Blog Archives

Redundancy, by Pamela Kennedy

24/11/2023

More traffic! Honk, beep, and an expletive hurled out here and there are joyful parts of commuting. I consider it my non-paying second job. Naturally, I'm envious of those who work from home. I know the grass is greener on their side.

In my younger years, I was led to believe that I was entering a highly respected, noble profession, one whose presence would make a world of difference to a suffering individual.

And now I wonder will AI replace my caring words and smiles? Will nurses become relics of a society who once appreciated that human touch?

Baking with Grannie, by Tom Baldwin

24/11/2023

‘Thanks for looking after Cindy for a couple of hours, Mum.’

‘It’ll be a pleasure, Julie.’

‘Bye, darling. Be good for Grannie, and I’ll be back soon.’

‘OK, Mummy.’

‘Now, what shall we do today, Cindy?’

‘Can we bake a cake with chocolate buttons on top?’

‘Of course we can. We’ll start with the flour and, and... I’m sorry, pet, but Grannie’s not feeling very well. I’ll just go and sit down for a minute.’

‘Are you asleep, Grannie? Wake up, Grannie, please wake up. I’m frightened, Grannie. Where’s Mummy? MUMMY!’

The Plenary, by Ian Willey

24/11/2023

When the keynote speaker stepped to the podium a hush fell over the auditorium because we knew this guy was good. He leaned towards the mike and said “This is a sentence.” That’s the next thing he said, too: “This is a sentence,” over and over. For his entire 45-minute lecture that’s all he said, but each time he spoke it was different from every other time: a difference in inflection, volume, or timing. It was like John Coltrane playing the two bars in My Favorite Things. We were enraptured. When he finished everyone applauded, and there were no questions.

Buyer's Remorse, by Bill Cox

24/11/2023

In 2024, a well-financed expedition comprehensively mapped the depths of Loch Ness and found nothing – no monster, no dinosaurs, nothing. Tourism to the area collapsed, livelihoods disappeared. In desperation, Drumnadrochit Town Council hired a renegade North Korean scientist. ‘Create a monster for us’, they told him, ‘so that we can bring jobs and tourist dollars back to our town.’

The scientist was a genius in the field of genetic manipulation, but had little knowledge of culture.

Which explains why Godzilla now stands above the ruins of Drumnadrochit, eager to cut a swathe of destruction across the Highlands of Scotland.

‘…What you sow’, by John Cooper

24/11/2023

Malice was not clever. He’d known that much since he was very young. His Da had always called him “Thicko”, even in front of his friends.

“Oi Thicko! What do you call all this mess?”

“Oi Thicko! Why you loafing around again?”

“Oi Thicko! You are a useless waste of space?”

As he grew older Malice found it easier to live down to this view of himself. After all if even his Da thought he was stupid who was he to think otherwise.

So as he nailed down the coffin lid he really didn’t know if things would change.

Cheater's Prayer, by Brian Taylor

24/11/2023

He was with his lover at the motel. While she undressed, he sat on the bed. He had an awful thought: what if he somehow died tonight? His wife would know.

Despite everything, he didn't want to hurt her. He silently prayed the impossible.

Sometime later, after lovemaking, her husband broke through the door. Yelling ensued. The husband shot them both.

Before dying, he remembered his prayer.

Around this time, his wife had chest pains. She didn't want to bother him at work or call an ambulance. She lay on the couch. She never woke up.

His prayer was answered.

The Haggis Wars, by Gordon Lawrie

24/11/2023

In the run-up to St Andrew's Day.🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

By 2023, the notorious haggis wars had reached their peak. Ordinary residents cowered for safety in high-rise flats on the outskirts of every major Scottish city as haggis gangs fought pitched battles on the streets below.

Stakes were high. The gangs were competing for control of the whisky and Irn Bru drugs trades, and of trafficking of illegal migrant chorizos and spare ribs.

But following the previous Scottish First Minister’s shock assassination, his successor Florentina Fresh-Fruit was determined to clamp down on these out-of-control haggis thugs. She introduced mandatory life jail sentences for all haggis-related crimes.

And Scotland was saved.

Hope, the Last Resort, by Sankar Chatterjee

24/11/2023

(Image credit: Sinjinee Chatterjee)

It was the hottest summer in recorded history. After a long day’s work, Manisha, on her way back home, stopped at the riverbank. A modern bridge now connects two ancient cities, but old fashioned boats still ferried passengers. Suddenly, a floating black cloud covered the setting sun.

Recently a longstanding regional conflict resurfaced in another corner of this continent, with the possibility of becoming international. For more than seven decades, our humanity avoided a global warfare. Manisha thought of the scene an omen for a looming catastrophe.

But the emanating golden rays of hidden sun lifted her spirit, offering hope.

Scarlet Duet, by Ruby Lyn Norada

24/11/2023

Editor's Choice

In the amber embrace of autumn, Marty treaded softly through the woods, chasing the vibrant hues of fall.

