Red Snow


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(500 words)

It is snowing at the checkpoint and John and Abbie are outside, gazing over the border to the Taebaek mountains, and freedom.
“You come, please,” says the guard, his green tunic emblazoned with enigmatic decorations and his oversized green cap looking surprisingly uncomic.
I look through the window to see Abbie throw a snowball at her dad. They are both laughing. “But we’re going soon, the bus’ll be here.”
“You come.”
North Korean guards aren’t people you ignore. He leads me into a small, austere office. Pictures of Kim Il-sung, Kim Jong-il, and Kim Jong-un hang on the wall above a desk. Their official cleaning cloth lies folded neatly on top of a filing cabinet nearby. I remember hearing about a woman who lost her cloth and used a different type. A random inspection resulted in three harsh months in a Gulag. Could that be true, I wonder?
The man at the desk looks up. His tunic has twice as many emblems and decorations as the guard. A colonel, apparently. The guard was young, not unfriendly. This man’s face is older, gaunt. It looks like he doesn’t smile often, if at all. “Mrs. Hernandez. There’s an irregularity with your visa.”
“What, no, we’ve been through this. It’s all been sorted!”
The man pushes his chair back and sits with his hands clasped together and his chin resting on them. “Mrs. Hernandez. There’s something we need you to do. Then … no problem with the visa.”
It is snowing and we’re getting on the plane. The white flakes are settling on Abbie’s golden hair as we cross the gangway. A young, pretty, Korean woman with a smart blue jacket and matching cap, wearing a very short skirt, smiles a greeting. I stare at her in a daze. I feel I’m about to crumble. Stay strong, just till the plane’s in the air. Then I can go to the toilet and dissolve.
I’d been taken to a room. Three women were sitting on a bench. Their faces were frightened but resigned, their eyes huge with pleading.
“You pick one,” said the colonel.
“Why me?”
He shrugged. “Orders.”

I made the impossible choice, the oldest one, but still only middle-aged. I caught her eyes for a split second but it was enough. We went outside to a snow-covered yard, the flakes coming down harder now. My hands were shaking. The colonel handed me a heavy pistol with a squat silencer. He showed me the safety catch, put the gun against his head in demonstration, and motioned the woman to kneel.

It is snowing at Las Angeles airport. Is it snowing everywhere in the world, I wonder? Everyone is there to greet us. John’s mum and dad, Abbie’s friends, my sister Madeleine – ‘Mads,’ and a newspaper reporter from our home town.

I smile, wave, and reply to questions on autopilot. In my mind there’s one image. Beautiful huge white snowflakes swirling and settling on the ground by the woman’s head – instantly turning red.

 

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To purchase the stories (up to June 2017) in paperback, Kindle eBook, and audiobook form, please see Shop.

If you are interested in joining a fortnightly 400 word story group please contact me and I’ll send details.

Don’t forget to check out some of the other stories on the blog. There are over 200! 

Keeping It in the Family


police accident

(700 words)

“Hard to imagine he’ll get away with it,” said my sister Donna.
“Well, he says if we both stick to the story, they can’t prove anything.”
Donna looked thin and pale, not surprising, considering the strain we’d all been living under. “I still can’t believe it, that poor woman!”
“Look, I know it’s awful, but nothing we can say or do’s going to bring her back is it?”
Donna sighed. “I suppose not. But it’s not justice is it?”
“What’s justice at the end of the day? Just someone’s opinion over someone else’s. Where’s the sense in him spending years in prison. He’d lose everything, and it’d destroy mum.”
Donna turned away, saying nothing, busying herself with preparing lunch. I collapsed into an old armchair.
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My brother Matthew and I had gone to see a play. Donna was coming too, but had cancelled, feeling too ill after a minor dental procedure. On the way home, with Matt driving, a woman had walked out onto a zebra crossing, just as we were coming out of town on the main high street. Matt had been pontificating about the main female role, in his view the only one who could really act, never mind that she was a pretty blonde thing with large breasts. He wasn’t concentrating and the car ploughed into the woman with a loud thud, sending her flying. We got out and stood in horrified silence, looking down at the attractive face, blood now leaking over it from a crack in her head where it had hit the road. In the orange street light the vital fluid began to resemble a black veil.
“Listen Sarah, she ran out in front of us, I didn’t have time to stop,” said Matt, staring into my eyes.
“What?!”
“You heard.”
We looked around. It was gone eleven and the streets were deserted in the quiet town. There was no other traffic.
Then a window opened above a shop by the zebra crossing. A woman looked down. “Oh my God!”
Matt whispered, “She ran out in front of us, remember!”

Reluctantly, I nodded, just as a door opened to the right of the shop and a middle-aged woman clutching a mobile phone rushed out in slippers and a coat, hurriedly thrown over a nightie. “I’m a nurse,” she said, then bent to test the woman’s pulse. “She’s still breathing!” She phoned for an ambulance.

Later, we’d heard that the woman, 33 year old Sylvia Barnes, had died on the way to hospital. I’d felt totally gutted and mad at Matt. He’d said he was sorry, but he’d always had a ruthless streak and seemed to be taking the whole shocking affair in his stride. I’d needed to confide in someone, so I’d told Donna. I could trust her to keep it in the family.
We’d been taken to the police station and breathalyzed. Fortunately, Matt had only drunk coke at the interval. I’d had a large glass of Pinot Grigio. The car was in Matt’s name and I wasn’t insured to drive it, so they’d believed him when he said he was driving.
Then we’d both been interviewed the next day. I’d been asked the same question in twenty different ways. What exactly had I seen? My answer: “Nothing.” I’d been looking in my handbag for my mobile phone and just been aware of a crash and being restrained by my seat belt as I jerked forward under the impact. In the end I’d come to believe it myself.
The police had appealed for witnesses but no one had come forward, and there was no CCTV, thank God! It had all come down to Matt’s word against the suspicions of the police and Sylvia’s family.
Then yesterday had come a bombshell. I’d read that Sylvia had recently given birth to her first child, a girl they’d named Emma. I hadn’t known. A thought came into my mind, ‘It’s never too late to do the right thing.’
“What are you thinking?” asked Donna, putting a plate of ham and tomato sandwiches on the table.
I took one, and opened it, looking at the juicy thick-cut local ham. “Oh, just wondering if there’s any mustard.”

Don’t forget to check out some of the other stories on my blog. There are over 160! 

If you are interested in joining a fortnightly 400 word story group please contact me and I’ll send details.

