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Twin Obituaries, by Megha Nayar

18/9/2020

Oreo passed away on the morning of my sister’s engagement.

“We can’t make it,” I told Mom between sobs. “Tell them we’re sorry.”

She snorted, then hung up.

What sort of mother finds the death of her daughter’s pet amusing?

Ordinarily, I’d have been miserable at her words. But that day, something in me heaved.

That was the day when she, with all her disapproval and derision, ceased to matter.

We buried Oreo in the backyard. Then, we baked a paw-shaped cake for the strays.

They paid their condolences in happy woofs. We felt, in turns, much heavier, much lighter.

Ready Made, by Sue Clayton

18/9/2020

I leave Fabrice’s hairdressing salon delighted with my first ever perm;, fine, straight brown hair painstakingly transformed into tight corkscrew curls.

As I walk down the street I know I’m being admired; sense someone’s eyes following my every step. Attracted by my new look perhaps?

While appreciating my renovated reflection in a shop window I see my admirer approach from behind, landing bulls-eye centre on top of my head.

The pigeon’s face is smug as it flaps its feathers, clinging on by a clawful of curls with its fat little feet, settled and ready to roost…in a ready-made nest.

Carey, by Don Tassone

18/9/2020

“Morning, Carey,” I said.

“Good morning, Raymond,” she said. “How are you?”

“Fine. And you?”

“I am fine. Thank you. Are you ready for breakfast?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I made your favorite.”

“Scrambled eggs and toast?”

“Lightly buttered.”

“Orange juice?”

“No pulp.”

“Thank you, Carey,” I said as she carefully placed the tray on the one over my bed.

“Will there be anything else, Raymond?”

“Not right now.”

My friends are all gone. No one ever visits anymore. What would I do without Carey?

“I will return soon, Raymond,” she said, making a graceful exit.

So sweet. So thoughtful. So lifelike.

Promotion, by Akanksha Prakash

18/9/2020

She desperately wanted to be promoted. “You’re doing great but the team wants stronger evidence for promotion,” her manager broke the bad news. She felt surprisingly relieved as if this was the outcome she expected all along. She went home and ran herself a bath. Lying in the bathtub she made a mental list of things that mattered to her. Promotion wasn’t on it. Her job wasn’t on it. All the things she had spent 35 years of her life pursuing weren’t on it. She was ready to hit reset. Her body was found in the tub two days later.

Caught in the Rain, by Hailey McNamara

18/9/2020

Water dripped off pink wool. Jade’s acrylic nails dug into the fabric, wringing. Despite blurred glasses, I spied the tag: "Dry Clean Only."

Jade’s wedges clacked through the pond, a former sidewalk. My waterlogged sneakers fell in step, matching her rhythm.

Abrupt silence exploded; it stopped raining.

And Jade stopped moving.

Clammy ringlets and soggy wool floated, face down. My knees buckled; I guzzled moist concrete beside Jade. Her sniffles crescendoed, punching muggy air.

“There’ll be other auditions,” I said.

Jade rose, wool sloshing, as a rainbow embraced the clouds.

“Who cares?” Jade sighed. “I just need a dry cleaner.”

Holding it All Together, by Krystyna Fedosejevs

18/9/2020

“What’s for dessert?” Tony asked.

“Pie,” answered Faye.

She observed the table her husband had set. “Why spoons? Pie’s eaten with forks.”

Main course offerings must’ve delighted their guests. Merry conversation accompanied hearty partaking.

When Faye angled a knife into her pie to cut the first slice, liquid gushed from under the meringue. Women gasped. Men stared.

“Does anyone need a spoon?” Tony asked.

“No thanks, but I wouldn’t mind another slice,” Tony’s employer answered amid glares. “So what if it isn’t presentable. Tastes great.”

Faye smiled, sighing relief. Without an electric beater she took a gamble making that dessert.

Fate, by Swapan K Banerjee

18/9/2020

The motorised boat left the ghat. When we reached mid-river, I could see a floating black dot near the shore just left behind moving in our direction.

It was a kite riding the wind. It looked as if the string was being released by the flyer peu-à-peu.

That it was at the mercy of the airstream having no tie-up anymore with the earth below became obvious as the distance slowly diminished.

Then a whirlwind picked the kite up and drove it into an air-pocket much against its will. That’s how my father got caught in the current of the Unknown.

Plan "C", by Bruce Levine

18/9/2020

Janice and James were spontaneous. They had many things they regularly enjoyed, but could easily take a detour and discover an adventure. When one plan failed, for whatever reason, a quick turn, physical or otherwise, often proved better.

Now, however, plans “A” and “B” had become so odious because of “the new normal” that they, primarily, ceased and desisted from going anywhere unless absolutely necessary.

