Blog Archives

Apocalypse Now, by Sarah Barthelemy

13/9/2018

"Don't be so dramatic!" Julian had scoffed from our bed as I'd grabbed my mother's wedding ring, my passport and told him the Voice had spoken. "Nobody warned us!"

"I am warning you."

I left alone on the road that was pitch black and empty, my sole companion the powerful torrent of water thundering down the road beside me. I chanted the Voice's words like the Rosary. "It is time, Mary. It is time."

Suddenly, the river rose up like a waking monster and took me. It threw me over and over, downwards, onwards. And all the way back home.

Lula, by Bobby Warner

13/9/2018

My husband Joel died two years ago. He was suddenly hit by multiple life-threatening diseases. The doctors gave him six months but sadly he barely lived a week.

Joel had found a little dog, which he named Lula. She was his constant companion until his death, and had been mine since.

Then I met you. We dated for six months, you made friends with Lula, we decided to get married.

Lula walked down the aisle between us. We make a wonderful threesome, and I am sure we shall enjoy this close and loving life together for many years to come!

An Extraordinary Man, by Lisa Miller

11/9/2018

Dan seemed to have lived an unremarkable life. His obituary read: Dan Jones died at age seventy-five. He was born in Somerset, Pennsylvania, where he lived all his life. An accountant, he’s survived by his wife, Beth, and son, Dan Jr. He cherished his dog, Blue, and enjoyed driving his grey sports car.

At his funeral, an unknown homeless man stood up and spoke. “My friend, Dan, was a remarkable man, he said. For over twenty years, he brought me lunch to eat with him in the city park. Never missed a day.”

A surprise for all who knew Dan.

The Runaway, by Bobby Warner

10/9/2018

"He's over there," Charles said, pointing. The young boy crouched in the bushes, trying to make himself unseen.

"Come on out!" Sheriff Michaels called.

Like a cowed animal, the boy crept forth, head drooping.

"He's been out here for three days," Charles said. "Scared lots of folks, too."

"Come on," the sheriff said, scowling. "Queer way for a sheriff's son to behave. He took the boy by his left ear and pulled him back across the field. The boy said a string of filthy words.

"Thanks for helping me catch him," said the sheriff, boxing his son's ears. "He won't bother you again!"

Q&A, by Samir Hamza

9/9/2018

When the room is ready she thumps the button against the door with her palm.

“Event shielding active,” she says into the induction mic at her throat. “Resuming interrogation.”

The light above cycles from green to red. Shadows darken and temperatures fall in the concrete coffin. Barebones arrangements: steel table and two chairs, floor-bolted. Book on the table, hissing faintly. Corpse in a chair, arms, legs torso restrained, eyes missing.

“You will answer my questions,” she says with experienced calm when the corpse shudders awake, keening. “Death is no escape. We will bring you back, as many times as needed.”

You're Mine, by Bobby Warner

8/9/2018

"Who am I?" Marco asked himself. "Just who the hell do I think I am?"

His wife looked up, a smile touching her lips.

"You're mine, silly idiot."

"I am not an idiot. Well, wait a minute. I married you, didn't I?"

"Best choice you ever made. But I'm too good for you."

"I'm a good provider, aren't I?"

"The best."

"Then shut up and let me practice my lines. The new play starts in two days."

"Who am I" Marco asked himself, winking at his wife.

"You're mine, silly idiot. Stop rehearsing, come here and give me a kiss!"

The Beach Walk, by Russell Conover

8/9/2018

Sam was in paradise. He strolled the shore, listening to the crashing waves and smelling salt in the air. What could be better?

Then he noticed something. A fish, flopping on the shore, was stuck in a plastic soda can holder. Sam jogged over and freed the fish from the plastic ring.

“I am free! I cannot thank you enough! I will now grant you the wish of your choice.” The fish winked at Sam. His jaw dropped.

“Never thought I'd say this, but I've had too much time in the sun,” he muttered. “Madness is setting in.”

Poor Soul, by Guy Fletcher

7/9/2018

"Can you spare a quid for a cuppa, mate?"

John handed the rough sleeper a twenty pound note. In the past he would undoubtedly have shunned him but John had changed. He spotted two young lovers kissing and felt sick at heart. He had riches galore but would have given all his money to be in that young man's shoes.

John was divorced. Oh, he had a mistress for mechanical sex but hadn't experienced the magic of love. All his business deals now seemed so meaningless.