Also, I’m very pleased to announce that ‘the best of my blog,’ To Cut a Short Story Short: 111 Little Stories, and a short story, Bound in Morocco, are now both available as paperbacks and Kindle eBooks. Please see Shop in the menu above for full details.

Don’t Know What to Write?


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(800 words)

Journalism was my husband’s profession. His name was Alan Worley and the ‘six honest serving-men’ gave his work the acuity and aplomb that propelled his novel, ‘Uprising in Eden,’ a tale of human duplicity in the garden of Eden, to fame. Following its prodigious success, he’d pulled the plug on his newspaper work and devoted himself to lecturing and giving readings, although after a year they had dried up. After all, one can only talk about the same stuff so many times, before running out of people who want to hear it. Then Alan had withdrawn from public life to work on the novel’s successor.
Every morning he’d go into his study with a breakfast tray and lock the door. Save for answering the call of nature he’d stay there until he’d written two thousand words. Sometimes I’d hear a call, “Jude, get me some more toast, and don’t burn it!” other times, “that tea was foul, too much chlorine in the water! Make me some fresh with distilled water.” I was charged with buying it and heaven help me if we ran out!
One thing he always said, “if inspiration doesn’t strike, I’ll write ‘I don’t know what to write,’ just to get my pen going.” Yes, he was of the old school, “none of your new fangled computer gubbins for me, thank you very much! Shakespeare didn’t need a bloody computer!”
Then, his writing done for the day, he’d take our dog for a long walk. After tea he’d work on his model train set and watch TV. Save for our annual two week holiday in Iceland that was his routine for the next twenty years, Christmas Day and his birthday included.
He never published another book. “For God’s sakes Jude, it’ll be ready when it’s ready, stop yammering on about it!” Money grew tight and we had to forgo the waterfalls and lava fields. Then liver cancer struck. Three months later we were burying him in a lavish ceremony, attended by literary lions who likely neither remembered nor cared about him…
“Hey, Steve, I just got a call from Jude Worley, Alan’s widow!”
“Who?”
“The guy who just died. Uprising in Eden!” said Martin Simmons, CEO of Whartons Publishing.
“Oh, yeah, what happened with him?”
“Well, Bill gave him an advance on another novel but Worley never came up with anything, a big fat nada! Bill just let it go in the end. He got his golden handshake, why bother about a has-been novelist? He’d made us big bucks in any case.”
“What did she want?”
“Says he left a cabinet full of writings from the last twenty years and would we be interested in coming to have a look?”
“Jesus Christ! Yes, tell her yes!”
The staircase is narrow and the carpet, faded pastel-green. The landing is silent save for the low tick of a grandfather clock. “It’s through here,” I say, leading the two men into the study.
“Good Lord, this is like a time capsule!” says Martin. Nothing in the room looks like it’s been purchased within the last thirty years. In the corner of the room stands a large steel cabinet.
“It’s locked,” I say.
“Do you have the key?”
I go to an ancient desk and take out a sealed envelope. “He made me promise never to open it. He said to have the cabinet destroyed after he died.”
“Why didn’t you?”
I sigh. “Money…”
“Look, go downstairs, just relax, we’ll give you a shout.”
Well, they can’t have been up there more than ten minutes when I hear a call, “Mrs. Worley!”
“Coming!” My hands are shaking. My gut tells me those manuscripts must be pretty valuable. I imagine standing by the thundering waters of Dettifoss once more. Watching water boiling out of the earth and exploding a hundred feet into the air at Strokkur.
I tramp up the worn staircase, past the old grandfather clock and into Alan’s study. Both men, Martin and Steve, are standing by the desk, which is now piled high with manuscript books. There’s something odd in their demeanour.
“Mrs. Worley, do you know what your husband was working on?”
“Well, he didn’t talk about it and I didn’t like to pry. Do you know if he wrote many novels yet?”
The men exchange glances. Martin hands me a volume. “Take a look.”
I open the book with eager anticipation. Then I understand. Tears course down my cheeks. “Sorry.” I dab at my eyes and whisper, “Are they all like that?”
“I’m sorry Mrs. Worley, really sorry,” says Martin. “Yes.”

I look down at the page again, now stained with tears. On every line, of every page, of perhaps one hundred volumes, is one line, endlessly repeated. ‘I don’t know what to write.’



Don’t forget to check out some of the other stories on my blog. There are over 280! 
If you are interested in joining a fortnightly 600 word story group please contact me and I’ll send details.

Having a Laff (excerpts)


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20 Little Excerpts from the Humorous Side of My Blog

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It was a dull claustrophobic December day and flakes of grey-white snow were settling on the terrace behind King’s Antiquarian Booksellers. Maggie Swann, matriarch of Swann’s Rare Books, crossed it to enter an annex. Inside, in eerie silence, anonymous leather-bound volumes filled dusty bookcases. –  A Merry Dance (1000 words)

Deeply absorbed in my lunch at Olive’s, I heard my smartphone buzz with a message. ‘Please bring October figures to the Saudi meeting. Vernon.’
Damn! I’d forgotten it’d been rescheduled; I had just ten minutes! I ran outside to a nearby taxi rank, ominously vacant. – A Night on the Clown (200 words)
Vulgarity is the poor man’s religion!” said Sheldrake, battling against the loud chatter and raucous laughter of the Crown and Anchor’s early evening trade.
“Who said that?”
“Oscar Wilde.”
“No he didn’t!”
Sheldrake banged the table. “Well he should’ve done!” – Chivvers’ Foibles (200 words)
After the office I’d address my lascivious thoughts of the women there. I had my little ‘collection’ – hair shirts, a lightweight five-tailed ‘discipline’, and others. Dissatisfied with Hail Mary’s and the like, I’d mop up the blood with an old towel. Perhaps I was a little…odd? – Cilice Sod (200 words)
‘Parker’, that’s what they calls me, on account of I’m a nosy sod, know what I mean. Anyways, I’m a pot-man at the Universe club and the guvnor tells me to ‘keep an eye out for anything untoward’, know what I mean? – Cocksure (200 words)
“Police state, that’s what this bloody place is becoming!” Arthur complained, looking up at the mandible poking incongruously from beneath a peaked cap.
The policeman’s protruding eyes swivelled down at him… – Don’t Mind the Police! (100 words)
“World domination’s never actually been my bag dear boy,” said Charles, striding across his study in a purple dressing gown and paisley cravat. “And there’s my bad back and dicky heart to think of, you know.” – Double Trouble (200 words)
I took a short cut through the adjoining park, passing along a walkway, bounded by burgeoning shrubs, to a fountain, sparkling amongst pink rosebushes. A statue of Pan stood nearby.
I enjoyed the gentle sound of water. Then, something black loomed, I looked up and saw two nuns. Their countenances were grim and masculine. –  Get in the Habit! (500 words)
“Excuse me, I’m sorry to interrupt your conversation.” A lady in a long red dress stood at our table. “Only, my husband and I have a disagreement.” She gestured to a corner of the crowded restaurant, to a man with coiffured white hair. “And we’d like you to decide who’s right.” – Hopes and Arrows (200 words)

Through Lincs’ fair wolds, did roam at large
the evil Sprogge, oh loathsome beast!
Half plant, half man, half monstrous thing
on teeny tods did feast.

