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Parasomnia, by Swapan K Banerjee

23/4/2021

He’s pounding the pavement late night incognito. A Street dog espied him and showed him around.

So much had changed since he left. As he paused by the pond—his childhood friend—he noticed a shadowy figure stepping out of an apartment door closeby. The lady, her eyelids drooping, went past him as if he didn’t exist, talking to herself: “Just now I’d a dream of my long-lost friend waiting outside our door. Where’s he?”

As she’s walking back home muttering under her breath, he felt the urge to hold her tight. But oddly, he could neither move nor speak.

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Form of Fear, by Padmini Krishnan

23/4/2021

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Anna held a glass of cold milk, musing. It was her third abortion; she had to be more careful. She heard a loud squeak and jumped back, screaming. A house lizard leaned on the kitchen cabinet, its tail firmly balanced while its face and body were suspended in the air. The reptile jumped on her. Muttering incoherent words, Anna ran into her bedroom, slamming the door. She laughed softly to herself and turned back to find the lizard in a similar position, eyeing her from the bedroom window. Then the reptile bared its mouth to reveal a baby tooth.

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The Widow's Walk, by Pamela Kennedy

23/4/2021

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Elsa walked along the boardwalk and paused. She was held captive by the sight of the massive expanse of blue and the rhythmic sound of the waves.

As beautiful and alluring as the sea looks, she was a deadly Siren. How many adventurers, sailors and fishermen would it take to satisfy her lust for men? Calm and tranquil one moment, tempestuous the next, she never showed mercy when taking all those who could not overcome her fury.

Turning her back to the sea, Elsa silently lamented, “You horrible harlot, you only coveted him, but I truly loved him."

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Greetings from a Stranger, by Yola M. Caecenary

23/4/2021

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It was dusk when I heard someone greeted me. I was walking alone and wasn’t from the neighbourhood thus couldn’t think of anyone who I might know. The voice was crisp but friendly.

Nobody was nearby, accordingly the greeting was for me.

I turned to the source of the voice and found a woman smiling at me. Smiling is indeed contagious hence I smiled back at her, by all means, couldn’t be seen since the era of masks. I nodded politely, greeted her, and went on walking.

“Hey,” I talked to myself, “aren’t you glad that you’re a human being?”

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Watching The Rain, by Mary Wallace

23/4/2021

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Guy was meant to be her protector, the rock who would always be there. What was she meant to do now?

The rain had started at the graveside, as if it knew Sarah no longer had the strength for tears. It had continued all morning, drowning out words of consolation from friends and family.

Alone finally, she retrieved her husband’s jacket from the hall closet, losing herself in its size and the familiarity of his scent. Sarah pulled the jacket tighter.

Silently, she watched the rain.

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Ain't That the truth? by Sue Clayton

23/4/2021

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Farmer Mort loved his dog. Can’t remember the mutt’s name…let’s call him Jemmy.

Jemmy was his master’s shadow, always rode shotgun and was the best mouser around, clearing hay sheds of the pesky varmints…until he got himself bit by a brown snake.

“Cost damn near three grand, Farmer Mort moaned, but willing to fork out for anti-venom plus a spell at the vet until the day Jemmy was allowed home, raring to get back mousing.

Next day the mutt’s stone dead, skittled by a farm truck on the dirt road.

“Life’s a bitch,” lamented Farmer Mort.

Ain’t that the truth?

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Thingamajigs and Whatchamacallits, by Sandra James

23/4/2021

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‘This is ridiculous,’ glared His Lordship, waving his phone in the air. ‘I listed a thingamajig online and this bloke is offering less than half price!’

‘Didn’t you offer half price last week when you wanted that whatchamacallit?’

‘That’s different!’

‘Why?’

‘Because… because… because that was me.’

‘Oh.’

‘I’m going to delist it,’ he grumbled, and sulked for the rest of the day in his brown velvet armchair.

One week later.

‘Ripper! Someone’s listed that thingamabob I wanted. Too dear though. I’ll offer half what he’s asking.’