John entered a church and prayed for salvation, poorer than the rough sleeper.

A Modern Tale of Two Cities, by Sankar Chatterjee

7/9/2018

An early-morning chant would wake up Josh from a deep sleep inside his hotel-room in Philadelphia where he was attending the wedding of a high-school friend. The melody sounded like an Arabic azan from a mosque. Soon, the same sound became a baritone voice singing a tune from an Italian opera. During his morning-jog, Josh found the singer near an ornate fountain around the hotel. He murmured: “Indeed, this is the “City of Brotherly Love” from where America began its journey.”

Washington, nation’s modern capital 200-km away, was just waking up to an explosive investigative report on current government’s corruption.

Inspection, by Charlotte Wise

7/9/2018

‘You want to keep me thirsty, Miss? Do you? I could die, right here, of thirst. Then what?’

Nadia’s eyes flit to the OFSTED inspector’s shoes – cheap brown brogues, customised teal laces. Wanker. She turns back to the interactive-whiteboard. Tap. Tap, tap. Michelangelo’s David. Not all of it. Just the cock. ‘Oops; let me just…’ Later she’d lament ever having tried to outmanoeuvre 9L by dissecting homoeroticism in renaissance art. She keeps jabbing. But the cock won’t go away. 9L fall silent for the first time. Ever. Then Chantelle starts rasping. Gasping for air as she slides from her chair.

Plutonian Tour of the Solar System – If it’s Wednesday, it Must Be Jupiter, by Fliss Zakaszewska

7/9/2018

This week's contribution from Fliss references the recent discovery of water under Jupiter's red spot – see this NASA link.

Vidi, Veni, Vici, by Gordon Lawrie

7/9/2018

A tale in itself, but also an allegory.

She awoke with a splitting headache.

What had she done? She remembered signing papers, not understanding but signing anyway. Copies lay beside her bed. She realised she'd been drugged, date-raped, violated. She shuddered.

"I saw, I came, I conquered," drawled a voice behind her. She turned. The beast lay beside her, wearing a self-satisfied grin.

"You're screwed, lady." He waved his mobile phone. It was all recorded. The media would tear her to pieces. Irresponsible. She'd get the blame.

She turned away in self-loathing. Then she felt his orange skin crawling on her again as he grabbed her from behind...

The Visitor, by Marjan Sierhuis

6/9/2018

It was an evening in December when Stefan ventured out into the frigid weather. He needed to appease his thirst. Covered under a cloak of darkness, he enfolded himself deeper into his coat’s warm interior. Crossing the street against a blustery wind, he made his way over to the medical arts building. He trudged in snow boots with pointed toes over the newly fallen snow. After finding the front door unlocked, he made his way past the empty reception desk to the glass partition of the blood bank.

Stefan knew it was his lucky day. But night security wasn't smiling.

Friends in Need, by Ian Fletcher

6/9/2018

Danny peered over the bridge into the swirling water below.

“I’m gonna finally do it,” he thought.

“We’ve always been there for you. Don’t leave us now,” they said.

“I must be free,” he thought.

“We’ve been with you through thick and thin,” they pleaded.

“It’s now or never,” he thought.

Danny took the packet out of his pocket.

He tried to throw it into the water, but in vain.

“I can’t do it.”

He took one out, lit it, and inhaled deeply.

Ah, peace!

Resigned to his fate, he knew they’d be with him till the day he died.

"Come and Visit Anytime!" by Bobby Warner

4/9/2018

"We're over here."

Ted looked about. The little overgrown meadow as bright with August sunlight; warmth lay like a pleasant cover over his skin.

"Who said that? I don't see anyone."

"Over here," "here," "here," "and here," replied a chorus of invisible callers.

Ted moved forward, afraid but even more curious. He quickly stumbled over the first all but hidden tombstone in an abandoned cemetery. A blade of grass slithered across his foot, and he turned and ran for all he was worth.

Lilting laughter followed him, echoing in his ears all the way home:

"Please come again and visit anytime!"

It Would Work, by John M. Carlson

4/9/2018

The gun felt cheap and flimsy. Probably made in China like everything else, Ryan thought. But it would work for ending his life.

He had no reason to live. Not since his good Michigan factory job was moved to China. He was poor. His wife left, tired of poverty.