Past Tetford Church the Sprogge did lurch,
its eyes did mulder and burn.
It munched upon a teeny tod
then tavern-wards did journ.

Legend of the Sprogge (poem)
Hating the idea, I am nevertheless obliged to cooperate with Mellors’ latest ‘prank’, another outrageous practical joke for his YouTube channel.
I hide behind a tree with my video camera focused on him. He sits, smirking, on a camping stool at the side of a path. In front of him lies Frank, especially selected on account of his prosthetic leg. – Legless in the Park (200 words)
‘Pulpit John’ was the title of a colourful biography, published by St. Patrick’s Church, about Father John McCormick. Garlic on his breath now wafted through the confessional screen there.
“Bless me Father…” – Mysterious Ways (200 words)
“Wigan’s the place for podiums!” said Sue, waving her baton at an imaginary orchestra.
“What about Amazon?” her sister Shirley replied.
“I want to go to the podium shop!” The baton flew across the room hitting the cat, Dr. Evil, on the head. – Peer’s of Wigan (200 words)
The audience hushed and the curtain opened. A woman sat at a table drinking Blossom Hill chardonnay and reading a letter. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed, standing up and bursting into tears.
A door opened and a teenage girl dressed in torn jeans entered. “Mum, I need twenty quid!” – Play with Emotions (200 words)
Goddamit! The president recalled the previous evening when he and the First Lady had hunkered after a chicken curry. An aide had been sent out for a native Indian dish, returning with something aromatic and fiery. Very fiery.
“OK, …I need the rest room…” – Rest Room (200 words)
In the bar were about a dozen people seated on wooden benches at old oak tables – the furniture looked like it had been there since the pub was built. At the back of the room a small fire burned in a large fireplace, surrounded by bottles, horse brasses, unrecognizable farm implements and other dust-covered relics of the rural past. – The Black Swan (590 words)
From a speck of jelly-like substance, the organism had doubled its size every hour. Now just twelve hours later, it was pushing up the laboratory ceiling, a huge white blob of viscous cellular material. – The Blob from Outer Space (200 words)
Holmes took out a magnifying glass and looked carefully at the marks.
“One and five eights between the studs Watson. Don’t you see – the Bridlington quartz mine!”
“Good Lord Holmes! But…?” – The Final Mystery (100 words)
She looked at herself in the mirror. Long brown hair, good skin. Not much wrong there. Maybe it was her breath? She cupped her hand over her mouth and nose, inhaling the odour of garlic – but who didn’t like garlic?! – The Neighbour (200 words)

She thought of her little village, Saltby St. Mary’s, recalling balmy summer evenings at the cricket pitch, sipping champagne by the walls of the ancient church, only the occasional ‘thwack’ of willow on leather breaking the peaceful silence. – The Saltby St. Mary’s Murders (200 words)



Don’t forget to check out some of the other stories on my blog. There are over 100! 

If you are interested in joining a fortnightly 300 word story group please contact me and I’ll send details.

Hibars and Lobars (excerpts)


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20 Little Excerpts from the SF/Fantasy Side of my Blog

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For no reason I went round the back and peered through our dining room window. I was surprised to see my parents, turned away fortunately, and my sister Judy comatose on the table. – A Controlling Interest (200 words)

“Control of the media. That’s what’s going on!” Frank’s pale blue eyes were staring, his face flushed, and his mop of ginger hair tousled. “I’m telling you what I saw. There were a couple of hundred others, at least. They saw it too!”
“Calm down darling, I’m not saying I don’t believe you. It’s just…. – A Saucerful of Bullshit (400 words)
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Hating the feeling of apprehension, Pythis went upstairs for the luggage. Two large packs were thrown down the stairwell, tumbling like dice. One spilled outside, just as his father led an animal past. It resembled an anteater but with four long ostrich-like legs. – Another Splash (200 words)
There was no receptionist, just two lift doors, one orange, one green. Each one had a large shiny silver button to the right of it. Here goes! I plumped for the orange door and pressed the corresponding button. The door whispered open, revealing a spacious mirrored interior and I stepped inside. – Are You Being Served? (1414 words)
In the near future a device is invented which, when implanted into the brain, gives the user access to intense sexual gratification by simply pressing a button. However, the government then decide to tax the use of the device. – Biggest Brother (SF prompts, 459 words)
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When I’d called into the Black Swan’s usual Tuesday evening music event, I hadn’t really expected to be snowed on.
A local pianist was noodling on the piano whilst a young chap, with short black hair and a comb-over dyed purple and green in part, was brandishing some brass rings at a table.
“We’ve a magician tonight, Andrew someone,” – Black Swan, Green Lizard (700 words)
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The act over, he slept, waking to the burning light of twin suns. He reached out but she‘d gone – for now, back to her kind. – Dumb (100 words)
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Noticing a black beetle-like car approaching, his heart skipped a beat – The Police! The vehicle cruised to a stop and a metallic voice rang out.
“Who are you and where are you going?”
“Who, me? Just walking home.” – Encounter on London Bridge (200 words)
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When he looked it wasn’t there. Thomas Edison Jr., proprietor of Inventions Я Us, shifted a pile of complex schematics, exasperated. Where on Earth was his cigar cutter? – Inventions Я Us (300 words)
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Steven smiled. “Obviously I can’t tell you everything but we use tiny little drones that look like insects. They use facial recognition technology. They inject various poisons, all are undetectable – death looks natural… You’d just leave a window open…” – Little Pricks in the Night (200 words)
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Now silent, the powerful car ploughed on through the night. In all lanes of the motorway, relentless traffic – headlights dazzling, red tail-lights shining, occupants invisible. – Lobar Limbo (200 words)
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We’d been out to dinner, where we’d discussed my forthcoming sex change, and taken a backroad home. Normally moths sparkled in the headlights and sometimes hares ran on the road. Tonight, nothing moved save wraiths of hovering grey-white mist. – Mementoes (200 words)
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“Inventions of the subconscious mind, landscapes of the night – dreams!” Professor Quint spoke dramatically. The students paid rapt attention.
“Dreams can have the most fantastical plots – it’s as if your subconscious mind is instantly composing a complex screenplay. – Mind Your Subconscious (200 words)
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‘It was incredible and completely unexpected; the sensations as our fingers touched was electric; my heart skipped a beat and I momentarily forgot to breathe.’My Name is Ian Z. McPhee (627 words)
A hush fell and a neat, grey suited man appeared. “Ladies and Gentlemen, a star known as Nibiru and its four planets are approaching Earth. This is being suppressed!” – Nibiru (200 words)
“Have you thought how many grains of sand are on this beach?” said Julie, lowering her bright blue rubber bikini top to rub sun cream into puffy white flesh. She let a handful of sand trickle through her fingers. “100, 200, 300…” – Playing God (300 words)
At midnight, whilst the moon threw shadows like huge gravestones across the street, he would walk, seeking the aroma he desired. His face was gaunt and sallow, his lips thin and red, and his eyes as black as infinity. – Steal a Little Dream (500 words)
From a speck of jelly-like substance, the organism had doubled its size every hour. Now just twelve hours later, it was pushing up the laboratory ceiling, a huge white blob of viscous cellular material. – The Blob from Outer Space (200 words)
His companion Matt steered the rover in the direction of six thimble-shaped buildings. “Look at all that shit on them!” Hard to believe they had once been white. Now they were barely distinguishable from the rolling red Martian hills behind them. – Tiny Demons (600 words)
“Faster than thought!” reflected Dr. Smeaton, sitting in Obama Lunar Base. A screen showed a scene on Earth, a pubescent girl with protruding teeth connected to electrical equipment. – Where is Your Mind? (200 words)