Now they looked to escape, do things outside “the new normal”: not in stores, restaurants or anywhere masks were required. And certainly not on-line…

Places to feed their soul.

And maybe they’d save some money…

A Head Start, by Marjan Sierhuis

18/9/2020

Celeste is elated. Fall is her favorite time of year.

She gazes upon a darkened sky with expressive black eyes sporting a look of gleeful anticipation while her tongue teases a jeweled fang.

Suddenly, gusty winds and a torrential downpour releases unbridled fury while revelers in costumes plod along a well-trodden path near her grave.

Celeste licks her lips. "Hello," she says, perched atop her headstone and wrapped in a bright red cape. "But aren't you a little early for Halloween?"

"We want a head start on the competition," they mutter after a moment of complete silence.

The Moment I Found It Impossible to Love You, by Yola M. Caecenary

18/9/2020

I believe that love is never wrong. It is pure; it is beautiful. What is wrong is to fall in love with the wrong person.

I was not sure when was the first time I had the feeling for you. Was it when you entered that meeting door? Or when you started your presentation and greeted the forum with your warmth? Or the first time you and I had a video call once you were out of town?

The feeling vapoured once I found out that we had the same great-great-grandfather. We were third-cousins who never knew each other before.

The Ginger Cat, by Janice Siderius

18/9/2020

Lying in wait, the ginger cat stared intently at the sparrow. It was having a grand time leaping from branch to branch of the flower-laden shrub, unaware of the imminent danger. I held my breath. In front of me was an existential example of nature as it is, not as we would like it to be.

As I watched, more sparrows arrived. Like a liberating army of feathered comrades, the sparrows began harassing the ginger cat. The strategy worked. The cat withdrew from the encounter, slinking away.

I was reminded that Nature’s antidote to adversity is the power of collaboration.

What If, by Sydne Gernaat

18/9/2020

His face caught my eye. Lost.

His group had abandoned him to dance.

I too felt abandoned. Surrounded by friendly faces, but unable to function as the booming bass slammed all cognitive ability out of my head.

I wondered what would happen if I went up to him. If I were the type of person who could go up to him.

Would we flirt? Would he reject me on-site? Would I go home with him?

Perhaps in a quiet bar, he would have noticed me too.

Perhaps if I was drunk I would have told him that he was beautiful.

Back to Nature, by Jim Woessner

18/9/2020

From the back patio I can see Walmart where the creek and pecan grove used to be and behind it the new mall. They removed the wooded hill in between, so I have a great view. I have to say, it doesn’t get any better. Here I am lounging outside on a plastic chair under one of those green stripy awnings. Just think of it. All week I sit in a sterile office without windows. Civilization has made me soft. But out here, smelling the neighbor’s barbecue and listening to the drum of the freeway, it’s nice reconnecting with nature.

Auditioning for Hamlet, by C. J. H. Dickens

11/9/2020

"Next!"

A debonair man strode confidently in.

"Name?" the producer asked.

"Bond, James Bond. Seventh in the queue outside." The queue ran into three figures.

"Mr Bond, we're auditioning for Hamlet here. Are you sure you're in the right place?"

"I'm a serious actor. Anyway, Hamlet kills people."

"But – "

"Licensed to kill."

The producer sighed. "OK, what have you rehearsed?"

Bond paused dramatically. "To be or not to be, that ish the queshtion? Shurely it musht be nobler in the mind to shuffer the shlings and arrowsh – "

"Enough! Goodbye, Mr Bond!"

"Doesn't Hamlet also drive an Aston Martin?"

To a Cold and Deathless World, by Ramon Oteiza

11/9/2020

"Learn," I pleaded. She was such a small pawn of the sim, created by accident. She since evolved, through a "bug" of the older models. She could undo everything. I need her insights.

I acted, using the Red oligarch minister to preach stasis. "I speak the truth," he said. Artificial listeners swooned. "I know the most," he parroted. "We are better than ever!" The generated audience buzzed with poorly-bound energy. Then, she stood.

"We are not!" she exclaimed. "You do not rule us!" She looked up towards my viewer, mouthing, "You do not." She reached up.

I awoke.

The Dads' Race, by Michelle Whiteman

11/9/2020

Sports Day 1983 – Eight men line up. ‘Dribble rugby balls using hockey sticks’ they’re sedately told. Furtive side looks weigh up the competition. The whistle and . . . . Fore! A ball is thwacked across the running track streaking across the neatly powdered rows, one disappears into the crowd under the chairs and legs of floral dresses, a child narrowly misses decapitation by hockey stick as another ball flies into the air, grown men fuelled by competitive spirit hack the ground, the air, each other and, occasionally, a bouncing ball. A race memorable enough to never be repeated.

The End, by Mary Wallace

11/9/2020

It lay on the bed; its red cover stupidly declaring its name, as if the fact that it usually lay hidden in a locked drawer wasn't enough to proclaim its purpose.

