Blog Archives

The Litter Picker, by Guy Fletcher

13/9/2019

"That poor man's just been hit by a car!" exclaimed a horrified woman at the bus-stop.

I recognised the fallen figure, now like a rag doll. Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday he picked litter from the streets in the same area, always shaking his head with disgust.

He was a small ageing little man, doing a fine job. However, when speaking to him realised he was quite mad, still it's good to have characters out and about.

I peered at the pathetic figure again as a crowd gathered, wondering if he would ever pick up litter again.

Why, by Mary Wallace

13/9/2019

I can't believe I'm reading this. Everyone goes away on holidays and finds a special place. Everyone sends postcards saying I may never come home. Everyone COMES HOME! Especially if you're a mum. How can a mum go away for a quick trip without the hubby and kids and NEVER RETURN. Why did this happen? How could you just walk away? The family are falling apart. What will we do without you mum? Who will make breakfast!

A Place for Everything, by Krystyna Fedosejevs

13/9/2019

Allen was intrigued. Something missing appeared before him. Unrecognizable. Unfitting its surroundings. He blamed a sibling for pushing other people’s items out of her way.

Father too had a mishap. He mistook cat food for tuna because it wasn’t in its usual place. Mother scolded. Nothing changed.

Earlier in the day, Allen noticed a plant bursting foliage through a sidewalk crack. Wrong place, but it made him smile.

He took out his sister’s favorites from the fridge to remove his sandwich. Her stuff went to the back.

Unlike the outdoor plant, greenish mold didn’t have a place in his life.

Mum, by K. J. Watson

13/9/2019

I burst my football when I was three-years-old.

’What’ve you done, Paul?’ Mum asked.

‘Don’t fuss,’ I told her. ‘You can buy me a new one.’

Years later, Mum lost her job.

‘Cheer up,’ I said. ‘Your redundancy money’s enough to cover the cost of my wedding.’

Time passed. Mum died.

‘Who’s going to pay for our holidays now?’ I asked my wife.

‘And Christmas … and the children’s birthday parties,’ my wife rejoined.

The day of Mum’s cremation, a parcel arrived.

‘It’s from Mum’s solicitor,’ I said. ‘Let’s see what I’ve inherited.’

The parcel held a burst football.

The Passing, by Fliss Zakaszewska

13/9/2019

They were still in shock a week later. “Can’t believe she’s gone,” whispered Matilda as the girls huddled over their morning coffee.

“I know,” agreed Jean, “Emily was the life and soul of everything. “We won’t forget her.”

“Yeah, she was special.”

The Great Unknown’s a scary place and most people don’t want to go there even though it’s inevitable.

But let’s take a peek at Emily. How’s she doing in the terrifying ‘Unknown’?

“So, Ms Johnston, you can start next month? She nods, shakes hands and walks away from the interview, higher salary, shorter hours. “Redundancy’s cool,” she grins.

Love's Descent, by Mir-Yashar Seyedbagheri

6/9/2019

A woman has jumped from the movie theater roof.

She wears a lavender dress, flame-colored hair in a pageboy. She looks so young, early thirties.

We gather like flies on shit, pretend to express sympathy. We love darkness, don shocked masks.

There’s something in this woman’s eyes. Distant. As if she lived in unreachable places. Did anyone love her? Speak that basic word?

The woman stares, mouth agape. She’s waiting. As if she wants peace from the whirl of doom.

“I love you,” I whisper.

I whisper it again, as masks of sympathy fall, coroners and cops carrying her away.

Into the Alley, by Zane Castillo

6/9/2019

He ran into the alley and pressed himself against a doorway then took his gun out of his waistband. The sound of running footsteps came closer. His heart was beating fast and sweat ran down his face. He prayed that they didn't kill Alice as he left the money with her.

He cocked his gun as the footsteps entered the alley and moved towards his location. He braced himself then lept out of the doorway and aimed the gun at the figure.

The homeless man screamed and ran out of the alley. He let out a long sigh of relief.

The Unlikeable Character, by Penny Kohn

6/9/2019

A story I wrote for a creative writing class I took this summer was 100% autobiographical. Let's hope my classmate didn't realize that when she told me she didn't like the character! Maybe it's a good thing it was an online class so my classmate couldn't see my face when I read her feedback.

Flower Girl, by Mary Daurio

6/9/2019

My summer vacation was brief because Nursing training started in July.
Mom didn’t have much to say as I got ready to depart. She sat staring pensively out the kitchen window— down our long lane.

“Are you all right, Mom?”
“I’m going to miss my flower girl, that’s all.”

