Blog Archives

The Battered Woman, by Bobby Warner

31/12/2016

Tilly Thorne burst into Hank's Tavern and waved his arms. "Listen up, fellows," he said, shaking like a leaf. "There's a woman a-floating in Cain's Pond!"

They hustled out into the rainy night, got into cars and pickup trucks, and sped to the pond.

An elderly woman floated in the water, all beaten up and bloody.

"Somebody did that with a baseball bat or something similar and brought her here, 'case she's not from these parts," said Mart Danner. "I'll call the sheriff, then we can all go back and wait for him in the tavern. Next round's on me!"

Breakfast Greetings, by Russell Conover

31/12/2016

Yawning, Sean ambled into the kitchen. Then, his eyes shot up. His wife, Mary, was in front of the stove, wearing absolutely nothing.
“Hey, big boy,” she drawled. “I’m so ready for you to scramble my eggs, if you know what I mean.”
Eagerly, Sean started lifting his shirt over his head. However, Mary looked puzzled, even alarmed. “What are you doing?”
“But, you said ... and I thought ... ” Sean stuttered.
Mary handed him a frying pan. “Just helping you wake up,” she said firmly. “Now, about those eggs?”
Sean sighed. “I’ll never understand women,” he thought, turning on the stove.

New Year's Day In The Bedsit, by Ian Fletcher

31/12/2016

“Meow!”

Bloody cat.

What! 3 p.m.?

Aah!

Headache.

Toilet. Seeing the vomit on the rim, he remembers all.

Lunchtime pint with Max and Harry. He’d do the shopping later. But they’d continued boozing, ending up at a party to welcome in the New Year.

That sexy blonde! Mandy? Sandy? He’d chatted her up, but she’d gone home with Harry.

Bastard.

Oh well, he’ll make a cup of tea.

Damn, no milk.

Ow! The hangover. No aspirin.

Why hadn’t he gone shopping?

“Meow!” No catfood, naturally.

He goes back to bed, but can’t sleep with Felix scratching the mattress, meowing accusingly.

Judy, Judy, Judy, by Johann Lux

31/12/2016

General Wall escorted Dr. Judith Nowell down a long underground corridor at Area 51.

“He popped out of thin air and used a payphone to contact the Pentagon,” the general explained.

“It’s a male, humanoid,” Dr. Nowell balked.

“Yes and a sharp dresser,” the General grinned and opened the door to the room containing the extraterrestrial.

“Is this a joke?” Dr. Nowell snapped.

“He gave us the math that unifies the fields,” the general winked.

“Why does he look like Cary Grant wearing a tuxedo?" Dr. Nowell asked sarcastically.

The alien responded telepathically, “Doesn’t everyone want to be Cary Grant”?

Leaving, by Ann-Louise Truschel

31/12/2016

“Mother looked so tired,” she said with tears in her eyes. “She insisted on taking a cab back to the retirement village so she wouldn’t ruin our Christmas celebration. She doesn’t ever stay long; she gets so fatigued. I’m very worried about her.”

The cab pulled up in front of the retirement village, and the old lady inside yells, “Get in, Bertha. I thought I’d never get away from those bratty grandchildren of mine.”

“Step on it, Buster,” she tells the cabbie. “Get us to the Golden Oldies Bar before ‘two martinis for the price of one’ Happy Hour ends.”

Escape, by Russell Conover

30/12/2016

Zane was depressed. His job was tough, his marriage was rocky, and money was tight. To top off all that, the country was going through some turbulent times.

Closing his eyes, Zane imagined himself in his personal paradise: in a beach chair by the crashing waves, feeling the sun’s warm blanket, sipping an ice-cold drink, leaving the world’s troubles behind. If only he could be there now, but life’s busy nature prevented him from going.

With a smile, Zane opened his eyes again. He still had a lot on his plate. But his quick mental escape briefly cleared his mind.

Calendar, by Gordon Lawrie

30/12/2016

Here’s your Christmas present: a 2017 wall calendar. I hope you like it.

Each month features a photograph of a group of people. You won’t recognise most of them.

Interestingly, someone in each group will pass away that month. You can try and guess who it’ll be.

It’s not so surprising. January features residents in an old folks’ home, February’s patients in a cancer ward; March is a village group in Nepal, due an earthquake then. Get the idea? July’s family will be in a car crash. October’s obvious: a group of soldiers.

December is a nice photo of yourself.

Unto The Morrow, by Amy Friedman

30/12/2016

'Twas the night before New Year’s.
She cast a gimlet eye upon her table.
China and cutlery gleamed. Her ruby cloth shimmered. Water and wine glasses sparkled.
Delicate tapers burned with a steady flame.
Steam curled gently from fat tureens.
Platters overflowed with carved meats and fruits.
All was set.
“Ain’t the grub ready yet?” he said, crashing into the dining room.
“Ready, dear,” she smiled.
“Great,” he said, grabbing a turkey leg with a meaty hand. “I’m off to the pub. Don’t wait up.”
She had no intention of waiting. The portal had opened, and she was stepping through.

