Blog Archives

It Had Come to This, by Alyce Clark

29/10/2021

Poverty came unexpectedly. Job lost, bank account emptied, unemployment exhausted. No more stimulus checks.

Living frugally worked for a while. Two meals a day wasn’t so bad. But even the worst math student knows zero balance, plus zero income, leaves you with zero.

Swallowing her pride, she put on her coat. It had come to this. Rubbing her hands together, feeling the early morning chill, she hoped she wouldn’t run out of gas. It was crowded.

Several hours later, it was finally her turn.

“Here you go Ma’am.” They had not run out. She took her box of food. Gratefully.

Dinner With Friends, by Ann-Louise Truschel

29/10/2021

“Camille, come to dinner Thursday. George will be here.”

“Well, wouldn’t you rather spend some alone-time with him, Sue? Aren’t two of you ‘an item’?”

“I like George. I’ve been trying to get him to come by for a while, but he always has an excuse. I think he doesn’t want to be alone with me.”

“So, I’m the bait?”

“Well, if you want to put it that way.”

“I’m game. Give him a call.”

Sue issues the invitation to George, who accepts.

After a delicious meal, Sue says, “Well, Camille, what do you think of George?”

“Tastes like chicken.”

Astral Arraignment, by Kim Favors

29/10/2021

Supreme Being listened patiently as each pleaded their case.

--The newspaper publisher: “My money, my newspaper. I fired reporters for not writing stories my way.”
--The HOA president: “Homeowners dared to question my decisions.”
--The candidate: “I should have won, but the election was rigged.”

Supreme Being waved a hand. An invisible voice responded.

“Yes, this is Dante’s Delivery. How can I serve you, Supreme Being?”

“Sorry, Dante,” she sighed. “These three still aren’t ready. They’ll need to go back for another lifetime of lessons. Please pick them up on your next trip down.”

Listen to Your Children, by Rosemary Johnson

29/10/2021

Helen was determined to be the perfect mother to baby Freya. She devoured parenting manuals, which all stressed the importance of relaxed bedtime routines. Yet, every night when Helen switched off the light and shut the baby’s door, Freya howled and howled, her piteous cries reverberating through the walls and piercing Helen’s heart. Raising the problem on Mumsnet didn’t help.
In other ways, Freya flourished, walking, talking and reaching her ‘milestones’, as the manuals called them. One night, after many bedtime stories, Freya said, “Light on, Mummy. Door open, Mummy.”
Ever afterwards, little Freya fell asleep peacefully.

An Hour Gained, An Hour Lost, by David Lowis

29/10/2021

Early morning on the last Sunday in October, the day the clocks are turned back for daylight saving, Clive arrived at his London shop with a takeaway coffee in hand. He went inside, leaving the sign showing 'Closed'.

After removing his coat he sat down at the cashier's desk, sipped his drink and surveyed the shop walls. They were covered floor to ceiling with timepieces of all shapes and sizes.

He sighed, wishing that like everyone else, he was enjoying another hour in bed. Instead, he'd now be spending his extra hour winding back the time on all those clocks.

Border Child, by John Cooper

29/10/2021

He stands up from the brazier and holds himself ready. Wiping the snot from his nose he looks out at the latest vehicles passing over the river.

Refining his thoughts in the moment.

To go?

To stay?

Could this be another chance?

Life has taught him everything, and if anything, it is that everything changes.

Opportunities must be taken.

Survivors are those who dare to take a step out into the unknown, to test the waters. Borders are after all only a state of mind; you just have to play the odds, accept whatever comes and forget what it costs.

Hand On Heart, by Barbara Wheatley

29/10/2021

The results I’d been hoping for had been confirmed on Valentine’s Day.

Ever since she was born, I’ve been looking for hearts everywhere. She’d been born with a slight heart murmur.

She loves hearts. Heart shapes, heart stones, heart jewellery, heart art, clothes with hearts on, heart iron-on patches, heart puddles, heart emojis. Heart cakes and biscuits.

We exchange hearts. Share hearts. Her heartbeat with mine while she was waiting to come out into the world. She couldn’t in fact wait, and arrived earlier than expected.

Ours is a different kind of love. We find hearts in small everyday things.

That Song, by Dee Lorraine

29/10/2021

Roberta missed Joey. The young, two-month newlyweds expected longevity.

Joey, a strong swimmer.

The undertow, stronger.

Roberta’s therapist said, “Don’t hold it inside. Write it down.”

Last night, Roberta wrote:

“I thought I was over you.
I thought I could make it through.
I thought I knew what to do,
until I heard that song.
That song made us smile.
That song meant so much.
Reminds me how I miss your kiss
and your gentle touch.
Breathing deep.
Can’t go to sleep.
Nights last far too long
without you here
beside me, dear,
listening to that song.”

Tears fell, again.

Athletic Shoes, by Janice Siderius

29/10/2021

Fran sips a cup of morning coffee while scrolling through the Amazon site on her laptop. Who knew there were so many pages dedicated to women’s athletic shoes? And so many price points? Fran wanted an inexpensive pair and the quickest delivery.

