Festival of Drabbles 2015 - Competition Entries - Vote Now!

Below are the qualifying entries for the official drabble competition for the Festival of Drabbles 2015. If your entry isn't listed then it will be because your entry wasn't exactly 100 words. You have until the end of Saturday 14th November and to vote send me a message either here, on Facebook or Goodreads with your choice.

The People's Choice winner will be announced on Sunday 15th November and I will also pick three voters at random. The winning drabblist will receive a £30 Amazon or PayPal prize and four voters will also be randomly selected to win £10 Amazon gift cards - so place your votes now!

UPDATE:

My apologies for the confusion in placing votes with the start of this. I have now created a poll which you should see to your right. You can select your favourite drabble there and then post in the comments below to be included in the gift card draw. If you're commenting as anonymous then I will need some way to contact you - otherwise it will be discounted!

David M. Hoenig - Hardpan Scrabble

https://davidmhoenig.wordpress.com/2015/08/27/david-m-hoenig-md-author/

"I killed a man today.

I hadn’t known what had brought him out amid the rocks, and cactus, and hard-edged sunlight.  It didn’t matter to me what his dreams had been, or if he’d been a good person.  I never paused to wonder if he had a wife and children, or maybe a girlfriend who stripped at the honky-tonk for extra cash, who might miss him afterwards.

I hadn’t even known his name--he’d just surprised me, that’s all.

It was a shame that he was too big to eat.  My tail rattled softly when I left him where he’d fallen."


Nav Logan - I Bleed      

www.navlogan.com 

I bleed.

But not with the crass red claret that flows through my veins … no.

My bleeding has a much deeper, richer,

More vibrant pigment.

It possesses all of the colours of the rainbow.

Sometimes, my bleeding goes unseen,

Sometimes it is noticed.

Sometimes it can bring immense joy.

It can be painful,

But it can also be cathartic.

I do not bleed by choice.

I do not self-harm.

I breathe, I live,

I bleed.

My blood splatters.

It spills on the page.

It weeps from my fingertips,

And oozes from my mind.

A black shadow on white vellum.


Ken Goldman    - tiny epic        

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3054969.Kenneth_C_Goldman

“Push! Push!  Say hello to your new son.”

“Hello, Melvin. Time for school.”

“Hello, Susie. My name is Melvin. Marry me.”

“Oh, do it to me, Melvin!”

“Oh Melvin, we’re pregnant!”

“Melvin, I’m pregnant.”

“Dammit, I'm pregnant.”

“I need a raise,”  Melvin informed his boss.

“I need a job,” Melvin informed the woman at the employment agency.

“Dear Melvin,”  Susie’s lawyer's letter began.

“Come here often?” Melvin asked the girl at the bar.

“How much for the whole night?” Melvin asked the woman on the corner.

“Football injury,” Melvin told the stranger in his bed.

“Heart attack,” said the coroner.

####


A. F. Stewart - Fallen

http://afstewartblog.blogspot.ca/

The last memory of my beloved consumes me.

I cannot forget those final moments, as he fell from our war torn skies. His shattered bones, with crimson stained feathers across shredded alabaster white. His face as he plunged to his death.

That memory haunts me, as does much of this war. I still hear the magnificent ferocity of his wings as they tried to stay aloft. I awake to his screams, and they pierce my heart. When I close my eyes, I see his struggles as he tried to reach me.

But my shot had done its damage too well.


Brian Barr - Deliverance

www.brianbarrbooks.com

In meditation, Old Man Raymond was looking for enlightenment, peace, freedom.

Instead, he found hell.

Hell wasn’t fire and brimstone, the self-defeating torture of Raymond’s relentless thoughts and doubts, or the eternal boredom of nothingness.

Hell was a return.

Back to the womb. Back to the crying, the exiting of an organic tubeline, the doctor’s gloved hands.

After the snapping of the umbilical cord, Raymond was back to square one.

*

Ninety years later, in a bookstore’s philosophy section, Raymond picked up the meditation manual.

