Blog Archives

The Toy Maker, by Mary K. Curran

27/9/2024

Oliver Zudden sat across the table from his crazy aunt eating potato chips and sipping warm ginger ale.

“When that lady fell dead off her porch Daddy said police found her house full of dead animals with name tags. Dog, cats, rabbits all around just like your dolls,” he said.

“They are nice, aren't they, Ollie?”

“Daddy said she was a taxi... something... and making kid's pets into stuffed toys.”

“Oh, fiddlesticks. She was an amateur. Turning children into dolls with magical potions, now that's a special talent.”

“What?”

“Finish your soft drink, sweetie. Does your mother know you're here?”

Emerging Poets, by Ian Willey

27/9/2024

The clerk handed me the pot containing poet seeds. It was on sale.

“Remember to give them lots of sunlight,” he said. “And to praise them three times a day.”

I brought them home and put them in a spot that got lots of light. And as the sprouts poked through the soil, waxing poetic, I made sure to tell them, “You’re doing great!”

But one night I forgot. What can I say? I was busy.

When I found them in the morning they were mummified—mouths agape, eyes to the heavens. Their last words will always be a mystery.

The Dream and the Dreamer, by Sandra James

27/9/2024

The dream grew wings. It flew over rooftops, soared high into the clouds. It saw tall mountains and hills, all the colours of the rainbow. It heard the melodious sound of birdsong and the roar of as lion. It smelled fragrant roses, carnations and lilac. It touched cold snow and hot, hot desert sand. And it tasted the salt from the spray of the sea.

The dream met friends, some new, some from long ago.

The dream and the dreamer wandered free, without restraint.

Then the alarm sounded and the dreamer opened her eyes.

The dream disappeared without a trace.

His New Hobby, by Stephen Goodlad

27/9/2024

Explaining his parachute jumping to her:
"The ground is not where you left it. The fall takes your breath away as the air rushes past and your brain sings. Suddenly you are only holding an umbrella in a windy place; feet dangling as the earth reaches out to you but won’t get out of the way, so you try to land where the grass will yield. You’ve shouted profanities into the air as adrenaline kicks in. Do you remember adrenaline?”
She did. He’d never spoken so passionately about his train set. She almost wanted to join him. But not quite.

In the Midnight Hour, by Tony Covatta

27/9/2024

Solitary Sid surprised himself, attended Marcia and Marty’s do. Cynical Sid always told the same “joke:” “They’ve invited their 250 closest friends.” Not tonight, Sidney. He’d long been out of circulation. Turnout sparse, they’d more likely invited the hundred they knew were still alive.

Unsettled Sid circulated, chatted up the lame and the halt, joshed the chair bound, jollied the crutch riding, joked with widows and widowers. He skipped sipping wine, chugged a double bourbon.

Smiling Sid drove home feeling no pain, but scraped a wall parking his car. “Oops, I’ll fix that before Niles and Nellie’s party next month.”

It Doesn't Matter, by Linda Jones

27/9/2024

The time for apologies is here and now. Closing my eyes, rehearsing it a million times over in my head. What I would say, what he would say.

I give my confession, wait for him to say that is is okay, it didn't matter, he still loves me, I still love him. But in the silence, I am the one to say, it doesn't matter. I even laugh. A stupid one-night stand, it meant nothing. It doesn't matter.

But it did and it does, and I fall to my knees before his keys hit the floor.

The Biggest Losers, by Kim Favors

27/9/2024

“I don’t care whose idea this is, I still think it’s disgusting.’’

“But it’s a job and you're working, right?"

The two men continue erecting the prefab building. On one door the sign: Unwanted Newborns Here. On the other: Adoption Applications.

“So who’s funding this pilot project?”

“That’s the new big argument. Mothers who were denied abortions say they don’t have the money. Pro-life lawmakers say now that Roe vs. Wade is overturned, they’ve got more important things to deal with.

“The biggest losers are the forgotten kids. Maybe better unborn than unwanted.”

“So will we get paid?”

The Dream, by Guy Fletcher

27/9/2024

Julie was at her sister's house on a wet Tuesday afternoon, tears of rain dripping down the window panes, when she related her dream.

"Suddenly I saw little Martha standing at the foot of the bed saying she would see me again on the other side. I felt overwhelmed but this brought a joy which lit up my troubled soul but then she vanished like morning dew. It was so vivid."

Her twin sister took a sip of tea with amazement in her eyes, her face had turned white.

"Last night I had the same dream."

Victory and Vengeance, by Tom Baldwin

27/9/2024

‘Congratulations, Mr President. You’ve been declared the winner yet again. Look at the crowds cheering you — they’re bigger than ever before.’

The President scanned the banks of TV screens showing the adoring throngs and his humiliated opponents as he tapped out bizarre messages of victory and vengeance.

