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Full Circle, by Roshanna Sidney Evans

13/11/2015

Inside the dark night, bones folded in a thousand directions that made no sense, the young girl sought the security of sleep where she needed to be to travel in a million directions simultaneously and know why she'd broken. She warmed the damp of darkness with her frightened sweat before she let herself be swallowed into the ink that would sign her story across the galaxy of all time.

“Aha,” she said, every time her body merged with eternity as revelation after revelation seamlessly mended her bones with the unbroken thread of Time. “I broke to realize I was unbroken.”

A Death In The Family, by Ann-Louise Truschel

13/11/2015

“I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Cosgrove, but you understand, in cases of homicide, we have to talk with everybody.”

“Yes, Lieutenant, I know you’re just doing your job.”

“When was the last time you saw your wife?”

“This morning, when I left for work. She was going shopping. She loved to buy clothes. I couldn’t keep track of everything she bought.”

“What was she wearing when you last saw her?”

“A dress with very broad black and white stripes.”

Mr. Cosgrove, that’s the dress she bought after you left for work. You couldn’t possibly have seen it unless …”

The Puddle, by Joy Essien

13/11/2015

Ma Richmond looked out. The puddle in the road seemed to be bigger now, three days after the rain. Confused, the old woman frowned. Ahead, a young man with eyes glued to his phone began to cross from one side of the road to another. “His shoes are will be wet,” she thought idly, as the man stepped onto the puddle.

Like a scene from a movie, the young man suddenly sank into the puddle, as Ma Richmond’s watched with dilated eyes. She swallowed hard and began to shiver in shock. The puddle closed up as suddenly as it appeared.

Sweet Dreams, by Gordon Lawrie

13/11/2015

Amy awoke to knocking on her bedroom window. She’d slept poorly since Matt had left her; tonight’s gale-force winds made things worse.

Assuming that the tapping was merely the wind tapping tree branches against her window, Amy nevertheless rose, defiantly throwing back the curtains.

At first – nothing; then a dark shape emerged from the pitch-black night. She could only see its eyes. Then, with a deep unpleasant laugh, it transformed into Matt.

“Let me in, Amy, please,” said Mark. Entranced, she opened the window.

Next morning Amy’s body was found in bed; every organ had been sucked from her body.

A Wolf Who Couldn't Whistle, by Bobby Warner

11/11/2015

Bristles the Wolf was very lonely. He simply couldn't get a date. The other male wolves approached comely females wolves, howled, then gave a woo-woo whistle, and the girls loved it.

Bristles could howl all right. He was the pack's champion howler. He just couldn't whistle.

One day he went to the fair. The other male wolves were winning prizes for their girl dates, but Bristles had to be satisfied winning a prize for himself. He did, and it changed everything.

He won a whistle, which he blew every time he howled. He got more dates than he could handle.

Argument, by Eric J Smith

7/11/2015

It sounded as if my two female colleagues were arguing in the hall.

“What a time I had last night—what a date!”

“I bet he was nothing like the person I was with.”

“No? We had the greatest time. We ate at that new restaurant—fabulous! Then we went to his place, watched a movie, and then you know. . .”

“That’s what I do every night. But this morning? My guy was gone, but the sex? I’ve never had it like that. And I couldn’t find my shoes or purse and had no idea where my car was.”

The Crow, by Bobby Warner

7/11/2015

It's November, and we had one frost, and we might get snow tonight. That crow is still out in the garden, perched on a fence post, looking like it's winking at me.

I told Mama about the crow, and she says to just ignore it. But I can't. It's there when I get up, when I go to school, when I come home, when I go to bed. It just keeps looking at me, and laughing, I think.

That hateful old crow! Why does it sit there and torment me? I am going to ask God to take it away.

Vacation, by Russell Conover

7/11/2015

“Oh, man. How will we ever decide on a vacation destination?”

“So many to choose from. And we both need this trip, since work’s been an adventure.”

“Well, we could go to Disney or a sports tournament.”

“Nah--too touristy. We need somewhere different. Somewhere almost no one’s been before.”

“No one? Sounds kinda dangerous.”

“C’mon--it’ll be fun!”

“So where do you have in mind? Some undiscovered tropical paradise, or unexplored mountainous cavern?”

“Too common. I want somewhere out of this world. Somewhere no one would ever find us.”

“You mean ... ”

“Yep. Bags packed for Pluto. We leave tomorrow!”

The Perfect Candidate, by Jane Reid

7/11/2015

The Party Committee had decided: None of the self-chosen candidates would do. Clearly it was up to the Committee to pick someone who could defeat the Other Party. It must, Committee members agreed, be someone with a faultless past – no misdeeds large or small, no overstated resume, no sex scandals, no mishandled funds or misappropriated taxes.

It was the largest challenge the Committee had ever faced. A search group looked ain high places and low, in cities and hamlets. Finally they presented one who might do – but . . .

Committee members protested, “He’s not a member of Our Party.”