 Don’t forget to check out some of the other stories on my blog. There are over 100! 

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If you are interested in joining a fortnightly 300 word story group please contact me and I’ll send details.

The Hollow Santa


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(500 words)
Christmas 2026, and we had our best tree ever! It was green and frosted silver, perfectly proportioned and reached right up to the ceiling. Its branches were adorned with opalescent silver and golden balls, crimson poinsettia sprays and gold-frosted holly leaves. Giant white snow flakes twinkled in the light of red candles, suspended in the tree. A small railway track threaded its way through the branches and every few minutes tiny headlights would announce the appearance of a train.
“Oh look!” squealed my daughter Nancy. With her padded bra, make up and hair extensions, she was twelve years old going on twenty. “This one’s a steam train. With elves!”
The tiny vehicle appeared, puffing clouds of white smoke and a carriage full of green-clad ‘little people’ waved to us and cheered.
At the top of the tree stood a beautiful angel, her wings and arms tinged with snow. Every so often she would smile and bow, fluttering her wings. In her left hand she held a sprig of mistletoe.
At the base of the tree lay a pile of presents, beautifully wrapped in grey, silver and gold with simple curly ribbon and evergreen pieces.
“Which ones are mine?” Desmond, my nine year old son asked eagerly.
“Those five on the right,” I said.
“That’s not fair, he’s got more than me!” said Nancy.
Suddenly the lights flickered with a momentary power fluctuation and the tree vanished, leaving just the presents looking forlorn on a bare expanse of parquet flooring.
“Hey, what’s going on?” exclaimed the children in unison.
“Sorry kids, looks like I need to reset the tree.” I went to the control box and flicked a switch on and off. Magically, a silvery light flickered, and wham!  the tree was back.
“Ho ho ho!” A huge sled, laden with presents and pulled by four pairs of reindeer appeared through the wall. It stopped in front of us and I could see and smell the animals sweat. These holograms just kept on getting better!
There were two figures seated at the front. A gentleman dressed in red with a huge white beard and a red hat, and an attractive young brunette in a short red fur-trimmed skirt.
“Well Merry Christmas to you all!” said Santa stepping off the sled and patting a reindeer.
“Merry Christmas Santa!” said Desmond.
“Don’t be stupid, he can’t hear you, he’s not real!” said Nancy.
My wife Lucy appeared. “Now, now Nancy, don’t spoil things.”
“Well, have I got a treat for you!” said Santa, holding the young lady’s hand as she got off the sled. I noticed her tunic seemed to be under some stress. She smiled, and started to unbutton it, revealing large breasts in a skimpy red bra. Meanwhile Santa was unbuttoning his trousers.
“For God’s sake, turn it off!” shouted Lucy.
I lunged for the control panel just as I heard the children gasp. Damn!  It looked like I must have left it set on the ‘adult’ version…

Don’t forget to check out some of the other stories on my blog. There are over 100! 

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If you are interested in joining a fortnightly 300 word story group please contact me and I’ll send details.

So Many Ways to Die


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20 little extracts from the dark side of my blog

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Exiting the lift, his stomach lurched.
Grant appeared. “Hello Jonathan, ready?”
“Hello, no, I need the bathroom.”
“There’s one right here. It’s just been renovated.” Grant gestured to a door, labelled ‘Danger, Keep Out’. – The 100th Story (200 words)


Neither Jan or Jen, my workmates, believed me. “Look you guys, I overheard Ahmed on the phone, talking about dimethyl mercury and something about roses.”
Jan raised her painted eyebrows. “What’s that then?”
“I looked it up, it’s a deadly poison.”
“You must have misheard!” Jen laughed as the phone rang.
“Hello, Indigo Flowers. Yes, we do sunflowers…” – Adrenalin Junkie (200 words)


“King size cappuccino please.” Mr. Hughes chose the same as he always did, sighing at his lack of imagination. He stood at the platform kiosk, tall, thin, in a worn blue suit.
“£2.60.” The cashier, unsmiling, blinked big green eyes beneath a copper fringe. – The Coffee Break (200 words)


The knock comes again, louder and insistent.“It’s OK mum, I’ll get it.” Her youngest, Jamie, just turned twelve, thunders down the stairs, having momentarily disconnected from his x-box.
She hears a man’s voice. Then Jamie appears. He flicks a mop of black hair out of his eyes. “He says he’s selling pumpkins. Do you want any more?” – A Flick of the Knife: A Halloween Story (600 words)


Eighteen hundred hours. OK, go, go, go!
Twenty metres away across the moonless sand, a lone sentry stood. Behind me, black parachutes, like water holes in the desert.
Orders were ‘no shooting’ – ours not to reason why! – Femme Fatal (100 words)


Entering the library, she selected an ancient volume, résumé du diets, showing me illustrations of impossibly thin Elizabethan women. Juxtaposed were strange recipes – samphire stew, starling fricassee, fox meat in aspic, others stranger still. – Fox Meat in Aspic (200 words)


Without speaking, they climbed a wide staircase, their shadows playing against the rough stone walls whilst their breath misted in the cold air. At a landing she hesitated. “Which way?”
The man gestured to the right. Soon another staircase appeared on the left. “This way.”
A figure awaited them at the next landing. His head was that of a falcon and above it was a vertical orange-yellow disc. – Here Comes the Sun (500 words)


Through Lincs’ fair wolds, did roam at large
the evil Sprogge, oh loathsome beast!
Half plant, half man, half monstrous thing
on teeny tods did feast.
.
Past Tetford Church the Sprogge did lurch,
its eyes did mulder and burn.
It munched upon a teeny tod
then tavern-wards did journ.