The old man was convinced he found his deliverance from the circle of life and death.


Jonathan Royan  - Incence

The church pews start to fill as I stand in silence, watching the family members file in. Normally I can smell the incense, but today I notice it's absence. It's cold, as it always is at St Michael's. Jackets and coats stay on despite the drenching they've received from the rain outside. Didn't get the weather.

There's Rebecca, my Rebecca. She's seems ok, doesn't look too nervous. Her dad is holding her arm pretty tight. I'm glad he's well enough to make it.

It's time for me to leave. I don't think I want to see my casket coming in.


David J Wing - Time and time again

https://davidjwing.wordpress.com/

A life-time in the corps meant Gerald had seen it all. His department, Slippage, handled loss; occasions where Time had seen fit to wander off the beaten track, slipped or vanished entirely. Time was prone to bouts of depression and occasions of pause, which often led to episodes of established history skipping, relatives forgetting grandchildren and pins moving about office boards.

It had been some time since Gerald had used the net. He followed a trail of droppings to the catering truck. There, Time, a Dodo of mischief, devoured the new blaspberry muffin and smiled as the net came down.


Rick Haynes - In a Stew

http://profnexus.wix.com/rickhaynes

A trail of smoke wafted upwards. Hands warmed up over the brazier. Dressed in an assortment of mismatched clothes, the two men shared out their meagre dinner.

A snowflake fell onto their cardboard home. They pulled the blankets tighter around tired shoulders and held onto their bowls for warmth.

Old before their time, both men felt that they would never reach sixty. The diet of the homeless had taken its toll.

The stew tasted different with the new ingredients, but the taste mattered little as they lay down in their beds.

They shook hands, knowing that tomorrow would never come.


John Richardson - Stranger Danger in 2137

http://starfleetcomms.com/drabble-stranger-danger-in-2137/

Nervously, the old lady peered through the window to the darkened, wet street. The radio announced there was another killer on the loose. Worriedly, she hoped he would be caught soon. There was a knock at the door. She hobbled across and peered through the peep hole. It was a young man, drenched.

“Can I use your phone? I’ve broken down.”

Elsie thought for a moment. She panicked.

“No, I’m alone, you’ll have to find someone else”.

The man grimaced, turned and continued down the street. Elsie heard shouting, a blood curdling scream then silence. Closing her eyes, she prayed.


Teri J. Dluznieski - From Pisces with Love

https://www.facebook.com/hungryghostscafe?fref=ts

It was an odd series of blips and tones, repeating with slight variations. It had been going on for a month; origin, beyond beta piscium. It was being kept uber-quiet by the military- who were secretly shitting themselves over it. The best code-breakers had been crunching away, trying to break the cipher. Was it a message of war? Peace? This was humanity's pivotal moment. If only they could crack it. Clearly someone "out there" was trying to communicate with another intelligent species. Elsewhere, oblivious to the martial-panic, dolphins and whales were coming together in a giant aquatic Woodstock. Message received.


Nicole Simms - Hunting for the Bogeyman

http://www.nicole-j-simms.co.uk/

Ever since Tommy had told Sammy about the Bogeyman, Sammy wanted to catch him. So every night Sammy would climb down from his bed and lie on the floor in wait for the Bogeyman.

After seven days, and no sign of the Bogeyman, Sammy decided to stop hunting.

That night while snuggled in his bed, Sammy felt someone shaking him. He opened his eyes and shrieked. A black skeletal figure loomed over him. ‘What are you doing?’ asked the figure.

‘Wh-Wh-What?’ Sammy gripped his quilt.

The figure sighed. ‘This is my spot. You need to get back on the floor.’


Neil Watt - Departure

http://moralitycircus.com/

Brian flinched when he saw it, the subtle flicker of metal in the moonlight. He felt himself gliding forward slowly towards the pavement. His self-awareness became vague, his sense of existence abstract. The pavement inched forwards timelessly. Brian grunted lightly as his head hit the cold damp tarmac. He looked upwards through a wall of tears to see a barrage of lights, shadowy figures moved amongst them. The figures became larger with each moment until they seemed to join in unison around him. His vision began to darken, his sensation of being dissolving while his lifeblood drained onto the street.