As he approached his car, a burst of scarlet startled him--a Northern cardinal, a striking red against the golden canvas, perched atop his vehicle.

With bated breath, he raised his camera, fingers trembling.

A soft flutter of wings announced another arrival. A second cardinal, pale brown, joined the scene.

Marty clicked furiously, capturing the moment. The crisp leaves beneath his feet rustled, and the duo disappeared.

Exhilarated, he kept walking, framing the magical encounter in the fleeting gallery of autumn.

A Voice from the Past, by Luke Miller

24/11/2023

In the dark, cold winter, I stayed warm by recalling the sound of her laugh. I comforted myself with memories of nights spent drinking much, laughing hard and sleeping little. In the past she would remain young forever. I’d never know her shortcomings; she’d never be exposed to mine. In the past she could remain perfect, not to be marred by reality.
Her memory consoled me as the wind howled outside the pub. I downed my pint and ordered another.
“Nate,” I heard from behind me, in a voice once belonging to the past.

Paradise Lost, by Sue Clayton

24/11/2023

Trees flourish, boughs standing tall and strong, garbed in lush green leaves. Plants and flowers seduce birds and insects from all corners of paradise to drink nectar. An apple tree stoops with abundant fruit.

I pick the ripest one and offer it to him. I’ve already taken a small bite.

“I cannot. It is forbidden fruit.”

“But I have tasted of it.”

His teeth sink deep into crisp, red skin.

The serpent slithers furtively on his belly, fangs dripping with glee, as he celebrates the demise of paradise and the creation of the battle between good and evil.

Cold Hands, by Mimi Grouse

24/11/2023

"Audrey's Antique Books" was always the last shop on the street to close.
Every night since she'd acquired a box of valuable tomes in Latin, Audrey had observed a gaunt figure detach itself from the shadows and follow her to the station where it vanished in the crowd.
After a while, she'd had enough. Lingering in front of boutique windows, she waited.
Dragging footsteps stopped behind her. Staring at her plate-glass reflection, Audrey was startled to see she was alone.
Cold hands gripped her throat.

CCTV recordings and the Coroner's report confirmed that she'd died of a heart attack.

I Get It Now, by Alyce Clark

24/11/2023

I guess I’m supposed to be an adult now. Forgive. Forget. That sort of thing. Let bygones be bygones.

But here’s the thing: I don’t want to… and probably won’t.

Dexter (haven’t called him Dad in years), shows up at my door. Expecting what, I don’t know. He doesn’t get past the foyer.

Childhood memories prevail. Put-down, neglected, being told I’d amount to nothing. Abandoned. My life and career are finally taking off. And here he comes- the proud father.

Back then, I couldn’t understand how it could be so easy to let go of someone… I get it now.

What Was In That Coffee? by Mary K. Curran

24/11/2023

She sips cappuccino at Queequeg's Coffee Hut.
"Place is packed today," says man in Freadom baseball cap holding espresso and lap top. "May I share your table?"
"Sure," she replies.
"I'm writing a novel."
"That's nice."
"What do you do?"
"Read, write, run, feed feral cats…"
"A writer?"
"I submit flash fiction online."
"Published?"
"Yeah."
"I'd say you're a writer."
"Do 100-word stories make me one?"
"Absolutely. Got a link to this site you write for?"
Over lunch they chat, laugh, get to know each other.
On Friday she is blown away by his 'Café Conversations with My Future Wife.'

Happy Holidays, by Phyllis Souza

24/11/2023

During holiday gatherings, it's common for people to say, "Happy Holiday." The dining room table usually features a silver platter with a crispy and delicious turkey stuffed with sage dressing as the centerpiece. Nationwide, the host raises a glass of champagne and offers a toast.
I am a large, strong, and good-looking turkey. I have a friend, a beautiful young hen. “Why do people eat us during the holidays?" she asked.
I extended my angelic wings and responded, "It's just a human thing."
Suddenly, we both understood why birds soar high above the earth.

I Only Am Escaped Alone to Tell Thee, by Tony Covatta

24/11/2023

St. Brendan’s primary school reunion, many attending.

“Leo coming?”

“Someone says he just might.”

From NYC for this? Doubtful. Leo, the television star? How had that happened? Only one memorable school event involved quiet Leo--and Sister Cunegunda:

“Next, catechism—Leo, what did you say?”

“Nothin’.”

“Leo, you cursed.”

“Did not.”

“Apologize right now.”

“No.”

“Admit, confess.”

Leo, eyes closed, head down.

“Class, let’s pray together for wicked Leo’s forgiveness. ‘Our Father. . .’ ”

All prayed aloud for Leo, save one, whose silent prayer sought Leo’s escape. That prayer was answered. If only he had included himself in it.

The Name Game, by Christa Loughrey

24/11/2023

Tony’s business often took him away for long periods, so Mary discretely took lovers – but only ever men named Tony. She didn’t dare risk calling out the wrong name in bed on those precious nights when Tony was home.