Legend of the Sprogge (poem)


Hating the idea, I am nevertheless obliged to cooperate with Mellors’ latest ‘prank’, another outrageous practical joke for his YouTube channel.
I hide behind a tree with my video camera focused on him. He sits, smirking, on a camping stool at the side of a path. In front of him lies Frank, especially selected on account of his prosthetic leg. – Legless in the Park (200 words)


Now silent, the powerful car ploughed on through the night. In all lanes of the motorway, relentless traffic – headlights dazzling, red tail-lights shining, occupants invisible. Huge trucks sporting rows of blazing spotlights on hibars and lobars resembled speeding Christmas lights. Beyond the central barrier the lights of equally unrelenting oncoming traffic… – Lobar Limbo (200 words)


“Let’s stop at Thaxby, I want a wee!” my partner Saffron had giggled.
“OK.”
We’d been out to dinner, where we’d discussed my forthcoming sex change, and taken a backroad home. Normally moths sparkled in the headlights and sometimes hares ran on the road. Tonight, nothing moved save wraiths of hovering grey-white mist. – Mementoes (200 words)

He covered his face. Stop, PLEASE…
Then he was gliding over an alien landscape – dark fathomless canyons, volcanoes hurling spume to enormous heights, gigantic crashing waves in a chemical ocean. – The Real Doctor Lamont (200 words)

He was a large, squat man, bald and heavy-jowled, with a hooked nose and large moist pink lips. He would sit between seven and nine of an evening, nursing a pint of ‘mild’, occasionally exchanging brief pleasantries in a hoarse whisper. – Sheldon’s Secret (200 words)

A young doctor, pimply and onion-breathed, shone an intense white light into my eyes. “No response I’m afraid, amantidine doesn’t seem to have helped.”
Damn you! I can hear you, see you!Speechless (100 words)

Stephen spoke into his helmet. “Approaching the pods.”
His companion Matt steered the rover in the direction of six thimble-shaped buildings. “Look at all that shit on them!” Hard to believe they had once been white. Now they were barely distinguishable from the rolling red Martian hills behind them. – Tiny Demons (700 words)

She awoke, realising she’d drifted off. The room was dark and cold, the fire almost out. The radio was hissing loudly. Against the hiss a voice was speaking, faint, distant in time and space, as though from another planet. – Voices from the Ether (1000 words)

Sitting at the piano was a pretty little girl with blonde hair and a white dress, practising scales. She would play them perfectly going up but stumble on the way down. After a while she looked up at me and smiled. “Hello, are you from the future?”
“I don’t know. Probably,” I said. – Walls Have Mouths (782 words)

It was July 2008 and we were flying into remote Sierra Leone.
“Not long Bwana,” said Emmanuel, my Tanzanian pilot.
“OK Mani. D’you know the area?”
“Yes. It’s dangerous.”
Ten long years of civil war; Everywhere was dangerous. – The War and Starvation Diet (200 words)

Arranging her music, Eloise sat at the piano in her uncle’s empty chateau. Nearby stood an ornate antique desk. On impulse she opened a drawer; beneath photographic magazines, an envelope.
Inquisitively she looked inside it – photographs, and what photographs! – What the Devil? (100 words)

Smeaton pressed a button. A random number appeared behind him, occluded by a metal plate.
“Seven.” Tibby smiled.
The plate slid up, revealing the number seven.
Hmm.. “Another?”
“Alright. Sixteen!”
“I haven’t pressed it yet!”
Doing so, number sixteen showed. – Where is Your Mind? (200 words)

Don’t forget to check out some of the other stories on my blog. There are over 100! 

 –

If you are interested in joining a fortnightly 300 word story group please contact me and I’ll send details.

Story Index – 27th Nov 2016


oz-books

If you are interested in joining a fortnightly 300 word story group please contact me and I’ll send details.

UPDATED TO 11TH DECEMBER

(Links open in new window/tab)

To see these stories listed under categories please see my new contents page

 

 title

publication’ date

no. of words

1

A Controlling Interest

10th Jul 2016

200

2

A Dartmoor Childhood

15th Nov 2015

200

3

A Design for Death

3rd Apr 2016

200

4

A Flick of the Knife – A Halloween Story

30th Oct 2016

600

5

A Friend in Need

24th Jan 2016

200

6

A Merry Dance

29th Dec 2015

1000

7

A Night on the Clown

17th Apr 2016

200

8

A Personal Experience

18th Oct 2015

200

9

A Saucerful of Bullshit

27th Oct 2016

400

10

Ad Pacem

24th Jan 2016

200

11

Addressing Impatience

22nd Sep 2016 

200

12

Adrenaline Junkie

26th Jun 2016

200

13

All Change

24th Jul 2016

200

14

Amid the Winter’s Snow

29th Sep 2016 

200

15

Amid the Winter’s Snow – 500 word version

7th Nov 2016

500

16

Another Splash

15th May 2016

200

17

Are You Being Served?

10th Apr 2016  – TASWG

1414

18

As Jehovah is My Witness – dialogue

8th May 2016  – TASWG

231

19

Biggest Brother – SF plots

12th Jun 2016  – TASWG

459

20

Bouncers!

6th Mar 2016

200

21

Bound in Morocco: Part 1 – ‘Welcome to Marrakech!’

17th Jan 2016

7224

Bound in Morocco: Part 2 – Blue Painted Rocks

17th Jan 2016

 

Bound in Morocco: Part 3 – 50 Jour a Tombouctou

17th Jan 2016

 

Bound in Morocco: Part 4 – Ibrahim

17th Jan 2016

 

Bound in Morocco: Part 5 – Nimzowitsch-Larsen Attack

17th Jan 2016

 

22

Chivvers’ Foibles

29th Aug 2016

200

23

Cilice Sod

7th Aug 2016

200

24

Cocksure

12th Jun 2016

200

25

Copperwood

27th Feb 2016

500

26

Death of a Dear Friend

24th Jul 2016

200

27

Don’t Mind the Police!