‘I want all those who plotted against me destroyed!’

‘I will see to it, Mr President.’ The psychiatrist left the room and locked the door. It was a hopeless case, with no cure, the only therapy being a continuous video loop showing the very old man what he wanted to see.

Revenge, by Sandra James

20/9/2024

The long queue advanced slowly but finally Stacey was almost at the counter… until that woman in the green jacket pushed in front. Her query was long and complicated, but eventually sorted. The woman turned with nose in the air, brought her stiletto heal down on Stacey’s canvas trainers.

Stacey limped home, planning revenge.

She was computer proficient and watched enough crime shows to be able to search for the nasty woman in the green jacket.

She trawled Facebook until she found the familiar face. Evelyn Anderson.

Perfect. She had a name for the evil character in her next novel.

With a Cleaver, by Laura Shell

20/9/2024

All the houses on the tree-lined street had motion-detection lights. Theirs went off. Then theirs. Then theirs. Hers, which was blocked by the side of the brick house, lit up the walkway that led to the concrete landing just outside her front door. She stood there in the dark, in her robe, having a smoke. Usually, a critter lit up the lights—opossum, raccoon, aardvark, cat, or dog. Sure enough, one of them appeared—a small dog, shaggy and wet. But this critter was a decoy. Right behind him came a man, shaggy and wet. With a cleaver.

The Rabbit Wore Ballerina Slippers, by Krystyna Fedosejevs

20/9/2024

Mabel stared at the paper cutouts. What’s next?

Friends made handicrafts throughout their childrearing years. She had to relearn skills.

Home economics was her least favourite subject in junior high. If it weren’t for her mother’s expert help, she would’ve failed the course.

No sense visiting the past, she realized. A deadline must be met. She cut out pieces of fabric according to the pattern a friend had lent and put them together using a sewing machine.

At the ballet school’s production of ‘The Velveteen Rabbit’ her daughter danced splendidly as a rabbit.

No one remarked on the forgotten tail.

Justifying Space Travel, by Stephen Goodlad

20/9/2024

The Harvest Moon rose into the serene sky, so bright as to outshine the milky way. Back on Earth, the billionaire astronaut considered his next destination having stepped outside his space capsule hundreds of miles high. Then a crescent shape shadow appeared as though the moon had been punched. It had been so peaceful, but where he was now, missiles were fired at citizens with drones. Communication devices exploded in people’s faces. Tit-for-tat retributions would escalate conflicts. Great swathes of a continent were under water after a hurricane and the temperature was still rising. The astronauts dream paled to insignificance.

A Brief Argument, by Brian Taylor

20/9/2024

Editor's Choice

I said, "How could she do this to me? I never cheated, I never hit her, I worked hard to provide her the best life I could."

You said, "I know that. But her childhood... her trauma. She needs time to work on herself, so she can come back and be a better wife."

I said, "What about the kids? She left them too. I do my best but who knows the damage that's already being done to them, while she works on herself!"

No response. I guess I won. I wish I hadn't. I could have some hope.

In a Conflict Zone, by Sankar Chatterjee

20/9/2024

Kuldeep Singh, a war-correspondent for the Indian news outlet PTI, flew from Delhi to Tel Aviv in a late night flight, later checking into his tenth-floor room in the Hotel Carlton, on the beach of the Mediterranean Sea. Next morning, with a cup of coffee, Kuldeep came out to the balcony.

A glorious morning sun was unveiling, bathing the nature with bright orange rays; sea-gulls still not visible, but several objects moving on the sea. Focusing, he realized they were missile-carrying small warships, en route to a new day of regional conflict.

Kuldeep pondered for whom the sun was rising?

The Case, by Allison Symes

20/9/2024

David lifted the red case from the top of his late mother’s kitchen cupboard.

He doubted it contained anything important but given how often she’d told him never to poke his nose in there, he’d regret it, she’d have the last laugh, well… once she was gone, he’d known it was the first thing he’d investigate. She would’ve known that too, surely.

David smiled. Truth time.

Setting the case with care on the table, he slowly lifted the lid, spotted a loaded spring and…

Was hit in the face by a custard pie.

Somewhere, David swore he heard Mum laugh.

More Revisions, by Mark Tulin

20/9/2024

I was in a room with Amy, my book editor. I was at a desk, and she was standing over me. Amy shook her head when she returned my manuscript. She gave me a stern glance, and I froze.

In dreams, I take harsh glances seriously. I backed off. I realized that my editor’s stern glance challenged my ego. It meant that my story needed a lot of revisions, which I was reluctant to do.

When I woke from the dream, I felt anxious and considered changing editors to someone with a gentler approach—but instead, I revised my story.

Do Your Duty, by Sherri Bale

20/9/2024

He laid out t-shirts trying to decide which would be best. There were rules: no partisan shirts, pins, or buttons allowed. The red/blue silhouette shirt wouldn’t do. “Hope” was probably unacceptable, too.

