Blog Posts

Kadeem, like a lot of boys his age, was interested in girls, played sports, and hung out with friends.

Kadeem was the only child of a single parent. He was simultaneously man of the home and the light of his mother's heart. Together, they were a happy family.

An excellent student, he dreamed of becoming a scientist and finding the cure for cancer so other children wouldn't have to grow up with one parent.

But the rapid pop, pop, pop sound from a car screeching past his home put the brakes on the dream.

The cure would have to wait.

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Harry's Malady, by Mark Tulin

17/5/2019

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Harry Wilson chugged up the hill to the office, stopping a few times to catch his breath. It was his initial therapy session, and he didn’t want to be late. Once he sat in the chair and began to talk, Dr. McElroy stopped him, “Harry, I can hear you panting. You’re not taking care of yourself.”

Those words startled Harry. She knew him for only five minutes, yet spoke the painful truth. Harry wasn’t taking care of his health. He’d minimized his malady for years, hoping that it would magically disappear.

Finally, someone cared enough about him to be honest.

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A Day in the Park, by Marjan Sierhuis

17/5/2019

Spring is finally in the air. While the morning sun warms the vast countryside, blue skies overhead provide the perfect backdrop for the setting below. I feast my eyes on cherry trees covered in pink and white blossoms. I drink in their exceptional beauty as a breeze gently caresses my face. I smile at couples who push their baby strollers along a winding park road. I delight in the laughter of children who giggle and play on a blanket of fluffy white petals. I relish this place of peace, joy, and tranquility. I may stay just a little while longer.

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Cliff-Top Philosophy, by Gordon Lawrie

17/5/2019

They stood on the cliff-top, gazing out to sea.

"Why do we do this?" Romeo wondered.

"Admire the sea?" Juliet said. "Dunno, we were programmed long ago by humans. Seems rather pointless."

They cross-processed some historical detail about climate change and sea-levels rising before Juliet added, "I wonder – did they make more sea-water because they liked it?"

Her fellow robot shrugged. "Perhaps. Humans are stupid. My pet certainly was. I had to recycle him last week down at the human bank."

"How irritating. Will you get another?"

"Perhaps. It's the thought of having to train them. They just never learn."

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The Angel, by Arthur KC Chan

17/5/2019

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An angel landed in front of a tatted tomb, letting off a shrivelled oldster.

John Lee
April 8, 1945 – March 3, 1979
Murdered
Killer at large

“You’d been such a good friend to me. You saved me from alcohol, told me Bible. But I stole your money and, committed an unforgivable sin.” The withered knelt in tears. “I’m so sorry.”

The stone echoed the torture of the bad conscience.

Moments later the guilty soul turned to the winged, “I’m ready. Take me to hell.”

“The Lord weighs the heart,” the angel smiled tenderly. “But don’t you recognise me, my friend?”

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The Red Hood, by Tate Christie

17/5/2019

She strides beneath tall trees, red cloak riding behind. Twigs snap. She stops. Head sweeps left, right. Tucks escaping tresses back into the voluminous hood. Carries on.

The wolf pads behind. Four legs silent in soft debris.

She reaches the cottage. Puts a hand on the door. Wolf pounces. The stalking hunter pulls the trigger. Wolf sprawls at her feet.

Hunter swaggers from cover. Pumps the second shell. Looks at his prize expectantly.

She drops him. Puts a bullet between his surprised eyes.

Wolf rises on two legs. “You’re bait next time, Red,” he says, brushing leaves from his fur.

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Blind Faith, by Doug Bartlett

17/5/2019

The house was completely engulfed in fire. Flames bounded everywhere with thick, black smoke curling upwards into the dark sky. The young boy was trapped in his upstairs bedroom. He leaned out of the window as time was running out. The house would soon come crashing down, taking the boy’s life with it.

His father was standing in the yard below with outstretched arms. He yelled, “Jump, son, jump. I’ll catch you!” His son nervously cried out, “I can’t see you!” The father responded, “But I can see you!”… and that made all the difference.

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Bakery Hill Circus, by Sir Troy Anthony Platt

17/5/2019

Walking past the white circus tent at Bakery Hill. I decided to take a look at the acrobats practicing their act. Inside by the door I sat on the chair and looked up at the acrobats. They were swinging side to side. I always wanted to join the circus. I liked to work with the horses. The acrobats finished their practice and I was drawn to the main arena. A young child dressed in a cowboy hat started to practice his whip tricks. He was really good and he wave to me.