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Always Charge Your Time Machine Before Use, by Bill Cox

16/4/2021

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“Imagine it, we’re the first people to see these cave paintings in thirty thousand years!”

“It’s the discovery of a lifetime!”

“The paintings are amazing…buffalo, deer, bears…er, does that look like English writing to you?”

“Impossible! These paintings are prehistoric! The caves have been sealed off for millennia.”

“But it says…Kilroy was here!”

The archaeologists stared in bafflement at the writing. Twenty feet to their left, still in darkness, lay the remains of Joe Harris, amateur inventor, ignorer of low-battery warning lights and planet Earth’s first time-traveler.

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Long Distance Call, by Amy Carlisle

16/4/2021

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Last Thursday, I had to throw together a brochure for the local historical society. Browsing the Library of Congress website, I found a nifty high-resolution scan from a glass-plate negative from the 1890s; it featured a building that’s still standing on our town square. I downloaded the file, loaded it into Photoshop, and took a good look.

The storefront had a sign stating “Apple Computational Equipment” in flowing script.

Through the plate-glass window, you could barely make out a bald man in Victorian dress - talking on an iPhone 12.

I wonder what his reception was like?

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Machinations, by Bill Sells

16/4/2021

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What the matter? Machine rip you off?

Sorta. I put the right amount in and pressed F-4 for the candy bar and got a vegetable snack cracker instead. Then I put the right amount in this machine for a Mountain Do Me and got a caffeine-free lime spritzer. I mean, what the hell? Is it a plot? Hold on....

I think someone's trying to tell you something, bud. Where you going?

There's a machine in the bathroom for condoms. The way things are going it might dispense chap stick, and my lips are little dry.

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This Morning I Lost My Favorite Sock and I Knew The World Was Ending, by Andrei Șișman

16/4/2021

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I wake up to the sound of volcanoes and people screaming.

Outside, Kīlauea glows. The Goddess of Volcanoes is sitting at my breakfast table, drinking coffee as she makes the world burn.

I say: “I hate my life. Take it.” I rip at my shirt collar, thrust my naked breasts forward.

Pele blinks. She is so, so beautiful.

Anxiety mounts and I wonder: did I come on too strongly, too like a beggar? A murderer’s least satisfying victim is the one that wants to die, after all.

Pele sits up and kisses me. Her tongue, velvet lava, melts everything away.

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Melanie’s Outrage, by Peggy Gerber

16/4/2021

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Melanie didn’t mind the long drive to BosCo. Their prices on diapers and baby formula were unbeatable.

As she strolled into the store she gasped. It was as crowded as a NYC subway during rush hour. There was absolutely no social distancing even though the infection rate in her state, especially amongst young people, was still sky high.

When she arrived home she emailed customer service expressing her outrage. A week later she received this response, “ Dear Valued Customer: Here at BosCo we care about your health. Thanks for writing.”

Melanie slammed her computer shut and began to cough.

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Lucy, by Daniel Lind

16/4/2021

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Two bags wait by the door, heavy with expectations for your adventure.

Your voice is a tin can in foreign lands; your breath weighs as heavy as my aching heart. My young lady, conquering the world, decayed to a shadow, cast on a green wall.

“Don’t worry, Dad, the doctors are good,” feels empty, but I’m chained to my encouraging smile.

My heart cheers upon your return, but I can’t make sense of your words. The swagger in your steps is someone else’s; your sound leaves a bitter aftertaste. Dinner’s left cold. Bed untouched.

Where do you roam at night?

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The Same Box, by Don Tassone

16/4/2021

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He grew up poor and lived his life in obscurity.

He dreamed of being a king. In his dreams, he used his power to protect the weak and his wealth to feed the hungry. In his dreams, he cared for multitudes.

But in his real life, he cared for just a few. He made their hard lives a little easier. It was all he could do.

“There is an Italian proverb,” said the preacher at his funeral. “After the game, the king and the pawn go into the same box.”