He selected a plain gray tee. It was roomy and would do nicely. He taped his weapon securely to his hairless belly and slipped on the shirt.

He entered the voting booth and drew the curtain.
Reaching into his shirt, he drew out his lucky No. 2 pencil. He carefully filled in the ovals next to the name of the one he prayed would become the next president.

Crib Death, by Neil Weiner

20/9/2024

2 Comments

“Shut Up! I can’t stand the crying. The Screaming, your horrible noise. Your demands. You’re wrecking my life! Can’t you give me a minute of peace.”

But it just gets louder, the incessant wailing. Gasping, Marsha cries out, “You’ve cost me my sleep, my marriage, and my job. You are making me do something drastic. Can’t breathe.”

Suddenly, a sniveling voice penetrates Marsha’s diminishing consciousness, “I promise I’ll be quiet. Don’t do it!”

Choking now, Marsha gropes at her neck to claw away the tightly sealed plastic bag to no avail.

Too late. Marsha and her inner child die.

2 Comments

I'm Alive! Well Sort of, by Wendy Forshee

20/9/2024

Choking, coughing, spitting earth, air almost, anytime now. Awe, he was out. His head at least. Covered in red clay, struggling. Was he broken? Buried for so long, bumped from behind, unconscious, unwilling.
“Ahh, ahh,” life, still. “No!” he screamed. “They didn’t!”
Tears, taunting, mixing with pieces of clay. They tried to kill me. Floundering, a foot, worming out, another foot freed. There came a knee, another knee. Finally his shoulders. He sat up. Feeling his body, remembering the wound. A hole midway of his chest, charred black, ribs broken. Smiling, he looked at the full moon and howled.

A Date with John, by Deborah Shrimplin

20/9/2024

I stood at the entrance to the cave, turned to John and said, "Dating you is always an adventure. I'm not sure about spelinking."

"It's spelunking. You're not claustrophobic and I love your high sense of adventure. Come on. Follow me."

"What a girl does for her man!" I said and followed him.

We crawled through a maze of tunnels for what seemed like miles. When we entered a large cavern, I gasped. The light from a dozen candles shone on the crystal walls creating a fairyland of sparkling lights.

John smiled at me and said, "Will you marry me?"

Little Orphan Babble, by Carol Ann Parchewsky

20/9/2024

Babble wandered the sticky aisles of the cinema looking for unopened bags of Jelly Tots on Wednesdays when they were part of the aficionado’s combo. Babble liked the orange ones best, not because they tasted like a sun-ripened mandarin in December, but because they tasted like a fizzy-shot of Fanta. No one drank Fanta in Richmond anymore. The last can sold two-hundred-seventy-seven days ago. When Babble drank Fanta, he warbled like a salamander fighting for the last moist cavern in Shardale. When Babble sang, he glimmered like gold in a Yukon stream. When Babble glimmered, Daddy Warbucks realized Babble’s potential.

Hot Water, by Mimi Grouse

20/9/2024

'Ellie, you've filled up the kettle and left the lid open again. Why?'
'Sorry, Ma. I forgot.'
'And stop fiddling with that wretched phone!'
Shoving her earplugs deeper into her ears, Ellie blocked out Ma's voice and clicked on the reel advertising "Disempowerment Brew".
'Fill a kettle with water. Leave its lid off for six minutes to allow the sprites in. Once the water's boiled, they'll fly out on the steam and disempower anyone who troubles you,' said the Influencer.
Suddenly afraid, Ellie looked up.
The kettle had boiled, switched itself off, and Ma was sprawled, unconscious, on the floor.

What's Done is Done, by Ding Xiaohan

20/9/2024

The woman gently placed a paper boat on the surface of the lake, hoping it would follow the breeze, sail to shores she had never reached, and witness landscapes she had never seen. Yet, the water slowly soaked into the paper, and the boat grew heavy. Its shape became distorted and eventually sank into the depths of the lake, with only a photo rising to the surface alone.
She had already gotten divorced from that violent man, and the existence of that unborn child was known to no one but her, lost in the quiet embrace of the water forever.

Fries With That, by Virginia Ashberry

20/9/2024

1 Comment

The guy at my counter wears a T-shirt emblazoned with the word ‘Triumph’.

That’s a funny word.
I’ve tried to ‘triumph’, but with no luck. How could I become the best at anything when all my life I’ve been a two-fisted loser?
Too fat for athletics and my learning disabilities screwed academics.

“Would you like fries with that?” I ask my t-shirted customer.

“Nah. I gotta stay slim”, he smirks looking at my girth.

I add a small extra item he didn’t order to his bill. They never check.

Maybe I can start writing. Yeah. Spell-check will counter my deficiencies.

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