Timing was crucial; she needed the shoes by Friday. That bitch jogged in the park every Friday right before lunchtime. Fran needed to be waiting and ready to pounce from the bushes and crush her skull with the lead pipe from her husband’s garage. Afterwards I’ll ditch the shoes, she thought.

Then the inheritance will be all mine.

Ruby Red, by Sue Clayton

29/10/2021

“Her face looks like mine.” Anna strokes the dimples and scratch marks on the ruby-red face of her smiling Barbie doll.

Giving her own sweet smile she kisses Barbie, Anna’s face dimpling into a mimicking map of ruby-red scars and pock-marked skin.

No need to leave, we can stay and fight, we agreed, before defeat thrust us into a desperate race.

Anna knelt on the back seat eyes glued to the encroaching inferno. When the rear window imploded from the heat, shattered glass pierced her six-year old flesh.

Our daughter’s face constantly reminds us of the race we almost lost.

Lightning, by Jennifer Duncan

29/10/2021

Paul had mentored Brad for several weeks and they were developing a good rapport. Brad was at the residential facility for juveniles because of drug charges, petty theft. They worked together cutting grass, tending gardens. Gradually, Brad began to talk about his past: his foster homes, his mother's addictions. He wanted a job to earn some money.

Paul arranged an off-site work placement with a landscaper one day a week. Brad was happier; Paul celebrated their progress.

But one day, Brad, like lightning thunder, lashed out, yelling, swearing, punching Paul. The past is not so easily left behind.

Ascent, by Caledonia Krieger

29/10/2021

A fall would mean certain death. Misstep, rope failure, rock breaking loose; death, all.

Each foot was gained with painstaking caution while the wind roared and the rain whipped.

Birds screamed, circled, lived lives in the world’s rafters.

Sleep, who remembered it? What was it like to live back in that dreamlike horizontal world?

Minds like manacles clamped to the only thing left.

Up.

Sunset made the universe a void, directions meaningless.

Yet when the moon rose to reveal half the world stretching away beneath, the whole star-filled sky billowing above, there was only one way to continue.

Up.

Beautiful Plant - Beautiful Lady, by Fliss Zakaszewska

29/10/2021

Ginny hated gardening but adored her dad, so she went out after school to help him. One day, she saw it; tiny but pushing its way up between the side of the bungalow and the drive. Admiring its tenacity, she watered it and it grew into a 3-foot plant. She banged some nails in and wrapped string around them so it could grow along the wall.

By summer, it had graceful purple flowers and had reached the rooftop… then Auntie Helen came to visit. “Felix, dear, why are you growing deadly nightshade on the drive?”

Sadly, that signed its death-warrant.

Presenting..., by Sandra James

29/10/2021

I’ve had similar dreams for the last two weeks.

My colleague Simon suggested I imagine-the-audience-naked to cure my apprehension about the upcoming presentation. Unfortunately, every night I dreamed I was naked in various nightmarish forms, making me even more nervous but yesterday the presentation went off magnificently.

Yet here I am again. This time I’m standing in the middle of our street, all the neighbours gawping in horror.

Presentation pressure over, I laugh. I pose. I do a dance.

Suddenly… ‘Get inside now, Thomas Jenkins!’ My wife Bernice is not laughing.

And… it’s not a dream!

From Here to Eternity via the Marketing Department, by Bill Cox

29/10/2021

The astronaut stood on the lunar surface, marvelling at the magnificent desolation all around him. He looked to the Earth, a pale blue marble hanging in the jet-black sky. Raising his hand, he covered the distant planet with his thumb. All of human history has occurred in that one, small spot, he thought. How insignificant we are compared to the vastness of the universe!

He experienced a moment of profound spirituality, sighed, then got back to work on the construction. Once finished, it would be visible from Earth. In ten-mile-long letters, it would read “Buy Coca-Cola”.

And Then They Came After Me…., by Sankar Chatterjee

29/10/2021

Ms. Beth Williams was attending a conference in Jerusalem on the recent rise of neo-Nazis. Israel’s head archivist, surprising everyone, released a hitherto unknown letter of Adolf Eichmann, the main architect of Holocaust. On receiving the death-penalty for his “crime against humanity”, Eichmann sent that letter, hand-written in German, to then President, proclaiming his “complete innocence as a low-level cog in Nazi-machinery”, thus asking for acquittal.

Ms. Williams was aware of Eichmann’s original proposal at the infamous Wannsee Conference, of annihilating eleven million European Jews. Later, she searched internet extensively, uncovering a lesser-known document detailing how Eichmann generated that number.

(Source: Wikipedia)

Like Nothing Ever Happened, by Brian Taylor

29/10/2021

Sylvia wanted to run, but her pride kept her there, awkwardly smiling as her nightmare unfolded. Her ex (who she still loved) introduced his new wife to her. He added insult to injury by calling Sylvia an "old friend." Sylvia's heart crumbled and her eyes stung as she shook her hand. As they walked away, he just said, "Bye, take care"...like nothing ever happened.

