

Tom sheepishly placed the call to the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense.

“We found an alien,” he whispered into the phone.

Fifteen, by Allison Symes

30/8/2024

‘I understand fearing the number thirteen due to bad luck, but you’ve picked fifteen, Shelley. For Pete’s sake, why?’

Shelley shrugged. She wasn’t telling her old-fashioned mother she’d dumped kindly Pete at 15 Westwood Crescent.

Why feel the need to be in with the school gang and dump him? She got the kudos.

He gave her sad looks.

She could imagine the teasing he received.

She liked him. She was her own worst enemy, as she’d told herself fifteen times already.

She walked out ignoring her mother.

‘Fifteen, acting more like five I’d say.’

Shelley knew that was true too.

Guilty, by Sandra James

30/8/2024

Yes, it was me. I pushed him. I'd had enough and couldn’t put up with any more.

He had a new excuse every day. Complaints and excuses were all I heard. If complaining was an Olympic event he’d have won gold.

So, one day I snapped. I gave him an earful and then I pushed him.

I'm glad for if I hadn't, he'd still be procrastinating and finding excuses. Instead, he's up on that stage ready to accept the book award.

If I hadn't pushed him, he'd never have finished it. I hope he remembers me in his acceptance speec

Always, by Dart Humeston

30/8/2024

In line at the espresso shop Jeffrey told another customer that he gave up coffee once.

“It was the worst ten minutes of my life!” He said.

“Stop telling that stupid joke.” His wife April snapped.

“It’s my favorite.” Jeffrey said.

“It isn’t funny.”

“Sure, it is! Watch this!”

Jeffrey stepped to the counter telling the joke to the barista, an attractive young woman. She laughed.

“It was funny, right?””

The barista nodded with a wink.

“Always!” she said.

She took their orders and went to prepare them while April turned to her husband and said one word.

“Always?”

Star Light Star Bright, by Kim Favors

30/8/2024

It was almost like our camping trips: Jesse on her bed and me atop a sleeping bag.

Except no tent this time. And we’re snuggling on the patio outdoors on this special starry night.

With the morning sun Jesse awakens first, stretching and smiling at me.

Too soon we’re traveling.

She senses where we’re going. “Dr. Quinn is ready for you,” the receptionist says upon our arrival.

Jesse climbs onto her bed. I lie down beside her. We snuggle. My best friend again smiles — as if to reassure me that everything will be OK.

Angela's Crashes, by Tom Baldwin

30/8/2024

‘Another write-off, Angie? Really?’

‘Sorry, Daddy. The bend was too sharp and I hit a tree. I’m OK, but the police breath-tested me, even when I told them who you are.’

‘Did you fail?’

‘Yes, and they said I was speeding.’

‘Was anyone hurt?’

‘Not this time.’

‘Don’t worry, Angie — our lawyers will sort it, and maybe have that cop disciplined.’

‘Thank you, Daddy. Now about the car…’

‘OK, I’ll get you another. A Range Rover this time.’

‘Can’t I have another Ferrari?’

‘No, Angela. You need something more substantial if you’re going to keep crashing like that.’

Slice of Suspense, by Nicole Niswonger

30/8/2024

He paces nervously around the kitchen, watching the clock–five minutes to two. He glances out the window; the coast is clear. Sweat beads on his forehead as he picks up a large knife. Testing the sharp edge with his thumb, he steps forward, heart pounding. He checks one last time over his shoulder and raises the knife. He slices, pausing to wipe the blade clean, and slices again, admiring his work with each cut. Finally, he is satisfied and transfers his work into the backyard. A smile spreads across his face. “Who’s ready for birthday cake?”

Playground Tribulations, by Sandra Falconer

30/8/2024

We’d mastered every manoeuvre possible on the park slide. I sensed a challenge.

‘Let’s climb up the slide side, turn around and go down belly flat.’

Normally, Susan would have been game. Today she wore new red patent leather shoes with dire warnings not to scuff them.
As I badgered, her resolve weakened. She managed the slippery climb, skilfully manoeuvred the turn then hurtled down triumphantly. Until she snagged one of her new shoes on a protruding nail that is.

Laughter turned to tears as we inspected the jagged tear. We knew we were both in big trouble.