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Life is Like a Box of Chocolates, by Sandra James

16/4/2021

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His ex-wife is perfect, according to mother-in-law.

Through gritted teeth I smile and don’t tell her what I know… the affairs, the drugs.

‘She still visits and always brings chocolates,’ says MIL, smugly.

I bring a box next time but they aren’t as big or tasty.

The coroner ruled ‘poisoning’. Hidden in chocolates.

Open and shut case. She’d told everyone at Bingo about her wonderful ex-DIL.

I know you’re nodding, thinking it was me. My little chocolate box almost trapped me but the amended will in ex-DIL’s favour sealed it.

Did I tell you we look very much alike?

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Job Perks, by Daniel Hybner

16/4/2021

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“I can get in there.”

“You can?”

“Please. That’s not even a challenge.”

“But won’t you get in trouble?”

“I literally have a key. How could I possibly get in trouble?”

“It just doesn’t seem right. It seems dishonest, doesn’t it?”

“Do you want it or not?”

“I mean, yeah, I do, but this isn’t how I imagined getting it.”

“Just say the word.”

He paused. They always pause.

“It would be nice, I guess.”

“Consider it done.”

Everyone knew they could come to me for the things they wanted but couldn’t get to. Being the janitor has its perks.

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Carousel, by Sue Clayton

16/4/2021

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“It’s vacant. We’re good to go,” the cry rings out.

They tussle to straddle the carousel’s best seats; excitement mounts as they anticipate the music.

The wind picks up apace; melodic notes sough as it propels the ride towards a gusting gyration.

The carousel owner folds the washing; smiles as she observes the fluttering exhilaration. They only ride when the wind blusters, spindly limbs barely able to cling on as they whirl around.

Their glee escalates, swelling the musical crescendo.

“Caw…cheep… squawk,” feathers tousled by the wind, the birds savour every rotation of the empty clothes hoist.

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The Protector, by Jennifer Duncan

16/4/2021

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Ranger was a rescue dog. Too energetic, noisy, and aggressive for his first owners, he had found his forever home with a lively family. Off-leash walks were Ranger's delight.

Sadly, one autumn the father became ill. The ambiguous diagnosis didn't look promising.

Friends and family encouraged, " He just needs to rest."

The mother knew better.

One fresh fall day, the family prepared for a walk. Ranger pranced, twirled excitedly.

"I think I'll stay home," the mother said quietly. She needed to find some strength.

Ranger paused, gazing at her.

Soon he was sitting close by her, the walk forgotten.

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Nothing Remarkable, by Wayne Dean-Richards

16/4/2021

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There was always a band on after the Bingo. That night it was a four-piece who wore fluorescent trousers. Played cover versions of the hits of the day. I was with my parents, who at the time seemed old to me. Though now I realise that they were still quite young. It was an ordinary Saturday night. Nothing remarkable happened. Nothing unusual even. Yet years later I find myself searching for anyone else who was there that night. As if there’s something significant that I missed. Something that needs to be noted. Something that should have been said but wasn’t.

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Unwanted Phone Call #2376, by Gordon Lawrie

16/4/2021

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The telephone rang.

"Hello?" I wasn't giving anything away.

"Hello," said a voice speaking in a foreign accent. "I'm calling about your recent car accident."

"Which one?" I asked. "The recent one, or the recent one?"

He hesitated, then clarified, "Your recent car accident."

"Ah!" I said. "You should have said so. Well, I was minding my own business when this pedestrian stepped in front of me unexpectedly. OK, so I might have had a few beers and been driving down the pavement, but – "

The phone went dead. It's simpler if they block me than if I block them.

13 Comments

The Letter, by Barney MacFarlane

16/4/2021

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A letter inside my father’s slipper. Hidden. From my mother? You're kidding? If you moved an ornament one inch, she would accuse: “Who moved that?”

But I found the letter and read its contents. It claimed the recipient – presumably my father – was “handsome and sweet”. The writer was keen for them to meet again. “Sooooon!!!!”