He voted for Donald Trump, hoping Trump would save jobs. But he lost that hope when his area’s last factory said they were moving operations to Mexico.

Ryan pulled the trigger.

Snap! The trigger broke.

I can’t even end it all! Ryan thought. He glared at the broken gun.

Old Tradition Dies Hard, by Sankar Chatterjee

4/9/2018

It took grueling seven years for Rajarshi, an Indian-American millennial to earn combined PhD-MD degree. No time for romance, he now found Simi, a freshly-minted MD with similar ethnicity on a dating-website.

First successful encounter led to months-long courtship until Rajarshi proposed “Marry Me”. Agreeing, Simi noted her family-tradition of groom appearing on horseback. Internet-search would locate a rental horse, only to learn Simi’s mistake: the tradition needed an elephant. Fortunately, local zoo, due to low-attendance of tech-smart youngsters, offered a rental elephant ($3,000/hr).

Guests have now been waiting patiently for the modern groom to appear on a decorated elephant.

A Night at the Beach, by David Erdey

3/9/2018

Theyve had their turn with the beach. The good people of this city with jobs and homes.They swam. Took selfies. Now, we, come out of hiding, scanning the sand for their leftovers. Tom shines his flashlight
«That?»
«keep looking»
Finally, we find something by the waterside: A big wet bag of freedom fries. On the high rocks, we feast together. Then jump into the dark water. We float in silence, city lights reflected on the surface
«Miss it?»
Tom asks.
«No. There was too much pain there. Now, I pity it»
He contemplates my answer.
«Hm» he says, floating carelessly.

Freaking Great Storm, by Emma Harding

3/9/2018

I am telling a mother about a space ship that is reportedly hovering over some convenient plane in Arizona. It is a gargantuan upside down cliff with a metaphysical time travelling shoot from there to here. ‘Talk of probes!’ And it is changing the ecological biosphere forever. ‘A freak...fucking great storm with tornadoes and lightning,’ I almost shout in her ear. But she is not interested. Intermittently she is texting her husband; a worrisome communication about their son and whether he will once again be rude to her when she picks him up from school.

Philosophy 101, by Ian Fletcher

2/9/2018

“Hey, Ian! I just finished my online philosophy course,” he boasts.

“I’ve always found many philosophical questions unanswerable,” I reply.

“Do the course! It’ll help you out,” says the new Plato.

“No time,” I say.

“No time? I’m starting my online MBA next week,” he says.

“Back to the real world then?” I say.

“Ha, ha! But I can now apply my philosophical reasoning to any issue,” he replies.

“It’s all about lifelong learning, Ian!” he says on departing.

Relieved to be alone with my thoughts, I recall Socrates’ words, “The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing.”

A Dream Never Dies, by Sankar Chatterjee

1/9/2018

Through the automatic glass-door entrance, he noticed the young boy on his speeding bicycle come to a screeching-halt, chain it to a post, run inside the store, while approaching him: “Sir, in which isle, are the new issues of Commander McKinnon’s war heroics?” Just then, a new episode of PTSD attacked him with flashing explosion, deafening boom-sound and imaginary thick smoke. In that past war, he stepped three times on roadside explosive devices, but survived to serve his country. Now disabled, he became a front-door greeter.

He wondered exactly when his own dream left him to find a new nest!

A Portrait of Lisa, by John Cooper

1/9/2018

It was done.

A final brushstroke and after years of effort the picture was complete.

As he stood back to survey his work the Master was pleased with the outcome.

‘One of my best’ he mused.

How he had captured that ‘smile’ though he had no idea; even now as he looked at the finished work he could see it gave the picture a powerful enigmatic quality. Even in the growing gloom of his studio that smile radiated mysteriously.

‘But I must decide’ he thought ‘this needs a better title than ‘Portrait of Madam Gherardini. ’

Unity, by Russell Conover

1/9/2018

Sharon was grasping at straws for her Friday Flash Fiction story. She had a lot of good ideas, but couldn't unify them into one coherent tale.

She jotted down her ideas: sunshine, chocolate, orangutan, ocean, party. They were all vivid, but they had nothing in common.

“What will I do?” Sharon moaned.

Then she had a thought: Just write. Her fingers tapped the keyboard – first tentatively, then more confidently. The story materialized. She reviewed the work she'd just done, with a smile.

“Not my best, but decent, considering.” She cracked her knuckles. “Writing isn't so bad after all.”

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