End This, by Brian Taylor

30/8/2024

Mary and I were still fighting when I finally found a parking spot at Walmart.

"I'm getting sick of you," she said.

"I've been sick of you," I answered.

"Oh, I know you've hated me," she said.

I didn't deny it.

"Maybe we need to end this," she said.

Before I could answer, "Yeah," we heard a loud bang. We both jumped.

We turned to the car next to us. Bloody window. A man slumped over. Mary screamed. I gasped.

She sobbed, "Oh my God." I called 911. Soon a crowd was forming.

I thought about holding her, but couldn't.

Monkey Brain, by Rebekah Lawrence

30/8/2024

She was supposed to be concentrating on the design; but her brain kept interrupting.

`If rules are so important, why are there exceptions?`

Ignore it.

`Why am I always the exception?`

She laughed, then frowned. Must concentrate. She added a few details to the design.

`Are exceptions exceptional?`

Word play, perfect! The one thing she could never ignore.

`Am I an exceptional exception?`

Shaking her head, she adjusted some colours.

`I am an exceptional exception, except when I am not.`

She sighed. Almost finished.

`Except when I am expected to be an exception`

She shut the laptop.

She’d finish tomorrow.

Stolen Identities, by Neil Weiner

30/8/2024

Antonio lost his job, and his girlfriend broke up with the familiar refrain, uncommunicative and lacked passion.
Three weeks later, Antonio received his first unemployment check. Opening it, his mouth fell agape. The amount was twice what he could expect from his menial job. The letter stated he was a programmer for Apple; an undocumented person stole it.
When he checked his old email account, he discovered an extensive online romance with Celia, an attractive, intelligent woman. Carefully studying the romantic wording, he wrote an enthusiastic request to meet her. Later, Celia fell in love with the sensitive, ambitious programmer.

On the Bough of a Cherry Tree, by Krystyna Fedosejevs

30/8/2024

She arrived at the street of her childhood. A gravel walkway between houses led to a plot of undeveloped land where plants had sprouted from wind-borne seeds.

It was her sanctuary in troubled adolescence. His too. The classmate who shared her passions. The one she saw hold hands with her best schoolgirl friend.

Progressing to higher education, he abandoned them both.

Over protruding roots she struggled, pushing branches away; her mind intent on finding what stayed with her since youth.

A rarity it was, a cherry tree— offspring from someone’s garden.

Her and his initials still intact within a heart.

The Elusiveness of Excellence, by Mimi Grouse

30/8/2024

Daniel travelled widely in his pursuit of excellence. He wrote poems in Athens and Rome, and in the cafè on the Rive Gauche famous for its literary patrons. He wandered down the Champ Elysees and through the halls of the Louvre. He caught the ferry from Calais to Dover and stood on the rain-washed deck, waiting for the White Cliffs to inspire him.
Soaring overhead, a seagull glimpsed fluttering Moleskine pages and swooped in for an easy meal.
As the only copy of his work fell, shredded and useless, into the Channel, Daniel's language turned the grey sky blue.

45 Applies for a Job, by Gordon Lawrie

30/8/2024

Candidate number 45 glared across the table at the three-Martian interview panel: Algernon, Beatrice and Claire.

Claire began. “So… 45, why should you be CEO of Mars?”

“I’m the colour of Mars. And everyone says I’m the best.”

“That’s not what we’ve heard. And this is Mars, not Earth,” Algernon pointed out. “And your slogan… ‘Make Mars Great Again’. Are you saying Mars isn’t great already?”

“Mars has no atmosphere!”

Before 45 could say any more, Beatrice vaporised him with a death ray.

“I like our atmosphere,” she complained. “Next candidate – 46!” she called out.

A frail old man entered.

Kids These Days, by Gary Ten-Hove

30/8/2024

Getting modern students’ attention is hard, but when an earthquake – Marsquake, Wesley supposed – shook the dome walls, everyone lost interest in everything.
Wesley kept going. “Plague is understated in Romeo and Juliet. It’s almost invisible to the modern audience but in the sixteenth century –”
No one listened. They were running around, babbling and putting on their damned pressure suits.
“Stop that,” he said, but they cycled through the lock and left him alone.
Kids these days. Ignorant, uninterested, and undisciplined.
He put on his suit too, just in case, tucked his helmet under his arm and went to complain.