Juliet Boyd - The Unexpected Visitor

www.julietboyd.com

Peter squirmed. It wasn’t the cat that had jumped onto his lap. It was a thing as wrinkled as an old apple and just as unpleasant to inadvertently sniff. It had arms and legs, a miserable face, rumpled clothes and it stood about fifteen inches tall.

If he screamed, Mum would come running. No point subjecting her to the creature. If he addressed it, it would ask him to perform a distasteful task. Probably.

Instead, he grabbed his phone, leaned in close, snapped and posted. The world could give him the correct solution. Sorted.

It went viral.

Peter never knew.


Sowmya - Emergency

Story 1: Casualty:

Yesterday’s causalities were many. Jammy lost a leg, Sammy’s right ear is torn. Worst affected is Simi, her left eye has only socket left. God why this?

The action was finally over past midnight. It took all day to resort some calm.

The situation has worsened progressively for the past 3 years and I have learned to calm my nerves after surveying the inevitable damage and start the salvage. I’m finally done working on Simi’s lost eye.

Wow Mommy all dolls look great my daughter said. So is the plight of the dolls after a stay over kid’s party. What Say?


Linda G. Gayton - The Weight

As a child, my arms made big round circles that caught my dress and sent my feet flying. I was a bird wearing freedom inside out. I’d run on gravel bare soled from anyone who would try to catch me, their fingers stretched to reach an Autumn-tinged braid. Pursued by pale boys, those weak moths drawn to the light, I was chased in a race to see who could put a firefly in a jar.  I flew from their pasty mouths and they would surrender, breathless. The weight of what they did not know pressed me closer to the ground.


Bryan Thomas - Birthday Girl

It was Aliyah's tenth birthday. Her mother was leading her through the winding alleys of the town's myriad dilapidated shacks. They slipped into a rusting hovel, three women were waiting inside. Sensing her approaching fate, Aliyah began to cry. The eldest woman produced a razor blade, as the other two women forced her to the floor. They tied strips of material around her ankles to hold her legs apart. Excruciating pain engulfed Aliyah's young body. The mutilation continued, as her blood flowed to the sounds of the two wailing women holding her. It was a birthday Aliyah would never forget.


G J Reilly - Under Her Skin

www.gjreilly.co.uk

He took his needle and pushed it through her skin. It made a popping sound as it punctured.

Drawing the thread through and yanking on the gut to make sure the final stitch wouldn't slip, he thought about her while she was vibrant and alive.

Her skin was as supple then as it was now - soft and dark, with not a blemish in sight. She had been beautiful ... Was still beautiful.

He stood back to admire his work. And as he slipped her skin over his shoulders, he thanked his favourite reindeer for the winter gift she had given him.


Chris Walker - Romance is Dead?

http://www.chriswalkerbooks.com

Unusually, they had the park to themselves.

It was a serenely beautiful morning, too. She was contented; amazed that it had worked out so well. They lay together where the clump of woodland, burgeoning and brightly splashed with the caress of Spring, sprawled into the neat beds of grass.

Was this, she wondered, the right moment to make her intentions clear? The thrill of anticipation was an almost unbearable ecstasy.

She looked blissfully at the corpse. Its head was shattered; the fresh, spilled contents tantalising her so that she shivered.

"Let me slip into something more comfortable," said the boreworm.


Nick Gerrard - Madala

http://www.nickgerrard.com/

I met the Old man and his daughter, taking my Sunday stroll along the lake.

They were taking her to the witch doctor to cure her crazy dreams.

‘He will help.’

She was a little slow, I knew, but help?

After two weeks she returned but was more distant, and thinner.

Along the shoreline men fished, women pounded, children’s noses still leaked snot.

Anna ran away and floated among the villages. They searched high and deep.

After two weeks they found her, naked, sleeping with the wild dogs and a smile.

Once more she was returned to the doctor,s lair."