Bacon Is Hard To Beat, by Johann Lux

27/12/2016

Cindy was naked in the kitchen, singing at 5 AM, while cooking up a pancake breakfast. The aroma of fresh coffee got me out of bed.

"Happy Birthday, sweetheart," Cindy said and we lovingly embraced.

While sorting yesterdays mail, I opened a letter addressed to Cindy from Conrad, a man that lived at the end of our street.

Conrad wanted Cindy to know with his divorce finally finalized they could now run away to Canada as planned.

"I got better than Bacon for you," Cindy winked.

I smiled and handed her Conrad's letter.

Less Than Meets The Eye, by Marc Levy

26/12/2016

In the lingering interim between cola commercials, the dying man leaped from his chair and came down hard on two used but reconditioned feet. His position was clear and immutable. Then, he muted the volume. Next, in a single superb motion he pirouetted across the room and extended nimble fingers to nab a hunk of aged roast beef out of the chafing dish. Straight, no chaser. Gobble, gobble.

In a popular zero sum game, with the sum of all answers equaling zero, dying men come cheap, easy, and plentiful, no less than turkeys and cows. Baa, baa.

Bravo, sport.

Reading Can Be Good…, by Jennifer Loudon

24/12/2016

Alex jumped as the book reared to life. The room that was in shadows just a few seconds ago was now alive with light. Gleaming light had already flooded the tiny cottage as the two friends darted for the door.

"Hurry!" Nic yelled. He was out the door. The door slammed shut. Alex was trapped. Consumed by light, he was tossed into the yellowing pages.

"What?" Uttered Alex. He was in his house in the country side a minute ago and now he stood in an enormous football stadium. Never again would he be afraid of reading. This was great.

Turkey Trouble, by Russell Conover

24/12/2016

“NOOOO!! What happened to our turkey??”
“Uh-oh. Looks like the Jabberwock devoured it.”
“A twenty-pound bird? One creature? No way.”
“True. It must have had some help.”
“You don’t suppose it was the frumious Bandersnatch and the Jubjub bird?”
“Afraid so. Look at the footprints all around.”
“What are we going to do? The family’s coming tomorrow to feast.”
“We may need to create some new enemies for the poetic creatures.”
“How about a Zogfard and a Plutnix?”
“What the heck are THOSE?”
“No clue, but they’d better bring a replacement bird.”
“What a goofy way to spend the holidays.”

Father Knows Best, by Diane de Anda

23/12/2016

“You're too young to go to an R movie,” her father insisted.

“But Steve's 18, so I can get in with him,” the fifteen-year-old replied.

“You're too young to see an R movie is what I meant. Subject closed.” Her father turned and walked away.

She ran into her bedroom and locked the door.

She decided to make up another excuse when Steve called back; the truth was too humiliating, especially now.

Then she pulled the plastic stick out of her sweater pocket and stared at the little window in the center which was no longer clear.

And The Angel Came, by Gordon Lawrie

23/12/2016

And it came to pass on a Friday in the last year of Barack that a dark angel came down and said, Ye shall lose great musicians, experience terrible tragedies, endure shocking weather and vote like lemmings on speed.

And the good people of the Earth said, Ye lie! We are too sensible! The Earth is safe in our hands.

Suddenly there was a rumble in the dark skies. The Earth shook; an almighty thunderbolt killed all the people.

The dark angel laughed. He cried, Only joking! Too late, sadly – all around lay dead.

Thus was born Friday Flash Fiction.

Adoption, by Kathy Istace

23/12/2016

My nine year old son huddles in a shivering ball on the floor of the therapist's office. Dead eyes, unresponsive. All he would tell her was his birthday. That was enough. That was too much. His past is acid, burning everything it touches, leaving raw and spreading wounds in its wake. It takes many long minutes to get him to understand that I'm here, that he's safe, that it's time to go now. Much later, in the car, his little voice insists that he never, ever wants to tell anyone what happened to him. This is life after foster care.

Tick Tock, by Amy Friedman

21/12/2016

Slowly, without alerting his fellows, Perry started toward the rock in full sun, hoping against hope it would be warmer there. Anything was better than standing barefoot on the ice. For ages, he had hidden his affliction, but today it was unbearable. His feet burned something awful.

“Where ya going, Perry?” Buster asked. Dang. Busted. “Oh, nowhere, just ambling,” Perry said, hoping Buster wasn’t gonna be his usual overcurious self and want to come along.

This was just way too embarrassing. Some penguin I am, Perry sighed to himself as he inched forward. What kind of penguin gets cold feet?

Nature's Magic Trick In Broad Daylight, by Sankar Chatterjee

21/12/2016

While driving through the Rockies of Western Canada, I came upon a road-sign “Lake Moraine area” ahead. I exited to arrive at a glacier-derived body of calm blue water surrounded by mountains. Previously I emptied a water bottle, so I dipped it collecting a sample of water. Now water appeared absolutely colorless! Then it hit me. Melted glaciers throughout the ages brought along minerals as nanoparticles depositing them at the bottom. Collectively, they absorb all seven colors of the sunlight, only reflecting back the blue color, thus the appearance. I wondered “What a magic trick of nature in broad daylight?”