So, if I found it, my all-seeing, all knowing spy mother must have too.
Unlike her customary dispositon, she didn’t climb into a rage. So far as I knew, she never confronted him.

Yet his dinner was not always hot when he came home subsequently.

3 Comments

The Wait, by Krystyna Fedosejevs

16/4/2021

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Memory awakened his tongue with yesterday’s cranberry muffin. He fidgeted on a recliner, contemplating what his wife would bring next.

She left to hike solo, as she often did. On this autumn day, he could visualize ice rosettes forming, twirling, joining one another on the river, along the walking trail.

Why was she delayed? Their grownup children across town also knew not why.

A bulletin was issued: ‘Woman, early 70’s, last seen talking to a driver on her walk’.

Time ticked anxious minutes into months.

The man continued waiting, wondering if his cancer was the reason for her disappearance.

9 Comments

Looking for a Boyfriend, by Cindy Patrick

16/4/2021

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She decided she wanted a hunter for a boyfriend. Last time it was a cop. Her ruse failed, but its memory lasted. Sitting in the A&W every morning when the police had their coffee break. She’d swoon. Came up with a plan to call in a drunk driver, giving her own license plate. As we headed out listening to our hidden police scanner, soon we saw flashing lights behind us. Then we heard, “oh, it’s just the girls from the A&W”. They were on to us. Now we are lost on forestry roads. We have no hunting permit. Foiled again.

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The Rapt Audience, by Sivan Pillai

16/4/2021

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It’s four in the evening. Someone rings the doorbell. Abhi, my little grandson, rushes to open the door.

“It’s grandpa Tom,” he calls out. I do the usual thing.

Tom smiles, happy that he’ll have a rapt audience.

He tells me about his native village, his childhood friends, and his teachers. He laughs heartily, recounting his exploits at different stages of his life. He enumerates the changes that have taken place in our town. He praises my daughter-in-law for her unique way of preparing tea. He leaves at six.

“May I fetch your hearing aid now?” Abhi asks me.

7 Comments

Role Reversal, by Swapan K Banerjee

16/4/2021

8 Comments

An animal-advocate was on his way to a forest-resthouse when the rain came down by the bucketful. It grew steadily darker.

A truck menacingly appeared round the narrow mountain-bend. While making way, he slipped; fell into the void.

Several feet down, his woollen outerwear got caught in an oak tree. A while later, he sensed another presence: a leopard, few branches apart.

Below, the yawning abyss; the road above, way out of reach.

The leopard edged closer; placed its back beneath his body-of-slight-build so he could get astride it. Then it leapt straight up with his hands around its neck.

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<<Previous

Forward>>

Parasomnia, by Swapan K Banerjee

Form of Fear, by Padmini Krishnan

The Widow's Walk, by Pamela Kennedy

Greetings from a Stranger, by Yola M. Caecenary

Watching The Rain, by Mary Wallace

Ain't That the truth? by Sue Clayton

Thingamajigs and Whatchamacallits, by Sandra James

Always Charge Your Time Machine Before Use, by Bill Cox

Long Distance Call, by Amy Carlisle

Machinations, by Bill Sells

This Morning I Lost My Favorite Sock and I Knew The World Was Ending, by Andrei Șișman

Melanie’s Outrage, by Peggy Gerber

Lucy, by Daniel Lind

The Same Box, by Don Tassone

Life is Like a Box of Chocolates, by Sandra James

Job Perks, by Daniel Hybner

Carousel, by Sue Clayton

The Protector, by Jennifer Duncan

Nothing Remarkable, by Wayne Dean-Richards

Unwanted Phone Call #2376, by Gordon Lawrie

The Letter, by Barney MacFarlane

The Wait, by Krystyna Fedosejevs

Looking for a Boyfriend, by Cindy Patrick

The Rapt Audience, by Sivan Pillai

Role Reversal, by Swapan K Banerjee

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