V.W. Singer - Night Hunt

www.vwsinger.com

Darkness mocks the eyes. Faint outlines of trees like witches' claws. Clouds of frozen breath. Echoing silence tickles the ear. The comforting weight of shield and blade in cold hands. Alone, but not. Death lurking in the blackness.

One step, then two. Leaves rustle on the ground. Is it the wind? Spectral shadows dance half seen. Movement in the dark. Shield rises and body turns, heart thundering loud. Nearly too late. Shining steel whispers by. Warm blood tickles the cheek, just below the eye. Body hunches, thighs tense. A grunt of effort as sword point strikes. I live, another dies.


Ken Magee - Newspaper Headlines

http://www.kenmageeauthor.com/

The first headline to catch my eye stated ‘UK is Slipping Down Global League Tables in Reading and Geography’. Apparently we’re languishing twenty places behind Estonia. It appears that few of our children would understand ‘languishing’ nor could they pinpoint Estonia on a map.

The next headline read ‘Overuse of Antibiotics is a Ticking Time Bomb’. Bacteria are cleverly adapting and becoming resistant to the drugs. The growing resistance poses a bigger danger to the nation than terrorism.

Depressed, I stopped reading, it seems our kids are getting dumber, bacteria are getting smarter… this is not going to end well.


Tony Spencer - The bubble gum tree

The bubble gum tree looked majestic, its brightly coloured globular fruits bearing the boughs to the ground.

On approach, the tree sensed our presence and, with loud creaking and cracking, it bore up those mighty boughs, lifting them as if unto its bosom, each enticing fruit held well out of the reach of any mortal man.

Out of that percussive cacophony boomed a voice, "Go Away!"

"But we have come so far, walked for weeks over the desert, can you spare a bagful or two?"

"No!"

"Then we'll return with bulldozers and chainsaws, if you don't."

"Yeah? Then blow me!"


Voinks (Val Portelli) - Fame at last

www.Voinks.Wordpress.com

People annoy me. Why can’t they leave me alone with the characters in my books?

There is no peace. I try to concentrate but hunger takes over, and I have to eat and

change my clothes when relatives hassle me.

Finally I lock the door, close the curtains and return to my creations.

Daily News: ‘Alerted by neighbours, police broke into the house and discovered the body of local author Joe Smith. A letter offering a film contract for the story he had been working on was amongst the unopened post, indicating he had been dead at least a week.’


Paula Harmon - Treasure

“Got any dragons want killing?” The Hero swung his jewelled sword.

“Not so’s you’d notice” The Landlord eyed gilt runes on the silver blade.

“Heard you did”

“Not one that wants killing.  He looks after us, we looks after him.”

Yokels.  Nice town though.  Underfloor heating even in the street.  The cellar’s trap door was warm under his boots.  Its handle glowed.

“What about when he’s hungry?”

“We feeds him.”

“Many virgins here?” sniggered the hero.

“Don’t like virgins.”

The hero was surprised: “What does he eat?”

“Nasty folk with treasure” said the Landlord, pulling the lever behind the bar.


Alyssa Flowers-Bouman - An Angelic Dance

www.ajflowers.org

You’re the first angel I’ve ever met. I never knew your wings would be gold. Do you enjoy ripping out a person’s soul, as you have done to me now?

You smile, and my heart breaks.

My time ends and the curtains draw closed.

The sudden lack of your presence blinds me. My eyes adjust to the drab and dusty room.

“Please, I can afford more,” I beg.

The angel consort takes my drink from the stand. “A silver only buys the small hourglass.” She points to the exquisite curved crystal. The sands had run out. “Only one per customer.”


Larry - The Fall

larrytornes.wordpress.com

A yellow and gold leaf floated imperceptibly toward the ground from the great Maple tree above.  Unbeknownst to all that walked on the path that beautiful fall day there was a small creature riding it as it gently fell through the air.  This creature came from somewhere else.  A viral parasitic creature microscopic in size  that would soon enter its host through the nasal cavity with only one goal in mind which was to create a perfect world for the rest of their kind by controlling all humans.  It is said this occurred on a beautiful fall day in 1886.