Cupid, by Preeti Singh

21/12/2016

It was late evening and my birthday dinner, we were having a nice time while watching our favourite TV show. In the between the commercial breaks we had our small talks sessions. My friend shared a video, she was narrating the story to me and told that in the story there is a small boy flying in the air with an arrow who makes people fall in love when they get struck by his arrow. Smiling back to the innocence, I said 'we call it Cupid' and she replied back with the same innocence 'oh wow, cupid is so stupid.'

Picture A Perfect Christmas, by Steve Lucas

20/12/2016

‘Mother or baby?’ the surgeon shouted at me for the second time.

There’d been five years, six miscarriages and one still born baby to get us to this point. Nobody seemed to know why this was happening.

‘Maybe it’s not meant to happen for us,’ my wife would say.

‘It’ll happen one day,’ I’d reply, ‘when the time is right.’

But now she’s unconscious in the operating theatre.

‘Save the mother,’ I said. We could always try again.

The following year we spent Christmas Eve holding our new baby.

‘How does it feel?’ asked the health visitor.

It felt right.

The Little Christmas Ball, by Amy Friedman

20/12/2016

Shimmy shivered in her little straw bed, trying to find a bit of warmth. “Glassy - are you here?” she whispered.

“Yes,” a whisper came back. Glassy had been near since Shimmy was born, and was near still. “I’m scared,” said Shimmy. “Just believe ... I do,” said Glassy.

Suddenly a bright light appeared. Cold shifted to warmth. Shimmy heard a friendly crackling sound, and then a hand reached for her.

“Glassy!” Shimmy gasped, frightened. “TREE!” Glassy whispered back. Shimmy watched Glassy sail to a perfect branch, then felt herself soar, landing gently next to Glassy.

“I believe,” Shimmy sighed.

A Vision of Division, by Steve Lucas

20/12/2016

Why didn’t she tell me? She’s always been secretive.
There were half-filled boxes and baby things everywhere. Alone in her bedroom, I re-opened the book and read a little more.
Her words echoed within me:
My heart replaced by a hanging bat with folded wings.
My head buried beneath a mountain obscured by clouds.
My house became a merry-go-round for infant ghosts.
I didn’t hear Victoria come up behind me.
‘Mother!’
‘So this is what it was like to lose-’

‘Of course not,’ she snapped, snatching her diary from my hands, ‘but this is what it was like in words.’

Pallet, by Eric Smith

20/12/2016

A bitter expanse of freshly plowed field for a winter crop stands ripped open as the farmer unhitches the massive blindered horses, their sweat steaming, rising. It’s time to return them to the barn for a meal they crave but cannot yet smell. Within minutes acres of dark brown furrows disappear under a descending white horde of seabirds, searching out newly exposed grubs and appearing as some huge pallet. Then an invisible hand and brush dabs as they flap and rise together. Within seconds, behind their great wing spans, they’ve blotted out the blue horizon above and beyond the field.

Not Another Christmas Carol, by Elizabeth Muster

20/12/2016

“Thlink.” The little bell froze mid-ring, and so did I. But not because the bank sign across the parking lot read 31 degrees.

“Chucky boy,” said the voice I loathed as Evan “Sneezer” Scrooge shoved a foil gum wrapper into the slot of the red metal bucket, swinging it into my hip.

“Merry Christmas, Sneezer.” I grumbled, inching my foot out to trip him, but stopping just as a lady in a designer jacket reached between us to drop a couple of quarters into the slot. “Merry Christmas!”

“Bah, humbug.” And he disappeared into the crowded produce section.

We Offer The Head Not The Whole Body, by Sankar Chatterjee

19/12/2016

"With friends Jackie and Richard, and my wife Shelley, I entered into the dimly-lit Malaysian restaurant, recently became popular for its exotic cuisines. On seating, I realized of not bringing my reading-glasses. The menu offered a sea-food dish starting with “Grouper….” but the rest appeared all blurred. As we conversed, our food arrived. Being seated at far side of the round table, I was served last. But “what is on the plate?” A big fish-head with still intact eyeballs!

I looked at the server bewildered. Smilingly, he said “We offer the head, not the whole body, a delicacy for us."

The Most Desperate Time Of The Year, by Conan D'Agostino

19/12/2016

He paced outside the betting shop as snow softly fell, rubbing his hands together, eyes flickering nervously from side to side. A quick look inside – miserably deserted; just horse-racing form hanging limply from the wall and glowing TV screens.

How had it come to this? Again?

Consumed with dread (and painful recollections), he pushed open the door and trudged up to the counter.

“Yes?” the cashier inquired from inside her glass cell. I can't...

Thoughts of bills, overdrafts and, on top of it all, Christmas forced out his reluctant words:

“Can I have an application form, please?”

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