Dream ... If Only, by Barney MacFarlane

30/8/2024

He experienced three of the longest, widest yawns known to humankind. But still no sleep.
Turning over yet again, he considered Martin Luther’s wondrous philosophical point about conscience: that one must proceed as one’s conscience intimated and not decreed by doctrine.
But Dugald’s conscience was more in the guilty category.
Yet his deeds, widely reported as they had been, had not led to an arrest. And Dugald had wisely emigrated to a country with no extradition treaty with Britain.
Soft waves on the shore outside; the smooth back of the woman – paid for – lying beside him…
Conscience? Also paid for.

A Wasted Life, by Jennifer Duncan

30/8/2024

September 19, 1970, was the day that Linda decided to waste her life. It was the day she told her mother she was pregnant, the father not interested.

"You can't keep it. You'd be wasting your life."

Linda moved in with her friend's family who helped her stay afloat. Eventually she became a teacher.

September 19, 2015, Linda cradled her delightful newborn grandson in her arms.

"Grandma, play with me."

"Grandma, look at my picture."

The two older grandchildren vied for her attention. She loved spending time with them. They were precious. It was wonderful to be a young grandmother.

Art, by Don Tassone

30/8/2024

Art came for me this morning, as I knew he would.

I’d just thought of a girl I had a crush on in the seventh grade. She was an early bloomer. It was only a passing thought, but no thought, however fleeting, escapes Art.

Now here I am, locked up for an impure thought. There’s no one else around — only bots keeping watch. I wonder if I’m the last of us.

Ever since we created him, Art hasn’t stopped. But what will he do when I’m gone, when there are no more minds to control and no more original thoughts?

Wishes, by Sue Clayton

30/8/2024

A vibrant rainbow speared into a drought stricken field of drooping sunflowers.

A farmer chanced upon its end; not a pot of gold but a golden pot. Inside a note read ‘you have one wish’.

Endless possibilities whizzed around his brain, until.

“I wish that, every time I make a worthy wish, that wish comes true.”

He tested the note. “I wish for rain.” The heavens obliged.

“I wish for my crop to thrive.” Sunflowers raised their heads.

No war, poverty or food shortages. Worldwide happiness and good health.

I wish I could discover that rainbow’s end.

I Have Not Forgot That Which I Have Never Had, by Steven Holding

16/8/2024

She’d no man; no kin, to speak of or too. Addressed this sorrow knitting for children, kindness expressed via needle and thread. Her solitude mocked, other yarns were spun. I went to see which were true.
I wanted to view a witch.
She sat, at her window, surrounded. A family of featureless children.
Shop store dummies, impeccably dressed, clutched, cradled to her chest, saggy teat offered to where a mouth should’ve been.
Dry of milk, she ripped at her nipple, twisting skin until fluid dripped. Bloody tears running, ruining a blank expression.
Her gaze met mine. Smiling, beckoning me inside.

The Applicant, by Sarah Samson

16/8/2024

“I’ve successfully taken 157,680,000 full breaths,” the Jane replied winking.

The joke didn’t just bomb, it bellyflopped into a pool of starving sharks while covered in blood.

“I asked what you’ve been doing for work for the last decade,” the interviewer said.

Jane fingered her clean-but-out-of-style shirt cuff nervously. She thought of diapers, car rides, doctor visits and fresh dirt on new graves.

“Career sabbatical,” she responded. Like Sisyphus, she pushed her resume across the wooden desk.

Her interviewer’s mouth had become as flat as a flounder.

“Thank you for your time,” she said. “We are seeking someone more experienced.”

Signs, by Rory Perkins

16/8/2024

My brother scours the beach for signs of life. He thinks there are people out there, at the bottom of the ocean.

Rusted coins wash up, evidence of a society. Mum’s card is declined at Tesco so he offers a few farthings, still damp. She pulls us away.

Later, he finds a pair of broken headphones. While mum and dad argue we sit in his room listening to the nothing they produce that he swears is the sea calling.

He has been missing a week now, and I am at the shore waiting for the courage to join him.

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