30th Nov 2015

100

28

Double Trouble

20th Mar 2016

200

29

Dream of a Stone Horse

30th Apr 2016

100

30

Duck Surprise

21st Feb 2016

200

31

Dumb

31st Dec 2015

100

32

Encounter on London Bridge

18th Oct 2015

200

33

Erection and Resurrection

10th Nov 2016

600

34

Femme Fatal

31st Jan 2016

100

35

Fibonacci ‘n’ Chardonnay

11th Dec 2016  700

36

Fox Meat in Aspic

13th Dec 2015

200

37

Get in the Habit!

12th Jun 2016  – TASWG

500

38

Hen Morning

1st Oct 2016 

200

39

Here Comes the Sun

7th Dec 2016  500

40

Hopes and Arrows

17th Apr 2016

200

41

If Two Witches Were Watching…

10th Sep 2016

200

42

Incident at Clibbon’s Farm

24th Jul 2016

200

43

Inventions Я Us

1st Sep 2016

300

44

Legend of the Sprogge – poem

14th Feb 2016 – TASWG

216

45

Legless in the Park

15th May 2016

200

46

Life on Mars

31st Oct 2015

100

47

Little Pricks in the Night

18th Sep 2016

200

48

Lobar Limbo

13th Dec 2015

200

49

Love, Let Us! – acrostic poem

14th Feb 2016  – TASWG

62

50

Lucifer’s Kitchen

29th Jul 2016 

500

51

Luck of the Devil

12th Nov 2016

500

52

Marley’s Spirit

6th Sep 2016

200

53

Medium Rare

20th Oct 2016 

300

54

Mementoes

7th Aug 2016

200

55

Mind Your Subconscious!

27th Dec 2015

200

56

Mirror Man

12th Jun 2016

200

57

Miss Chan Takes a Trip

27th Dec 2015

200

58

Mortal Gods – cover art description

14th Feb 2016  – TASWG

390

59

My Name is Ian Z McPhee

10th Apr 2016  – TASWG

627

60

Mysterious Ways

3rd Apr 2016

200

61

Nibiru

29th Nov 2015

200

62

Onwards and Upwards – blog

24th Aug 2016

500

63

Orwyn’s Ring

7th Feb 2016

200

64

Out of the Woods – story with/without clichés

13th Mar 2016  – TASWG

400

65

Peer’s of Wigan

29th Nov 2015

200

66

Play with Emotions

27th Dec 2015

200

67

Playing God

16th Oct 2016

300

68

Rest Room

1st Nov 2015

200

69

Reunited

15th Nov 2015

200

70

Ringing the Changes

1st Mar 2016

1750

71

Saint Teresa of Woking

22nd Aug 2016

1167

72

Saint Teresa of Woking 600 word version

1st Feb 2016

600

73

Seeing What Isn’t There

26th Aug 2016

200

74

Sheldon’s Secret

21st Feb 2016

200

75

Si Vicium In Petasus

1st May 2016

200

76

Speechless

31st Mar 2016

100

77

Steal a Little Dream

3rd Nov 2016

500

78

Stripogram Girls – potential plots

13th Mar 2016  – TASWG

604

79

Summer is Springing Up – descriptive passage

8th May 2016  – TASWG

252

80

Take A Long Holiday..

10th Jan 2016

200

81

Teeth Can Wait

25th Mar 2016

500

82

Terrace with Tortoises – scene description

13th Mar 2016  – TASWG

321

83

Tetford, No Ordinary Village

27th Jun 2016

500

84

The 100th Story

24th Sep 2016 

200

85

The Black Swan

29th Oct 2015

590

86

The Blob from Outer Space

7th Feb 2016

200

87

The Coffee Break

6th Mar 2016

200

88

The Final Mystery

31st Oct 2015

100

89

The Girl from the Labyrinth

10th Jul 2016

200

90

The Majorette

Sep 30th 2015

100

91

The Neighbour

15th Nov 2015

200

92

The Other Woman

26th Jun 2016

200

93

The Real Doctor Lamont

1st Nov 2015

200

94

The Roaring Sun – poems

12th Jun 2016  – TASWG

67

95

The Saltby St. Mary’s Murders

1st May 2016

200

96

The Scrying Game

29th May 2016

200

97

The Story of a Bullet

10th Jan 2016

200

98

The Suspect

30th Nov 2015

100

99

The War and Starvation Diet

20th Mar 2016

200

100

This Post is Dedicated to You, Dear Reader – blog

3rd Sep 2016

500

101

Tiger Tiger

29th Nov 2015

200

102

Tiny Demons

3rd Dec 2016  600

103

Tiny Yellow Kites – 20 short extracts from published posts

4th Sep 2016

800

104

Titillating Titles and Tantalizing Taglines. – blog

27th Aug 2016

300

105

Titus

29th May 2016

200

106

Violets are Violet, Letters are Read – 20 (more) short extracts

6th Oct 2016

1200

107

Voices from the Ether

11th Dec 2015

1000

108

Walls Have Mouths

10th Apr 2016  – TASWG

782

109

What the Devil?

29th Feb 2016

100

110

Where Am I? – riddle

8th May 2016  – TASWG

91

111

Where is Your Mind?

10th Jan 2016

200

112

Yesterday’s News

30th Sep 2015

100

Story Index – 20th Oct 2016


sean-cleveland-book-shelf

If you are interested in joining a fortnightly 300 word story group please contact me and I’ll send details.

 title

‘publication’ date

no. of words

1

A Controlling Interest

10th Jul 2016

200

2

A Dartmoor Childhood

15th Nov 2015

200

3

A Design for Death

3rd Apr 2016

200

4

A Friend in Need

24th Jan 2016

200

5

A Merry Dance

29th Dec 2016

1000

6

A Night on the Clown

17th Apr 2016

200

7

A Personal Experience

18th Oct 2015

200

8

Ad Pacem

24th Jan 2016

200

9

Addressing Impatience

22nd Sep 2016 

200

10

Adrenaline Junkie

26th Jun 2016

200

11

All Change

24th Jul 2016

200

12

Amid the Winter’s Snow

29th Sep 2016 

200

13

Another Splash

15th May 2016

200

14

Are You Being Served?

10th Apr 2016  – TASWG

1414

15

As Jehovah is My Witness – dialogue

8th May 2016  – TASWG

231

16

Biggest Brother – SF plots

12th Jun 2016  – TASWG

459

17

Bouncers!