When younger I’d bring her daisy bouquets from our lane, not so many now. I kissed her cheek and tried not to slam the screen door leaving.

My return brought a sweet smile to her face, my arms laden with daisies.

Spring, by Mary Wallace

6/9/2019

Gloom still hugs the horizon as feathery clouds scuttle across an azure sky. Currents of air tumble and skip, teasing both tall trees and small grasses. Shadows chase sunlight through branches and leaves stirred by warm breezes, small insects exposed by the flutter of stalks scurry for safety.

Warmth, moisture and the scent of Eucalyptus is all pervading. Dappled light entices and encourages new small shoots as the fecundity of dropped leaf litter stimulates germination. Small Greenhood Orchids raise their nodding heads towards the sky seeking light and life.

We welcome glorious Spring in Australia.

View With a Room, by Kim Favors

6/9/2019

“Checking in?”

“Um…. yeah.”

“No luggage?”

“Does that matter?”

“Well, most folks who stay with us awhile bring some baggage with them.”

“Not me.”

“Then I guess you’re good to go. Upstairs or down, or elevator, will get you where you want to be.”

“Room key?”

“You won’t need one — unless you plan on returning.”

Demise, by Sandra James

6/9/2019

He is dying. A soft moan escapes his lips as he falls back onto his pillows. He is weak and can barely keep his eyes open. He is in agony; surely no one has ever suffered like this before. The sun is slowly going down and he wonders if he will see it rise again.

I don’t have a medical degree but I’ve made a diagnosis… yes, my husband has man-flu. He will survive but it is going to be a looooong few days!

Carousel, by Don Tassone

6/9/2019

I found myself standing on a spinning carousel, holding a twisted brass pole. A panoply of images encircled me, people and experiences from throughout my life. I watched them all pass by: every friend and enemy, every success and failure, every joy and sorrow. They all blended together. I wanted to stop and behold my daughter being born again. I wanted to unsee my mother dying. But I couldn’t stop or close my eyes or pick and choose. It was all my life, every part indispensable, and as I looked out, I felt grateful for the whole of it.

The Household Tasks I’ve Neglected, by K. J. Watson

6/9/2019

The sideboard was uncompromising.

‘You’re barred from the living room, Harry,’ it told me, ‘until you dust and polish.’

I went to the kitchen.

‘Go away,’ the oven hissed. ‘Unless you’re going to degrease me.’

In the bathroom, the sink was equally combative.

‘Out. Come back only when you’re ready to fix my tap.’

I took a walk to consider the situation. When I returned, the front door wouldn't open.

‘Ready to address our concerns?’ the door asked.

‘At the weekend.’

‘OK,’ the door continued, ‘we’re not unreasonable. Meantime, you can stay in the shed.’

‘What?’

‘Once you’ve painted it.’

Funding Will, by Mark Tulin

6/9/2019

Will's always raising money. He raised money for fifteen projects on his GoFundMe site. First, he raised money for a European vacation, next it was for a Ph.D. program at NYU. Then a camera for a filmmaking career.

“Will,” I said, “there are so many needy people who have legitimate reasons to raise money like not being able to pay their medical bills. Any random thing you want, you think you can ask for it online.

“Ask, and you shall receive,” he responded and wanted to know if I could donate twenty dollars for his upcoming trip to Disneyland.

Unwelcome Visitors, by Pamela Kennedy

6/9/2019

From a land far away a little spin becomes a twirl and then becomes a voluminous gathering of billowy clouds dancing across the turbulent blue sea like a whirling dervish.

Though formerly an all-female tour de force, males have joined their ranks. Preparations for these unwelcome visitors are exhausting. Anticipation is enervating. They arrive with a fury instilling fear and anguish in the hearts and souls of reluctant hosts.

Saying farewell takes forever as they leave behind destruction, devastation and desperation.

Hell hath no fury... Respect for Mother Nature is urgently needed.

The Apple, by Bex Gooding

6/9/2019

‘Do you want the Apple? You’ve been looking at it for ages.’

‘I do.’ Eve said. ‘But I can’t…’

‘Of course you can.’ he encouraged. ‘Imagine taking a mega-byte and all knowledge is yours.’

Eve stared at the Apple longingly. She wanted it, but her husband had said no.

‘I shouldn’t.’ Eve said.

‘Why deny yourself? Think about it. Everything you’ve ever wanted to know right there at your fingertips.’

Eve looked away.

‘Well, if I can’t persuade you…’

‘You have. I want it!’

As Eve left the store with her new laptop in hand, the serpent salesman smirked.