Sadly, Tony was killed in an accident. His funeral was well attended, for he had been popular.

‘Who’s that striking brunette over there?’ queried someone.
‘That? Oh, that’s Tony’s PA. They worked very closely together.’
‘She looks foreign’.
‘Yes. Her name’s Mariusia or something. But Tony couldn’t pronounce it, I guess, because he always called her Mary.’

Something's in Her Eye, by G. Lynn Brown

24/11/2023

She smiled, staring at his selfie. The one of him beside the fountain in the park, wearing his lopsided smile and that sweater that brought out his eyes so well.

She touched the phone screen, tracing his outline with her finger, wishing she was there, or he was here, but either way, that they were together, and she could run her fingers through his hair, feel the warmth from his crooked grin.

Suddenly, his image grew blurry and her eyes burned with the fear of how strongly she felt about him, frightened he didn't feel the same, terrified he did.

The Power of the Portrait, by Paul A. Freeman

24/11/2023

No family photos adorned my tiny living-room walls. Just a framed portrait of President Ng Wik, glowering down as we ate our meagre meals or watched state-controlled television.

One night, antiquated wiring caused a domestic fire. Through the smoke I carried my semi-conscious wife and petrified children to safety.

The area commissar arrested me for allowing our supreme leader’s portrait to burn.

“This’ll reflect badly on you, too,” I warned. “Why not photograph me holding another portrait of Ng Wik and say I braved the flames to save it?”

The commissar considered. “Perhaps we could both appear in the photograph.”

Plying the Trade, by Cheryl Dahlstrand

24/11/2023

Rhonda’s uncle was an art dealer in New York.

She knew he was highly regarded and only sold to wealthy collectors.

He employed selectivity regarding his patrons: truly great modern artists made available to billionaires. However, the work had been intense, and he contemplated retirement.

“Just yesterday,” he confided, “I sold a Basquiat, a Mondrian, and a Pollack.”

Rhonda’s eyes widened. “How do you do it?”

“My transactions are always confidential as my clients wish to guard their privacy.”

“Cash only deals,” he added.

“Why, in the last month alone, of the fifty works of art featured, I sold sixty-five.”

What Could It Be? by Brian Mackinney

24/11/2023

Mary was comfortable in her reclining chair as she reflected on her 79 years and how wonderful they had been from joyous childhood to loving grandmothering and then the phone rang.

The surgery called to arrange for her annual check up which was a surprise as she had never had one before. After they had been completed the results showed that she needed more tests and scans followed by hurriedly arranged tests and more scans as there might be something there that might become serious.

The reclining chair became less comfortable as Mary wondered what the next test could reveal.

Every Face Tells a Story, by Krystyna Fedosejevs

24/11/2023

Your idea of holidays is to stare at replicas of ancients?” she asked.

“What else is as resourceful?” he asked. “Beaches are boring.”

They shuffled about the museum like penguins. She, selective as to what she would read fully. He, reading every word of everything.

Entering the next room, she glanced back. He was trailing far behind, pointing his camera in various yoga poses.

Near closing time she slid outdoors, but where was he?

A search was initiated with the loiterer being found in a dimly lit room.

“Isn’t that…?” he mumbled, aiming his camera.

The Roman goddess stood unfazed.

American Happiness, by N. Comly

24/11/2023

A·mer·i·can Hap·pi·ness
proper noun

A disingenuous form of contentment common among American citizens.

“She smiles at the McDonald’s crumbs in their minivan, the boss who only knows how to scream, the husband who’s actively accepting applications from any woman younger, blonder, and with fewer responsibilities, the neighbors who threatened to call the cops if her kids kept kicking their soccer ball into their shared brown-tinged, decaying fence, then cries alone, the epitome of American happiness”

The Lucky Man, by Sherri Bale

24/11/2023

Years in and out of treatment. Clean months here and there. Inevitably he slips. Slides. Crashes.

Then a long stretch. He attends family events, sees his brother married, the birth of his niece. But then another slip. He lives rough, existing on cigarettes, candy, Coca-Cola.

Resurfacing, he admits Emergency Medical Services brought him back twice.

“I’m one of the lucky ones”. This time he is determined to quit. He has started painting again. It is a new year, a new life. Time to celebrate. L’chaim.

A phone rings at 3 am.
Even the lucky man runs out of luck eventually.

Late Summer Ghost, by Paula Cappa

24/11/2023

As I walked the deserted beach, a white leather wheelchair rolled in from the waves. Not a swimmer, I could save no one. Not even my mom with her failing heart, who used to bring me garden blooms she carried pouched in her Alice-blue apron.

Muttering thunder struck. A body surfaced the water, wrinkled like old parchment. Helpless, I screamed, tasting a sudden burn of red radishes in my mouth, recalling a memory of my mother and me guzzling water from the backyard hose.

Beneath the mackerel sky, among uneven waves, my dead mother broke through, face sun-bright, offering hydrangeas.

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