6th Mar 2016

200

18

Bound in Morocco: Part 1 – ‘Welcome to Marrakech!’

17th Jan 2016

7224

Bound in Morocco: Part 2 – Blue Painted Rocks

17th Jan 2016

 

Bound in Morocco: Part 3 – 50 Jour a Tombouctou

17th Jan 2016

 

Bound in Morocco: Part 4 – Ibrahim

17th Jan 2016

 

Bound in Morocco: Part 5 – Nimzowitsch-Larsen Attack

17th Jan 2016

 

19

Chivvers’ Foibles

29th Aug 2016

200

20

Cilice Sod

7th Aug 2016

200

21

Cocksure

12th Jun 2016

200

22

Copperwood

27th Feb 2016

500

23

Death of a Dear Friend

24th Jul 2016

200

24

Don’t Mind the Police!

30th Nov 2015

100

25

Double Trouble

20th Mar 2016

200

26

Dream of a Stone Horse

30th Apr 2016

100

27

Duck Surprise

21st Feb 2016

200

28

Dumb

31st Dec 2015

100

29

Encounter on London Bridge

18th Oct 2015

200

30

Femme Fatal

31st Jan 2016

100

31

Fox Meat in Aspic

13th Dec 2015

200

32

Get in the Habit!

12th Jun 2016  – TASWG

500

33

Hen Morning

1st Oct 2016 

200

34

Hopes and Arrows

17th Apr 2016

200

35

If Two Witches Were Watching…

10th Sep 2016

200

36

Incident at Clibbon’s Farm

24th Jul 2016

200

37

Inventions Я Us

1st Sep 2016

300

38

Legend of the Sprogge – poem

14th Feb 2016 – TASWG

216

39

Legless in the Park

15th May 2016

200

40

Life on Mars

31st Oct 2015

100

41

Little Pricks in the Night

18th Sep 2016

200

42

Lobar Limbo

13th Dec 2015

200

43

Love, Let Us! acrostic poem

14th Feb 2016  – TASWG

62

44

Lucifer’s Kitchen

29th Jul 2016 

500

45

Marley’s Spirit

6th Sep 2016

200

46

Medium Rare

20th Oct 2016

300

47

Mementoes

7th Aug 2016

200

48

Mind Your Subconscious!

27th Dec 2015

200

49

Mirror Man

12th Jun 2016

200

50

Miss Chan Takes a Trip

27th Dec 2015

200

51

Mortal Gods cover art description

14th Feb 2016  – TASWG

390

52

My Name is Ian Z McPhee

10th Apr 2016  – TASWG

627

53

Mysterious Ways

3rd Apr 2016

200

54

Nibiru

29th Nov 2015

200

55

Onwards and Upwards – blog

24th Aug 2016

500

56

Orwyn’s Ring

7th Feb 2016

200

57

Out of the Woods – story with/without clichés

13th Mar 2016  – TASWG

400

58

Peer’s of Wigan

29th Nov 2015

200

59

Play with Emotions

27th Dec 2015

200

60

Playing God

16th Oct 2016

300

61

Rest Room

1st Nov 2015

200

62

Reunited

15th Nov 2015

200

63

Ringing the Changes

1st Mar 2016

1750

64

Saint Teresa of Woking

21st Aug 2016

1167

65

Saint Teresa of Woking 600 word version

1st Feb 2016

600

66

Seeing What Isn’t There

26th Aug 2016

200

67

Sheldon’s Secret

21st Feb 2016

200

68

Si Vicium In Petasus

1st May 2016

200

69

Speechless

31st Mar 2016

100

70

Stripogram Girls – potential plots

13th Mar 2016  – TASWG

604

71

Summer is Springing Up – descriptive passage

8th May 2016  – TASWG

252

72

Take A Long Holiday..

10th Jan 2016

200

73

Teeth Can Wait

25th Mar 2016

500

74

Terrace with Tortoises – scene description

13th Mar 2016  – TASWG

321

75

Tetford, No Ordinary Village

27th Jun 2016

500

76

The 100th Story

25th Sep 2016 

200

77

The Black Swan

29th Oct 2015

590

78

The Blob from Outer Space

7th Feb 2016

200

79

The Coffee Break

6th Mar 2016

200

80

The Final Mystery

31st Oct 2015

100

81

The Girl from the Labyrinth

10th Jul 2016

200

82

The Majorette

Sep 30th 2015

100

83

The Neighbour

15th Nov 2015

200

84

The Other Woman

26th Jun 2016

200

85

The Real Doctor Lamont

1st Nov 2015

200

86

The Roaring Sun – poems

12th Jun 2016  – TASWG

67

87

The Saltby St. Mary’s Murders

1st May 2016

200

88

The Scrying Game

29th May 2016

200

89

The Story of a Bullet

10th Jan 2016

200

90

The Suspect

30th Nov 2015

100

91

The War and Starvation Diet

20th Mar 2016

200

92

This Post is Dedicated to You, Dear Reader – blog

3rd Sep 2016

500

93

Tiger Tiger

29th Nov 2015

200

94

Tiny Yellow Kites – 20 short extracts from published posts

4th Sep 2016

800

95

Titillating Titles and Tantalizing Taglines. – blog

27th Aug 2016

300

96

Titus

29th May 2016

200

97

Violets are Violet, Letters are Read – 20 (more) short extracts

6th Oct 2016

1200

98

Voices from the Ether

11th Dec 2015

1000

99

Walls Have Mouths

10th Apr 2016  – TASWG

782

100

What the Devil?

29th Feb 2016

100

101

Where Am I? – riddle

8th May 2016  – TASWG

91

102

Where is Your Mind?

10th Jan 2016

200

103

Yesterday’s News

30th Sep 2015

100

Violets are Violet, Letters are Read


sweet-violet-heart

20 (more) little extracts from my new blog.

