Blog Posts

When a Dream Dies, by Sankar Chatterjee

2/12/2022

Syed, born and brought up on the streets of Cairo, Egypt, was a child football prodigy. Now the youngest player in current World Cup, he dreamed about the championship, changing his life’s course. In the final league-stage but scoreless must-win game, the coach introduced him for final minutes.

In dying moment, the left-winger’s floater sailed over gathered players. Syed flew like a bird and hammered the ball. Lying on grass, he saw the goalkeeper collecting his spherical dream from the net. Several minutes in extra time, the referee, reviewing AI-guided VAR, canceled the score.

Humanity again created its own dream-destroyer.

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Eye of the Storm, by Don Tassone

2/12/2022

4 Comments

Scanning news headlines, Dylan felt his chest tighten. Mass shootings, war, Covid surges, protests, violent crime, stagflation, extreme weather events. The bad news never stopped. For Dylan, the world had become a dizzying maelstrom.

Dylan closed his laptop and thought about his life. His grass needed cutting. His car needed new brakes. His wife seemed distant.

Dylan made an appointment with an auto repair shop, then went outside and mowed his lawn. That evening, he took his wife to dinner.

The next morning, Dylan was about to open his laptop. But instead, he closed his eyes and stilled his mind.

4 Comments

All the Time in the World, by Tony Covatta

2/12/2022

1 Comment

“Paul, Emily here.” Pleasant and composed as always. “I need a power of attorney for my mom, Agnes.”
“Sure. Why the POA?”
“Mom has terminal cancer. Not yet but very soon she’ll need heavy morphine. I’ll handle her affairs.”
We meet at Hospice. Agnes is sitting up, hair brushed, alert, as pleasant and composed as Emily. She signs the POA, we find witnesses. We chat, then: “Thanks, Paul, so very much. Goodbye!” Hand on my arm, no self-pity. As I leave, mother and daughter carry on, chatting amiably. They make the most of it.
All the time in the world.

1 Comment

Competition Time, by Gordon Lawrie

2/12/2022

2 Comments

It was an ingenious plan.

He’d set up a writing competition with no entry fee and a small prize for the winner. The competition would run for just two weeks. No point in getting greedy.

But all wasn’t as it seemed. Logging onto the submissions page exposed the writers’ computers to the Sanskrit trojan, which accessed their credit card details. Thereafter, each typed story character added a tiny sum onto any payments made: insufficient to be noticed, but cumulatively amounting to a fortune.

At midnight precisely, the contest began. In no time at all, the sums harvested started to soar.

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Game of Cards, by Phyllis Souza

2/12/2022

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Shuffle the cards.

Mix, scramble and flip one out.
Jack of Spades. Tall, dark, and handsome. Brings destruction.
Queen of Clubs orders the one-eyed Jack to leave her kingdom.
Another card tossed. Jack of Hearts. The one-eyed Spade’s counterpart.
“Both must go,” the Queen says.
King of Diamonds commands. “No! I need a full house.”
A compromise then, the Queen replies, “One Jack goes. One Jack stays.”
The Joker stands. “Game over.”

Shuffle the cards.

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Huff It Your Way, by Lee Hammerschmidt

2/12/2022

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“They’re moving Poe from the County jail to the Big House in the morning,” Dink Delmonico, head of the notorious Delmonico Crime Syndicate said. “Grub, you and Chub are gonna’ bust him out tonight.”
“How, Boss,” Grub asked. “There’s only two of us and at least a dozen guards.”
“With these,” Dink said, putting two pesticide spray cannisters on the table. “They’re filled with quick-acting knockout gas. One whiff and the guards will hit the floor like bags of horse manure. Just don’t spray Poe.”
“Right, Boss,” Chub said.
“Remember,” Dink said. “Go directly to jail, and don’t gas Poe.”

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Dirty Candy, by Mary Eastham

2/12/2022

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He carried rosary beads in his pocket. Trevor Toy. We all had street names. I remembered love. He didn't. So I spun the hard earth into a food medley of lollipop treats for him every night. I dropped to the pillow always hungry. Our last meal together was three shiny chocolate covered almonds dipped in fresh cream,
a hand dusting of petite gold stars shimmering bright. Dirty candy he called them because beauty like this, why would it present itself to him? That last night, he dropped me off at Prayer Hill Road, a girl running toward the headlights dancing.

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Friendships, by Jennifer Duncan

2/12/2022

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Amanda and Cheryl seemed like best friends. The met for coffee Wednesday mornings. They shared family news, discussed the topics of the day. They invited each other to family barbecues, went on holidays together. Yet the relationship felt shallow.

One day, Amanda's friend Karen made her yearly visit. They walked on the beach and shared their aspirations, fears, beliefs. They felt an at-home-ness that reflected their understanding of each other. When they said goodbye, they hugged and smiled. Amanda knew Karen would be thinking of her often. Their friendship was a happy background rhythm thrumming in sync with her life.

2 Comments

Me and My Therapist, by Jacqui Wiley

2/12/2022

1 Comment

Sitting staring at my feet, my head lowered, my therapist continued to try and get me to speak.