Two weeks later, Sylvia finished cleaning up in their bathroom, took one last look at their bloody corpses, left, and got in her car. She sang with the radio as she drove away...like nothing ever happened.

Insurrection, by Gordon Lawrie

29/10/2021

Insurrection: the locals were ignoring Imperial Law, and despite dire warnings, things were getting worse. Pontius Gordonus was at the end of his tether.

Lieutenant Chatterjee piped up. "Ever seen that film Spartacus, boss? Kirk Douglas?"

Gordonus grunted. "So?"

"At the end, everyone volunteers to be executed. It's guilt-free. Try it."

Gordonus shrugged.

"OK, who won't complete the form properly?"

Someone stood up. "I won't complete the form properly!"

Immediately, another jumped up. "I won't complete the form properly!" Then another.

Suddenly, hundreds were yelling "I won't complete the form properly!"

Gordonus nodded. "I see. Summon the firing squads, Chatterjee."

Burn Out, by Mimi Grouse

29/10/2021

'I hate books,' she said.
'Then why are you here?' asked the librarian, sniffing the air suspiciously.
'For him.' She pointed to the author who was signing copies of his bestseller and smiling at his admirers. 'He's my ex, and I'm going to put a curse on him. Watch. I hate books!' she shouted and flames crackled as the pile of hardbacks by his feet caught fire.
'That's what you get for living with your head in the clouds,' she laughed as he danced around, swearing. 'You should have noticed they were touching the radiator.'

The Barber, by Stephen O'Connor

29/10/2021

He came for a haircut. The barber raised the scissors like a matador gouging a bull and hacked the last crop of hair, then flicked the tale brush over his collar. His flecks of hair squirmed over the floor. The barber then moved near him in the chair, holding the mirror this way and that. He imagined the barber’s wife who was also his lover accusing in the reflection. With a flourish, the barber ripped the smock from his muscular ridges, and in the sudden stillness he understood in the barber’s performance he had been given, avoided, refused and accepted.

The Miser, by Lynn Messing

29/10/2021

Halloween 2021

“Oh, just great. There will be trick-or-treating again this year. We’ll have to spend money on candy for the brats. Last year was such a nice break.”

“Don’t be so stingy. We can afford it. Don’t you like seeing the kids’ happy faces when they get some chocolate?”

“It’s not worth the money. Plus, the teens down the street will probably wreak havoc again.”

“Can’t you find even one good thing about the holiday?”

“Fine. At least if they decorate our trees again, I can collect and use the toilet paper.”

“Ew. Sorry I asked.”

Gifts of the Present, by Susmita Ramani

29/10/2021

After Anna’s spacecraft hit an asteroid, she lost contact with Mission Control and became unconscious.

She was rescued by a team of astronauts who told her she’d been orbiting the Earth. After medics checked her, a car took her home.

She did a double-take because she could’ve sworn her house was pale blue, but now, there it was: butter-yellow. Inside, the person who greeted her as “Honey” wasn’t her husband of fifteen years, but a different man, whom she’d dated at the Naval Academy decades earlier.

And instead of five hell-raising sons, diminutive twin girls chirped, “We missed you, Mommy!”

Competition, by Allison Symes

29/10/2021

‘I’m the best oddest character in this world. I’m a talking, clothed egg.’

‘True, Humpty, but I’m a talking bear who loves porridge and loathes greedy blonde kids who smash my house. You should’ve seen what that brat did to Junior’s chair.’

‘We all know what bears do in the woods, but houses?’

‘Quite, Humpty. Mind you, I can move about. You’re stuck up there.’

‘I could jump but that has risks. I don’t fancy becoming an omelette.’

Humpty regretted the words on saying them. A porridge-loving bear might well fancy a new egg dish.

And he did.

Sustenance, by Alex Bestwick

29/10/2021

Bindweed – Creeping Jenny – scatters the hedgerow like sheet music. White notes on green pages, a silk trumpet song of persistence. From the picnics of July to the drizzle of October, Jenny survives; they call her a weed for it.

Then come the children, with their little hands and their games: squeeze the flower from the sepal, ‘granny-pop-out-of-bed.’ But Jenny knows how to feed herself, to choke life from a threat. So keeping playing; sustain her for another month.

The Storyteller, by Paul Gravanel

29/10/2021

On Halloween, Uncle George told ghost stories to the local children while Auntie Enid watched from her armchair. They exchanged glances and smiles while the little ones sat enthralled by his tales of phantom pirates sailing the stormy seas, spectral hell-hounds stalking country lanes and ghostly Spitfires flying over long-deserted airfields.

When the storytelling was done and the last child, stuffed with sweets, had departed into the chilly night, George turned off the lights and headed for bed. Before climbing the lonely stairs, he patted the urn standing on the sideboard. “Goodnight, old girl,” he said, “Same time next year”.

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