Childhood Echos, by V. L. Draven

6/9/2019

Your words echo in my head. Hurtful criticisms from a childhood long past linger in the ether of my mind. I close my eyes, and I see your face. You are my reflection in the mirror; my face is yours. Though long dead, you haunt my waking moments.

Your madness is stalking me, drawing close, a predator in the dark ready to pounce and consume me, but I am stronger than you realise.

The jaws of the trap I have set slam shut. I look at you. Your eyes plead for life. I cannot destroy you, but forgiveness is difficult.

The Devil is in the Detail, by Ella Craig

6/9/2019

Cassie and Dave’s wedding is tomorrow, and as chief bridesmaid, I have so much responsibility. Let me check my list.

Dresses and accessories are at the hotel. Only the bride and bridesmaid’s stuff: her parents can take their own baggage.

I’ve organised the beauty team and photographer for seven tomorrow morning, and confirmed the cars, caterers, and church.

Just leaves the honeymoon tickets.

Dave finishes his call. ‘Flight times and the name all changed.’

He joins me on the bed.

‘No time for that,’ I tell him, ‘we have a plane to catch.’

The Chase, by Emma Wilson

6/9/2019

Twigs snap underfoot. Brambles claw at my ankles. Between ragged breaths I wipe the sweat from my brow.

Ahead, there is nowhere left to run. I look back; the chase is still on.

I’m too old for this. But it’s all fun and games for her.

I stop before my body gives up on me. Bent double by an old tree stump, I fumble to remove the white handkerchief from my pocket- my flag of surrender.

I call out my defeat, just as arms clasp around my waist.

“Tag, you’re it!”

Speed of Fear, by Alison Ogilvie-Holme

6/9/2019

It is midnight. You are running. Barefoot. Adrenaline has given you wings; dark feathers pierce tender flesh. You already hate yourself for leaving, just as you hate yourself for staying so long.

Cars pass by in ordinary fashion, drivers oblivious to your plight. You consider hitching a ride. But where would you go? Besides, morning will dawn bright and early, all transgressions forgiven, if not forgotten. Mother always said that night washes clean the daily sins of man.

In desperation, you recall the all night diner on Tupper Street and the kindly waitress with knowing eyes. Five minutes to safety.

Simon's Interview, by Gordon Lawrie

6/9/2019

"So, Simon, what makes you think you could work well in our zoo?"

The interviewee folded his arms. "I think I relate well to animals," he replied. "I think most of them like me, too."

"What about the general public, Simon? Could you handle a difficult visitor?"

"I think most people would say I'm pretty thick-skinned."

The panel chair conferred quietly with her colleagues, then stood to offer her hand.

"Well, Simon, we're pleased to offer you the position here. Congratulations – will you accept?"

The gorilla stood up and returned the handshake. "Certainly," he replied. "The name's not 'Simon', though."

Tempting Devil, by Sunita Sahoo

3/9/2019

It’s a moonless night. She pays the bartender in cash and heads back home.

Drunk and dizzy, she stumbles upon a stranger, clad in black from head to toe, who seems irresistibly enchanting.

“I’m sorry Sir!” she apologizes, and pulls herself away.

“You smell nice," he retorts.

Her cheeks turn red. For some reason, she feels drawn to him. Those blue eyes fill her soul with unchaste desire. Hypnotized by his charm, she reluctantly gives in.

He smirks, grabs her waist, pulls her closer, pierces her neck with his pointy canines, licks her blood.

And whispers, “You really smell nice!”

Bubbles, by Russell Conover

2/9/2019

Emily breathed in, and whooshed out into the dispenser. A beautiful bubble emerged and floated a few feet before popping. Emily squealed with glee. Being three years old with a fun toy was awesome!

She took a deep breath, and blew as hard as she could. A giant bubble appeared and surrounded her. Suddenly she was inside it! The bubble lifted off the ground, and Emily could see the whole neighborhood. It sailed around before returning to the ground, popping.

Mom turned away from her gardening to check on Emily, “Whew – that was close,” Emily gasped. “Let’s do it again!”

Call Dad, by Donna Matthews

2/9/2019

He whispers the sweetest words. Murmuring sounds about beauty, smarts, perfection. He tells me I’m not like the other girls — my cheeks flame. I am valuable! I am loved! After weeks of timid touches, I finally surrender. We are one now.

Tiptoeing out of his room, I see a photo of him. As I tenderly trace his face, the portrait shifts. Realizing I have discovered his treasure, I can’t help but glance inside. To my astonishment and dismay, the vault is crammed with pictures of girls before me. I believed his false promises. Devastated, I call my dad.

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