‘How are you feeling?’

My lips remained tight.

‘You’re in a safe place.’

Tighter!

‘Can you express your emotions at this minute?’

Teeth Clenched.

‘What is the issue that brought you here today?’

Hands entwined fiercely.

‘Can you explain the biggest challenge you face right now?’

Feet rigid side by side.

‘Is there someone in your life causing you problems?’

Jumping up, arms outstretched, my eyes staring into his very soul I screamed,

‘Yes! YOU! YOU!

He refused to make another appointment.

1 Comment

Lydia's Secret, by George C Glasser

2/12/2022

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From early childhood, Lydia knew she was different: She often caught glimpses of existing in parallel universes - dreamscapes of dissolving amorphic impressions. Over time, the experiences became more visceral evolving into fleeting physicalities that instantaneously dissipated after coming to fruition.

At times, Lydia slipped into a trance during conversations to find herself gazing through someone else's eyes and momentarily existing in one of her parallel realities. People would quip, “Where were you?” She knew that if she told the truth, they would think she was crazy, and her experience was best kept a secret.

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Thursday Exhaustion, by Janice Siderius

25/11/2022

5 Comments

Turkey roasting in the oven, check.

Potatoes boiling in the large pot, check.

Green salad prepared for Italian dressing, check.

Green beans in casserole ready for oven, check.

Pies (this year apple and pumpkin) ready to serve, check.

Time left for a quick shower, check.

Husband appropriately attired, check.

Dog secured in the kennel, check.

House as tidy as possible, check.

Whew.

Telephone rings. Who could that be?

“Hello. Yes, I understand. It is not your fault the flight was canceled. Don’t worry about it; we will see you at Christmas. Our love to all.”

(sigh)

5 Comments

The Explorer, by Eileen Tull

25/11/2022

2 Comments

After all I’d been through to find it, at the very last moment the medallion slipped through my fingers. The rubies encircling the diamond center glinted in the pockets of sunlight as the necklace descended, almost in slow motion. Down it fell, through the cracks and crevasses until it disappeared entirely. The whole journey wasted, an entire trek up the mountaintop, all my men dead. Years of searching. All of it for nothing. I couldn’t return empty-handed. I wouldn’t. Closing my eyes, I let go and through the cavern I fell too, into the dark abyss.

2 Comments

Corner Shop Parts, by Brian Mackinney

25/11/2022

5 Comments

In the good old days Jim made a good living selling car spares in his corner shop. There was a steady stream of real men who took great delight repairing their old bangers.

With the advent of diagnostic testing of the modern car and faults tweaked by computer Jim’s trade fell apart. It was while he was thinking of what sort of future his grandchildren would have that he dreamed of modernising his shop to sell body spares.

With the support of AI on YouTube and Tic Toc he was certain that real people would be queuing up for bits.

5 Comments

Shelf Life, by Tom Baldwin

25/11/2022

16 Comments

My Aunt Madge had devoted her life to academic study, research and her students; she had never married.

After her death I had the job of clearing the house, where I found a large, hand-written journal.

Madge had recorded the details of every sexual encounter in her long life, from losing her virginity onwards. Descriptions of each act — size, stamina and marks for performance were all meticulously logged in a scholarly hand. Most were one-nighters.

I took it home and showed it to an incredulous Cathy.

‘Naughty old Madge!’ she said. ‘How many entries are there?’

‘Just over three hundred.’

16 Comments

It’s Getting Better Every Day, by Alyce Clark

25/11/2022

14 Comments

Her first check in several weeks. It’s small, but will cover the bills this month.

She breathes a sigh of relief. Smiling, as she realizes there’s enough for a small turkey and a few side dishes. There’s so much to be grateful for…

She and her mother are together. They love and have each other. Their home smells like holidays.

She shuts off the radio, favoring the sound of Mother’s humming coming from the kitchen, as she tidies the house scattering a few modest decorations.

She’s hopeful and has no doubt that she is blessed. It’s getting better every day.

14 Comments

Losing Your Head for Love, by David Croll

25/11/2022

7 Comments

Mr. Gibson, the eight-grade science teacher, enthralled his students with tales of unusual mating rituals.

“Despite her pious demeanor, the female praying mantis is more like a femme fatale. She lures males with pheromones. The prospective mate engages in a courtship dance. If he is deemed worthy, they will mate. As the mating nears the end, the female will bite off his head”

“Eww!” the students exclaim.

“But that won’t stop the male. He will continue mating.”

The students giggle. Mr. Daniels smiles. “Laugh now,” he thinks to himself. “But one day you too will lose your head for love.”

7 Comments

Memory’s Surprise Visit, by Sankar Chatterjee

25/11/2022

4 Comments

Avijit Sen, a noted physician in Calcutta, finished watching a vintage crime thriller in city’s iconic Globe Theater. The smart detective was methodical solving the intense plot. Soon, Avijit began reminiscing about Deepak Bannerjee, his favorite investigator from teenage years.