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Lord of Britanburg, by Bretagne

14/5/2019

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He woke up in a daze. His long, dirty hair covered his eyes. He looked around the unfamiliar surroundings. As he rose to his feet he noticed he was holding his axe. Confused, he moved the hair from his eyes. His hand was covered in blood. He was bleeding. “You fought a brave fight” a voice echoed from behind. “Where am I? Who are you?!” the wounded man asked as he turned to face the voice. “Ah, that is of no concern but I do know who you are. Lord Carsten of Britanburg… welcome to Valhalla.”

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Mom Didn't Always Know Best, by Kim Favors

13/5/2019

Before: There’s nothing wrong with you.
After: Too bad you got sick. Now you won’t have a perfect attendance record.

Before: Don’t expect to dress like other kids, do things like other kids or be like other kids. You’re not like other kids. You’re different.
After: You look like a prostitute.

Before: Don’t take those courses. They’re for losers. You’re judged by the company you keep.
After: You need to take a typing class so you’ll have something to fall back on.

Before: I won’t see a therapist with you.
After: You had a wonderful childhood. What’s wrong with you?

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The Island, by Julie Achilles

12/5/2019

I had been to the Island before and knew I had to return, ease my mind, repair myself.

I don't know what is was about being there as opposed to anywhere else on earth, maybe the peace and tranquillity, the way the Aegean sea's shallow waters meant I could stand alone in what seemed the midst of the ocean.

Whatever it was it worked, restoration. I turned one day, saw the mountain range, olive groves and golden sand and decided I could go on with life, I had to.

I stood on the ferry and waved goodbye- for now.

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Writing Lessons with St Francis de Sales, by Ella Craig

11/5/2019

‘I can’t do this, Frank.’

‘Is my task too hard for you?’

‘I am struggling to find words which comply with your instructions, and my writing is turning into pompous rubbish.’

‘How disappointing!’ Frank laughs in triumph.

‘Trying to avoid a common symbol is making it difficult to construct a plot for my story.’

‘Is that why your copy is so tortuous?’

‘This is your fault, and I want you to go.’

‘Your output may fall to nothing.’

‘I’ll risk it, now, sod off.’

‘Told you this wouldn’t work,’ Frank grins. ‘From now on, try trusting your own instincts.’

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The Bee in Waikiki, by Lisa Miller

10/5/2019

A boy swats at a buff-tailed bumblebee extending its tongue to a pink petal flower with bursts of honey-lemon in the middle. Pausing underneath, a ladybug, barely clinging to a chewed-on leaf. Furious, the Bee buzzes next to the boy’s ear chasing him from Lilly and Ben’s abundant Garden and beyond. The ladybug makes a beeline to a twig, waiting for his return. Reappearing, both navigate towards the fresh salt air (bad for bees). The ladybug lands on a lei (flower necklace) in Waikiki. The Bee struggles along the ocean shoreline… drifting.

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The Heiress, by Geraldine McCarthy

10/5/2019

Inside the funky, non-alcoholic bar, a hub-bub of voices: ‘Do smartphones wreck your love life?’ ‘Would you let your parents choose your date?’ A typical evening with the girls.

Courtney craved a Spicy Bloody Mary. Not that alcohol was the answer; or so they said on the happiness course (which would – wait for it - count towards her degree).

She had big dreams, Courtney did. Imagined herself an heiress, hob-nobbing with the elite. Didn’t just want to play a wife or girlfriend, wanted to be someone.
It would all come right in the end. When she’d find her biological mother.

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The Construction Site, by Tate Christie

10/5/2019

Hidden under cover of night when I checked in, the construction site across the road is now in full swing. I lie in my hotel bed, wide awake. Sunlight chiselling at the curtains’ edges. I check the clock. Frown. Get up. Drag open a curtain. I count twelve new dwellings approaching completion. Labourers call to one another, drown out a radio.

Twelve spacious nests, forty feet up, just one oak tree’s contribution to the vibrant and vociferous local rookery. Two dozen noisy birds guarantee customer requests for rooms with a treeless, car park view.

There’s more than one oak tree.

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On the Other Side, by Don Tassone

10/5/2019

“They’ll do it because they need us,” huffed Ed Mains, CEO of GreenUp, the largest lawn care products company in the world.