Hazel Meades - Domestics

http://www.meades.org

I’ve been here for a while now but you couldn’t care less. You watch my uncertain movements with disinterest and, as usual, I give you a wide berth.  I’ve seen your rage before. You left your marks on my sister, after all.

As I tiptoe towards the kitchen you twitch, lazy eyes focused on me. No one else is awake. I open the fridge door and try to ignore you but you prowl towards me. I sigh, knowing what you want.

I take out my slice of pudding and put it to one side.

Then I refill your milk bowl.


Allen Stroud - Red to Remember

http://www.allenstroud.com

A splash of red to remember. You all wear it as you sit in church, waiting for the bride. I am the odd one, the talking point that is not talked about. Each of you meets my gaze in greeting, but your eyes slip to my chest.

Is this how a woman amongst Sun readers feels?

It is cold here in November. It was cold then on muddy fields, in trenches, on ruined streets. We killed and they killed. No-one won, but many lost. Fools in suits sent and send the brave to war.

Who remembers that?

What has changed?


William Sutton - Another Face

www.william-sutton.co.uk

The boy laughs as we play. I cannot help but marvel at his lightness. Across the grass he hurtles, whirling at the ball full tilt, careless of gravity. His eyes widen to find himself tumbling, and he lands – flop – on his backside.

We begin laughing and we cannot stop. I ruffle his hair. I pull him upright. Off we go again, exulting in the matchless thwack of ball on foot, in the sunlight, in our own athletic grace, in the lush grass full of life and light.

But I turn away, reminded of another’s laughter, another face, faraway, long ago.


Rory Kenny - Revenge A Dish Best Served Hot

Perfection. I have finally finished roasting the meat.

I gaze at it, lick my lips, taking in the masterpiece, straight from the oven.

This meal will go down in history, or at least the local news.

I carve a piece and lay it on the plate. Juicy, sweet and tender, vegetables steam nearby.

Seasoning is the most important step.  I add the right amount of salt, pepper and Bisto best.

Fingers in, I cram chunks into my mouth. It feels succulent, it sends shrills down my spine, I chew, swallow, grab again.

God, I love the taste of human flesh.


Tracey Holmes - The Monster

The grey-skinned creature leaned towards Timothy, its dark soulless eyes glaring.

A layer of sweat formed on Timothy’s brow.

He was wounded. The monster had already clawed his face with a groping hand, but the worst was yet to come.

The creature lunged again, grabbing him by his shoulder its talon like fingers digging into flesh, drawing blood. It bared yellowed teeth and mouthed Timothy's name, its fetid breath made him gag, sticky mucus clung to the corners of its wrinkly skin.

He swallowed, he knew what was coming next.

"Go on love, give Grandma a kiss," his mother said.


jaguar - Flavoured Water

Our choice of words is like herbs to flavour our stock. Isn’t ninety percent of us water anyway? Flavoured water with subtle seasoning at the base.

So why had Ellen chosen to learn different languages? Was she tired of her own flavour? Did she think a sprinkling of Spanish or Italian would make her more interesting? She was fascinated by foreign languages, by their opaque meanings. There were so many people out there who lived their whole lives without saying a single word she could recognise.

But she could close strangers’ conversations with words like knives slicing their meanings open.


Katja Leitgeb - Sensational

"Germany's wall building runs uninterrupted."

Next.

"War hero safely returns home."

Next.

"Click HERE to find out how to naturally enlarge your penis!"

I don't have a penis. Next.

"You won't believe your eyes! Watch this video to..."

To waste yet another eight minutes of your life. Next.

"Who is REALLY stealing our tax money?!"

Whoever paid for this crapfest. Next.

"Opinions: How to effectively battle gender discrimination." OK. Click.

"I'm not sexist but..."

No. But nothing. Nothing good ever comes after this and we both know it, you ignorant asshole.

Maybe it'll be the next one.