(links open in new window/tab)
Deeply absorbed in my lunch at Olive’s, I heard my smartphone buzz with a message. ‘Please bring October figures to the Saudi meeting. Vernon.’
Damn! I’d forgotten it’d been rescheduled; I had just ten minutes! I ran outside to a nearby taxi rank, ominously vacant.
Hopping impatiently, I saw one approaching. As it stopped, someone with orange hair, a bowler hat and striped tights pushed past.
“Oi, I was here first!” I protested. – A Night on the Clown (200 words)
 –
Neither Jan or Jen, my workmates, believed me. “Look you guys, I overheard Ahmed on the phone, talking about dimethyl mercury and something about roses.”
Jan raised her painted eyebrows. “What’s that then?”
“I looked it up, it’s a deadly poison.”
“You must have misheard!” Jen laughed as the phone rang. “Hello, Indigo Flowers. Yes, we do sunflowers…” – Adrenalin Junkie (200 words)
 –
Later, I entered a surreal landscape, castle after vibrantly coloured castle – red, yellow, purple…
A young woman with short blonde hair and huge circular earrings appeared.
“Hello, I phoned about the disco dome,” I said.
“Oh yes, come this way please.” – Bouncers (200 words)
 –
“Vulgarity is the poor man’s religion!” said Sheldrake, battling against the loud chatter and raucous laughter of the Crown and Anchor’s early evening trade.
“Who said that?”
“Oscar Wilde.”
“No he didn’t!”
Sheldrake banged the table. “Well he should’ve done!” – Chivvers’ Foibles (200 words)
 
Hannah smiled at her reflection, realizing that she could see herself for the first time when having her hair cut. With embarrassment she noticed a touch of silver along the parting of her straight black bob. She winked and admired her vibrant grey eyes in the mirror. – Copperwood (500 words)
 –
“World domination’s never actually been my bag dear boy,” said Charles, striding across his study in a purple dressing gown and paisley cravat. “And there’s my bad back and dicky heart to think of, you know.”
It was the summer of 1943 and sultry in his spacious Piccadilly flat. – Double Trouble (200 words)
 
Sheldon paddled nonchalantly, maintaining his favoured position in the middle of the pool. He watched the other ducks near the bank scrabbling for bread with disdain – his mother had always told him that he had superior intelligence.
He missed his mother. The others intimated that she’d “gone visiting” but he knew better. – Duck Surprise (200 words)
 –
Eighteen hundred hours. OK, go, go, go!
Twenty metres away across the moonless sand, a lone sentry stood. Behind me, black parachutes, like water holes in the desert.
Orders were ‘no shooting’ – ours not to reason why! – Femme Fatal (100 words)
 –
I took a short cut through the adjoining park, passing along a walkway, bounded by burgeoning shrubs, to a fountain, sparkling amongst pink rosebushes. A statue of Pan stood nearby.
I enjoyed the gentle sound of water. Then, something black loomed, I looked up and saw two nuns. Their countenances were grim and masculine.
I smiled and said, “this fountain’s so pretty, isn’t it?”
Silently they circled around either side of the fountain and grasped me forcefully by the elbows. –  Get in the Habit! (500 words)
 –
He led her to a lift and all three descended several stories before entering a laboratory. Huge transformers hummed, switchboards blinked, relays clacked…
A door slid back revealing a small chamber.
”What year did you require?”
“2031.” – Inventions Я Us (300 words)
 –
I felt myself to be in a soft, warm place where I was happy. Then I noticed a bright light above and in front of me. I focused on it and saw it was a naked light bulb hanging down on a cable. The room jolted into view and I saw it was bare except for a desk strewn with papers, a stool and a couple of battered filing cabinets. A peeling radiator pumped unnecessary heat into the room.
I made to stand up and to my horror discovered that I was bound to the chair; my arms and legs both strapped down. The door opened and a familiar figure entered. – Bound in Morocco (7224 words)
On the other side of a burnished desk, a grey-suited young man (“just call me Steven”) fingered his blond ponytail. “We’re speaking the same language, yes?”
“Mmm..”
“Well, assassination’s from twenty thousand for domestics, fifty to five hundred for politicals and by negotiation for HOS.”
“HOS?”
“Heads of State,” Steven replied drily. – Little Pricks in the Night (200 words)
 
Aspects of my death were interesting.
I’d gone to my granddaughter’s pub for a pint at lunchtime. “‘Ello ‘Enry,” says old Malcolm, a ‘regular’, whilst discussing spade design.
Soon I felt unusually tired. “Sorry Malcolm, I need a lie-down.” – Marley’s Spirit (200 words)
 –
“Let’s stop at Thaxby, I want a wee!” my partner Saffron had giggled.
“OK.”
We’d been out to dinner, where we’d discussed my forthcoming sex change, and taken a backroad home. Normally moths sparkled in the headlights and sometimes hares ran on the road. Tonight, nothing moved save wraiths of hovering grey-white mist. – Mementoes (200 words)
 
Growing vegetables was old Tom’s passion. In the valley below Tillyvelyn he would work the rich black loam. On summer evenings he would sit, smoking and gazing up at the ruins of Glebe farm, high in the valley.
Sometimes he’d see lights up there. Some said it was elves, others, teenagers fooling around. Once he’d climbed there with Scott, his collie, but Scott had whined, refusing to budge. Tom proceeded alone amongst tumbled chimneys and abandoned rooms, open to the sky. No-one there save sheep grazing in the dusk. – Orwyn’s Ring (200 words)
 –
“Wigan’s the place for podiums!” said Sue, waving her baton at an imaginary orchestra.
“What about Amazon?” her sister Shirley replied.
“I want to go to the podium shop!” The baton flew across the room hitting the cat, Dr. Evil, on the head. – Peer’s of Wigan (200 words)
 –
Inventions, the new play by Bella Dalton was showing at the Garrick theatre and Bella sat in the audience incognito, the play about to begin.
The audience hushed and the curtain opened. A woman sat at a table drinking Blossom Hill chardonnay and reading a letter. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed, standing up and bursting into tears.
A door opened and a teenage girl dressed in torn jeans entered. “Mum, I need twenty quid!” – Play with Emotions (200 words)
 –
Goddamit! The president recalled the previous evening when he and the First Lady had hunkered after a chicken curry. An aide had been sent out for a native Indian dish, returning with something aromatic and fiery. Very fiery.
“OK, …I need the rest room…”
The president tried not to run. Once inside he braced his knobbly brown legs and gripped the towel rail tightly. – Rest Room (200 words)
 –
It was on a bleak February morning in Woking, whilst waiting for a number six bus, that I had the top of my head taken off. I remember a young couple arguing heatedly opposite the stop, absorbing me in their altercation so that I lost awareness of the bus pulling in. The vehicle’s wing mirror and my head collided and I came off worst. – Saint Teresa of Woking (1167 words)
 
Violets are violet, letters are read.
A lover’s words, preserved blindly, best left unsaid.
Envelopes bundled, tied with a band.
Numberless bundles, like grains of sands.
 –
Love, Let Us! (acrostic poem, 62 words)
 =

Don’t forget to check out some of the other stories on my blog. There are over 100! 

 –

If you are interested in joining a fortnightly 300 word story group please contact me and I’ll send details.