Mains was right. He’d gotten every company he acquired over the past decade for a song because they were all in trouble and selling to GreenUp looked like a save.

But Mains knew he was pushing his luck. GreenUp’s market share was just shy of 50 percent, and regulators were watching closely.

But he didn't care—until the government broke up his company and charged Mains with anti-competitive monopolization. Now he’s in charge of the prison garden.

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Tomorrow We Will Survive, by Bart Elbey

10/5/2019

In the hushed crossover between night and day, I find the waif in the dank kitchen. Long, lank hair pasted across a tiny acorn head, her brittle shell bowing over the crate which holds the last of our crumbs.

‘What are you doing?’

Startled she turns holding the clump of stale bread, her sunken cheeks smeared with sickly shadow.

‘Hungry.’

I hold the gaze of hollow eyes, empty of soul.

‘Take it.’

A familiar scent ignites the air as she brushes past, memory of her mother.

Tomorrow we will forage again. Tomorrow we will survive.

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Trapped in Guilt, by Gordon Lawrie

10/5/2019

It happened whenever a child came into his shoe-repair and key-cutting shop. Usually they came with parents, but this little local girl had visited frequently with her unsuspecting mother and had come alone for the first time.

The girl was there to choose a plastic key fob. Ten pence. He guessed she was around six.

Her presence brought bad memories flooding back, of computer images, of a jail sentence from hell, and of attempts to rehabilitate him. He so wanted to be cured, but could never be sure.

Trapped in guilt, he looked away.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

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Light and Darkness, by Sankar Chatterjee

10/5/2019

Looking intently on his computer-screen at the recently-released photograph of a black hole in a distant galaxy, Prof. Guy Lafon, a brilliant theoretical-physicist at the Sorbonne was stunned in awe. Light from periphery was forced by gravity to travel inside the central abyss of a globe. Professor felt a joyful shiver at this celestial co-existence of light and darkness.

Looking outside his office window, he noticed the blackening of blue sky. The Notre Dame’s spire was ablaze with golden flames, black smoke billowing underneath. A new shiver replaced the old one, witnessing nature’s display of destructive power, close to home.

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Dear Mom, by K.E.V. Trocmet

10/5/2019

Dear Mom --

It has been a rough month. My house burned down and is nothing but a pile of ash. The water and electricity to the barn are still connected; I'm sleeping in the barn sharing an old sofa with the barn-cats. The dilapidated outhouse is repaired and usable again. I got the barn-frig stocked with cold beer and frozen meals, and I use the barbecue pit as my stove. Everything else I will figure out as I go along.

Mom, don't come, there is no need for you to worry -- I'll survive until the house is rebuilt.

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The Rocking Chair, by Guy Fletcher

10/5/2019

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I was early for my weekly visit to the care home and a rocking chair on the porch looked enticing. As I swayed I observed nurses arriving for their shifts.

I wondered how many old-timers had resided in this chair remembering long-ago days when they were young and the world more innocent.

"About time you came to see me son," growled an old man with a stick.

"Sorry, I'm not your son," I replied in a timid tone as I left the seat.

"That's it, run away, you always did."

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Extra Cheese Whiz, by Mark Tulin

10/5/2019

“I’ll have mine with hot peppers and grilled onions,” I said to the guy at the cheesesteak joint.

“Cheese Whiz?”

“Extra, please.”

As I bit into my cheesesteak, I noticed a dark energy coming from two men in shiny suits.

It was a sunny day but I couldn’t enjoy it.

I nearly choked on the torpedo roll.

The two men had such a deadly aura that I could barely digest my cheesesteak with extra Cheese Whiz.

Their evil aura was like a gale that blew me backward, and it was all I could do to keep from losing my lunch.

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The Last Laugh, by Bex Gooding

10/5/2019

The King stared at his son in horror and clutched his chest, his heart beating rapidly.

‘Your cook should have known the difference between blueberries and belladonna.’ the Prince said. ‘I’ve been ingesting a little poison for months, I’ve acquired a tolerance, but not for you.’

‘Why?’ the King gasped through the pain.

’I want to be King and I hate you!’

The Prince finished his sautéed mushrooms and watched his father suffer a fatal heart attack.

Twenty-four hours later the Prince lapsed into a coma and died from mushroom poisoning.

The triumphant jester sat on the throne and laughed.

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They Call It Grace, Doug Bartlett

10/5/2019