Shigh. Maybe.

Next.


Floyd Looney - Top Prize at the Festival

http://flscifi.blogspot.com

Come one, come all, the festival commences!

There is food and games to be had before the big lottery draw. All the young bachelors in town are participating. (Well it is mandatory).

Dana kept her head low, chained to the stage like some show animal. Orphaned years ago they had trained her to be a good girl, a good wife and mother. Now here she was at the big festival, as the top prize in the lottery. Healthy girls were rare, healthy, pretty and well trained attracted all the gawkers to see which local hick gets to be her husband.


Melvin Cliffford Wallace III/B27321 - A Hundred Words

https://inkandironheroicfantasy.wordpress.com/

A Hundred Words It Must Be you Said To me.

What to Pull From my Head to Fill This Thread.

Since Word Count Is Pressed Upon Thee,

Thy Enemy.

Let’s See What Will Flee From This Starving Mind.

Story Time

& I Can Not Find a Thing to Fill This Blank Page.

I Try to Rhyme Making It Harder Still.

Hoping the Flow Will Help me To the Goal,

Still my Skill Falters

& a Hundred Words Looms Like a Prison Gate.

I Roll my Shoulders, Crack my Neck & Smile.

Glad to See I Still Got What It Takes.


Beverley Carron - The Festival of Drabbles Drabble 2015

http://beverleycarron.blogspot.co.uk

My secret double life takes me to seedy dives and distant shores to battle with demons. From squirming squalor to soaring free in turquoise skies.  I lose myself in other realities. The pain and mundanity of life ceases to exist.

I'm a scuttling sewer rat gnawing on opals in the Earth's bowels. Time stops whilst I ride on wings of talking seagulls. Or rejoice in reliving childhood Christmases with Marley's Ghost.

It isn't just in novels that I lead this double life, but in stolen moments too. When Drabbles, 100 word, exactly, stories forever change how I experience the world.


Suzanne Joshi - Bottles

https://patriciaruthsusan.wordpress.com

Grandma Fig collected frosted bottles of all shapes and sized. Before dying, she asked for her granddaughter, Amaseena.

"Amaseena," she whispered, "don't take lids off the bottles. If there's a serious drought, you can remove the lid of the large blue bottle."

Since then, Amaseena, had been afraid of the bottles. The contents were murky, but at night eyes seemed to be peering out, except for the large, mysterious blue bottle.

A year came when there was a great drought. Amaseena took courage and got down the blue bottle. She carefully removed the lid, and it rained for one month.


Jonathan  - Me and You

www.jhillwriter.com

Go out with me.

Treat me.

Kiss me.

Make love to me.

See me.

Spend time with me.

Kiss me.

Make love to me.

Love me.

Live with me.

Marry me.

Spend your life with me.

Make love to me.

Holiday with me.

Dream with me.

Make love to me.

Come to the doctor with me.

Hold me.

Kiss me.

Make love to me.

Hold me.

Be patient with me.

Don’t cry for me.

Sit with me.

Reflect with me.

Hold me.

Just be there for me.

Hold me.

Lie with me.

Hold me.

Hold me.

Hold me.

Kill me.


Dina A. leacock - Snow Covered Wishes

dinaleacock.com

Eric stood graveside as the snow drifted down. "I miss you Dorothy. I wish you hadn't left me," he sobbed and turned to leave.

"I know,"" she said from behind him. "I miss you too."

Eric spun around and there she was, floating above the fresh, snow-covered, mound of dirt. He reached out and she rushed into his arms, They clung to one another.

Eric kissed her cold cheek, " I'm so glad we're together again."

She stared at him with unblinking eyes and agreed.

"Forever!" she said and sank beneath the mounded earth, Eric still tight in her arms.


David Wailing - Review

http://www.davidwailing.com

5 stars: I’m gushing with praise about this book to keep my author friend happy! She doesn’t need to know I never read it.

4 stars: Boring book, but need to appear positive if I want to become a Vine Voice.

3 stars: Posting this under a fake account will make all the other reviews I wrote look genuine.