But Deepak was a fictitious character living only in pages of a thin book. The author was mysterious Navinkumar (pseudonym), publishing every month a new story in exactly sixty-four pages, costing fifty paisa. Like contemporary Bond-films, different beautiful woman adorned each story, raising reader’s hormone level.

Avijit began to search old book stalls on Chourangi Road for any surviving copy.

4 Comments

After the Flood, by Bill Cox

25/11/2022

3 Comments

He was always so condescending, confident in his ‘superior’ intellect. A simple thing like the weather forecast was beneath his notice. Rain. Lots of rain. And we live beside the river. It basically runs past our back garden.

Alas, poor Eric slipped and fell while securing our back fence during the storm. He was last seen tumbling into the roaring waters.

What use intellect when faced with a river in spate? Well, that and perhaps a forceful shove when his back was turned.

Not so much ‘Après moi, le deluge’, dearest Eric. More like ‘Après le deluge, pas plus toi!’

3 Comments

A Quest Bestowed, by Richard Kirk

25/11/2022

15 Comments

His mission before him, he squared his shoulders and set his jaw firm. The fate of the household rested in his hands. Failure was not an option. There was no turning back.

He was going in.

Knees bent, arms outstretched, he took hold of the beast and began. Its solid mass revealed no secrets, gave no quarter. Yet he forged on, determined that he should succeed.

He would not be beaten.

As his fingers eventually closed around his prize his eyes flashed in triumph.

‘It’s okay!’ shouted Dad jubilantly, his arm reaching under the sofa cushions. ‘I’ve found the remote!’

15 Comments

Where Are You? by Brian Taylor

25/11/2022

4 Comments

When I first started talking to the friendly cashier at the convenience store, I thought, uh oh, you might be showing up. But you didn't.

When she and I got chummier, sharing personal things and being on a first name basis, I thought, now you'll come around. But no.

Then today, when she sadly confided to me that she had left her boyfriend, I thought, well, for sure now, here you'll be. But still nothing.

That's when I realized, dear heart, that part of you had died. No love, not even crushes anymore.

Am I disappointed or relieved? Neither? Both?

4 Comments

Clear What Happened, by John M. Carlson

25/11/2022

3 Comments

“This is the biggest mess I’ve ever seen after a Thanksgiving dinner!” Pam said. “Look at all those broken dishes. Hundreds if not thousands of dollars of china, smashed!”

“My ex always whined about what our dining room looked like the day after Thanksgiving,” Greg said. “She should see this!”

“It’s clear what happened,” Pam said. “This started as a family dinner. Then, there was an ugly fight. But I suppose we should be good detectives and investigate this like we’d investigate any other scene of a multiple homicide with no survivors.”

3 Comments

The Color of Grief, by Kendra Judge

25/11/2022

11 Comments

Editor's Choice

I splash my face, washing tears away. Tears the color of grief.
The mirror winks as the bulb flashes off, then on, blinking in silvered surprise. In it, I see the curve of my face, an echo of my father’s. The link between us.
Memories wash, fresh and clean, like water. Of Christmases and birthdays. Of school concerts and graduation. And the birth of my son, his first golden grandchild. The advice and wisdom my father shared. Every life experience. The joys and the love.
He missed none of it.
I splash my face again. And this time, I smile.

11 Comments

Moving Time, by Jacqui Wiley

25/11/2022

8 Comments

What is time but seconds and minutes, what meaning has time if there is nothing to fill it.

What is a heart without some love, is it like a cold hand without a glove?

Christmas is approaching, will there be snow? Material goods for all to show.

Presents galore with no meaning, parties and sparkles everyone gleaming.

Bills to pay with little money, hams to glaze with cloves and honey.

Rushing and pushing to and fro, racing and fretting, nowhere to go.

All to sit around a table, masks painted on. Our hearts breaking, without you, as life moves along.

8 Comments

Disappearance, by Krystyna Fedosejevs

25/11/2022

8 Comments

Cindy usually shops alone. This time she decided to bring along a minor.

“Which one you like?” she asked, shaking a stuffed toy in one hand, squeezing a squeaky ball in the other.

She turned to face her guest. Not there.

“Archie, where did you go?” she screeched, looking about her.

A salesperson offered to help search.

Down one particular aisle, they heard grunting beneath a bottom shelf displaying blankets. Cindy reached in.

“If you want to visit again, you’ll have to stay in the shopping cart,” she scolded, in a pet store allowing humans to bring in their cats.

8 Comments

Cats Will Be Cats, by Rashna Walton

25/11/2022

7 Comments

This morning I overheard my effusive owner spouting astrology. She says that because Saturn rules karma, we have to “own” our choices and decisions. Meeeeow.

You've got to be joking. I'm a cat. I slaughter things. So don't give me that hypocritical chit-chat about how we're wiping out millions of birds each year. If we can actually catch a bird, there's something wrong with it, so I'm doing my bit for ecology. Like that skinny bluetit yesterday. Barely enough substance to keep me going for an hour.

And you humans can talk. HOW many turkeys will you kill this Christmas?

7 Comments

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