Life had been different lately. She was bored; she could no longer tolerate his gentleness, and yet his quiet integrity was the thing that had once attracted her.

Marie watched through the keyhole as he replaced the journal back into its drawer unopened. How much easier if he'd opened it and read her message.

Damn his honesty, she thought, I'll have to end it in person.

Lost in the Storm, by John Cooper

11/9/2020

It was my fault, the warning had been very clear. But headstrong as ever I had ignored it and within only a few minutes was completely lost. As the gathering storm clouds started to rage around me, I grew increasingly fearful that I might never escape and would be doomed to wander through this scene, lost to the turbulence forever.

Gradually though, as I made some more headway, the storm slowly seemed to subside and soon I found myself coming to a smoother passage.

That was when I closed the book.

Enough reading for now; I must get on.

Just A Minute, by Russell Conover

11/9/2020

“Mommy! Come play with me!” Little Betty's grin was infectious.

Amber sighed. “Just a minute, sweetie,” she responded. “Mommy's going over a big presentation for work tomorrow.” The stakes were immensely high, too, since the future of her job was hanging on this talk.

“But I want to play now!” Betty, three years old, pouted.

Amber looked at her PowerPoint. She knew it down cold. and she should treasure these moments with her daughter while she still could. She closed her laptop lid. “The Goober Monster is coming for you!” she threatened playfully. Betty squealed with glee.

Work could wait.

Wind Struck a Chord, by Krystyna Fedosejevs

11/9/2020

“Ready?” My question raced to reach his ears. We were to arrive at a neighbour’s yard, following instructions on an invitation.

Musicians delivered sounds of the old masters. Their fingers tested as an uninvited visitor exhaled cold air, trying to sculpt them into icicles. Dogs barked annoyance at its presence. Long-stemmed hydrangeas quivered.

Overhead, the hospital helicopter hummed by. Reminder of why we sat outdoors, masked, while concert halls remained closed.

Oboe, sole wind instrument among strings, took stage for the last selection.

Wind god must’ve been humbled for impending calm settled evening. Roof shingles no longer were challenged.

Happiness, by Pamela Kennedy

11/9/2020

"Nourish yourself with happiness. It is always close by. See, even the tiniest of flower petals provide a pinch of color to brighten up your life."

Tea time with Grandma was always special but today was extra special for her soothing words offered me comfort after losing Maxwell, my huggable, cuddly four-legged friend.

On my way home through the park, I noticed a young boy playing fetch with his collie. They were obviously enjoying these sporting moments. I paused and reflected upon my grandmother's prescient words. Happiness is close to us, we just have to see it.

Travelling First Class, by Sandra James

11/9/2020

London for breakfast, Paris for lunch and Rome for dinner. I enjoy my cosmopolitan life. First class. Comfortable reclining seat. No ankle-biters to spoil the ambience.

“Hey, Hostess, do you think you could get me another coffee?”

That’s where the trip ended.

My wife snatched the remote control and settled into her recliner. Seems she didn’t want to keep playing hostess to my Covid-iso armchair travel.

We’re watching an old video of the grandchildren now.

Invasion, by Sue Clayton

11/9/2020

Warm and cosy in the Sandman’s arms I drift into sleep. Until the virus sneaks into my mind; an invading germ that fires up my tired brain cells.

Go to sleep I tell myself, punching the pillows as though it’s their fault that I’m awake all through the night hours.

A pink glow peeks through the curtain racks. Sunrise and finally I slumber; invasion conquered as the germ ceases to outline, form and detail.

Plot outlined, characters formed, scenes detailed. The story is sealed in my mind, ready to unlock and be written down when I wake.

My New Life, by Tom Kottackal

11/9/2020

I have been a nun for seventy years. With very thrilling transfer news, I go to sleep. In a dream, I am in the clinic of Dr Lilly. I tell her that I need a pregnancy test. She asks me to do a urine test. A nurse takes my blood pressure, gives me a bottle to collect my fresh urine. Dr Lilly counts my pulses. I know I am pregnant. Doctor confirms it. I wake up and says loudly thrice "am pregnant.” A bursting out joy fountains within, I am pregnant, with new life, want to nurture this revitalizin

The Hermit Sage, by Anthony David Vernon

11/9/2020

On an autumn day a warrior prince walked the streets seeking the hermit sage.

Upon finding the hermit sage the warrior prince asked, “How can I rule the world?”

Annoyed the hermit sage answered, “Why bore me with such a question, I was just about to daydream. Go away, what right do you have of ruling the world and disturbing my mind?”

But the prince stood still asking once more, “How can I rule the world?”

The hermit sage answered, “Just as trees rule themselves so will the world rule itself.”

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