That's Not How It Happened At All, by Jo Oldani-Osborne

6/11/2015

“You went to a slip lecture? Speak up dear –“

“No, Auntie, a hip fracture. Tibia.”

“A lecture in Libya? “

“No, Auntie, I’m at Cedar Sinai”

“You were investigating the Russian Plane? Speak up!”

“Auntie, listen carefully, I need you to get in contact with a special physician.”

“Okay, dear, I’m turning up the volume. Darling, Your Uncle Frank wants to know what you were doing lecturing in Libya in a slip on the way to the Sinai.”

“No, Auntie, put him on the phone –Uncle Frank I need to get Dr. Who.”

“What, Sweetheart?. Dr. Whom?”

The Panel, 2016, by Emma Baird

6/11/2015

In 2016, a new law was brought in. its jurisdiction was world-wide, but sneakily-worded legislation meant this was not clear.

It boiled down to: Every single comment you make on social media will be analysed by The Panel.

Who the f**k were the panel, wondered those who had noticed the sneaky legislation.

A booming voice: We decide if you are a threat. We know this because social media demonstrates your views perfectly and consistently at all times, and we work out your level of risk to national security.

[And taste.]

Watch out…

Widow's Walk, by Bobby Warner

6/11/2015

Some evenings you can see her slender form pacing to and fro up there on the Widow's Walk, and staring anxiously out to sea. She often pauses to wipe away a tear from her eye, for she has been recently told that her husband's ship was sunk earlier by Union forces off the Carolina coast.

Then she spies the tall sails, just on the twilight horizon. She jumps for joy, waving her arms, for it is his ship, she discovers as it draws nearer, and he is returning safely on the evening tide . . . back in the year 1863.

Romantic Fireworks, by Gordon Lawrie

6/11/2015

“Hi there.”

“Hi. Weren’t you here last year?”

“Must have been someone that looked just like me. My name’s Roman.”

“Mine’s Catherine. Roman? That Polish?”

“Chinese, actually. Not long arrived in the country.”

“Me too. Look, could you give me a little breathing space? I’m feeling rather pinned to the wall here.”

“Oh sorry. Thoughtless of me.”

“Not your fault. This stranger came by, we started talking, then suddenly he was off like a rocket.”

“How rude.”

“Unlike you – you seem to have some sparkle. Have you got a light by any chance?”

“Sorry, I’m trying to give up smoking.”

By Amy Friedman

4/11/2015

Jana’s head dropped to her hands. “Oh brrrother,” she groaned.
Phil looked up. “What is it?”
“All these bloody acronyms!” she wailed. “They’re driving me crazy.”
Phil walked around the partner’s desk to where Jana sat, and gently rubbed her neck.
“That bad, huh?” he said.
Jana sat up straight. “Get this: LLETZ. LEEP. OCP. CIN. LSIL. HSIL – all that just on Page 2,” she said.
“That is a lot,” he said.
“Yeah,” she said. “I’m afraid to read any further.”
“What’s this topic?” he asked, hands at Jana’s temples, thumbs pressing gently..
“HPV.”
“Another acronym?”
“No escape,” she said.

By Amy Friedman

4/11/2015

Alexy reviewed his garb with a gimlet eye.

Hands clad in white kid peeked from snowy cuffs. Iridescent purple lapels framed a lace jabot. Hair was freshly green, with dazzling white wings. His eyes were rimmed with khol and a hint of mascara. Grabbing the small white jar, he removed one pristine glove, unscrewed the lid, and sponged white greasepaint on his face.

“C’mon Alexy, we’re gonna be late!” Sherry yelled. Her heels click-click-clicked into the loo. Alexy continued to dab the white, rendering him mirror visible.
“Is this a joke?” she said.

“No, this is The Joker,” he smiled.

The Dragon, by V. Karen McMahon

2/11/2015

“Didja’ see that, Henry? Didja’ see it that time?”

“See what?”

“The dragon just flew overhead, Henry. I seen it again.”

“You saw.”

“What?”

“You SAW it. Actually, you didn’t see anything, but if you had SEEN it, you SAW it, not SEEN it.”

“Dammit Henry, some day I’m gonna’ beat the daylights out of you.”

“You’d have to catch me first,” Henry says as he sprints across the field, his voice trailing off.

“Besides, that’s a stupid thing to say. There’s no daylight in me; it’s dark in there. And there ain’t no such thing as dragons.”

Late To The Ball, by Jo Oldani-Osborne

1/11/2015

Alexy wiped down the bar waiting for dark. He was surprised when the pale beauty in white swirled in with a flourish. She had startled him as much as the last rays of sunlight.

He was enchanted.

It hurt.

“Ahm a bit parched,” Sweet Sherry whispered huskily as she viewed the Blood Bank menu.

“A tasting-- You ‘vish?” Alexy stuttered as he awkwardly set out the warming snifters. “Dis! ‘Vee have a ’72 Italian --“

Sherry took his pale hand raising it to her red lips,

“No, Lover –“ she said. He felt the thrall.

“You’re more my type.”

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