2 stars: I hate other authors! This one’s more talented then me so I’m going to drag her down!

1 star: As a troll, I just love shitting on other people’s work and spreading misery.

Amazon Honesty Filter beta-test 5.21 – PASS.


Francine - Vampire Girl is back

Hey, remember me, folks? The runaway girl from my mafia like father? I've been in hiding all last year with all sorts of weirdos, even a unicorn. I guess I fit right in.

It's Halloween. My human friend Kathy and I venture outside. With all these costumed people, we take the risk of being seen..

I hope nobody will recognise me and grass on me to my irate dad and Count Whatshisname, my supposed betrothed. I'm tired of being on the run.

After all, a vegetarian Vampire Teen suffering from Hemophobia and Nyctophobia shouldn't be partying next to the Dursleys.


Karen Rollason - Battle Hungry

http://flashfactor1.blogspot.co.uk/

The inmates grapple over the weapon.  Hands clutch, nails tear, tongues quarrel.  Fired up in a desperate bid for supremacy amongst their fellow men.  Blinkered in their own goals.

They tug, they pull,  each aware that unrestrained hands could change the night’s fate.  The butt of the weapon tantalising the heel of a palm, the desire of each individual. The weapon falls to the floor.  A blast of noise ricochets off the bare walls. Strobe lights dazzle.

Bodies lurch forward.  Their own needs greater than that of others. The battle is vicious, each hungry for control of the television remote.


Paul Huggins - Ghost hunt

www.paulshuggins.co.uk

I crept around the abandoned mansion, following an impromptu amateur ghost hunt, in an allegedly haunted house. The girls screamed at an ear piercing pitch and the men stifled their own, equally girlish cries, to save face i understand.

Every corner held shadows and mystery. A bottomless chair, a stained folded mattress, a broken toilet bowl, they all cast animate shadows that danced in the torch light.

I kept to the rear, not scared, never screaming. I followed, amused by the party.

I leaned in close, unbeknownst to the trailing hunter. Just one whisper and the panic will boil over.


Riham Adly - The Heart.

Carla planted a kiss on the frubber skin of her F-26MXI android prototype.

"How will I live without you Frank?" She whispered as her fingers caressed the androids face. The black claws of death had snatched her husband away in that horrendous car crash early this morning.

Carla felt her heart speared through with a blunt knife. She stared at their shared project, a look of madness in her eyes.

"He doesn't have your smile, or your scent. We'll never make love again, but he'll have your heart."

Her ungloved hands, now blood-stained, reached for the organ in the box.


Michael Barbato-Dunn - Reflex

https://michaelbarbatodunn.wordpress.com/

His supervisors at the Centers for Disease Control said only he — with steady hands, solid nerves, absolute control of reflexes — was capable of the task.  He grinned.

The strain that had killed millions had been identified, isolated, reduced.  He was to transfer the remaining drops to a vial that would be sealed and locked away, vault within vault.

But the supervisors had not foreseen the wisp of dust that floated under his contagion mask and settled into his right nostril at the very moment of the transfer.

That’s the thing about reflexes, he thought as he sneezed.  Ultimately, they’re autonomic.


Jonathan Royan - Enduring

A fairy doesn't live for long. 700 years or so. The enduring rivers watched them fade and die. The mountain range barely notices their existence at all.

The fairy queen wanted to live forever. In stories and legend, if not in body. Appearing to humans had sparked wondrous tales that were retold by humans, generation to generation. But they too faded into nothing. Portraits flaked, statues crumbled. She tried to start her own religion. But it was forgotten. She was the last you see.

She died in the autumn on the river bank at the foot of the mountain range.

Clare Marsh - Catastrophe                    

"After Betty’s death a reluctant truce developed between Alf and her cat. But now Jasper has dried food, not the chopped liver he carefully trained the old lady to hand-feed him.

Piteous yowling summons Alf into the midnight blizzard. ‘I’m not dressed for this,’ he mutters, stepping out.

A sleek black form insinuates itself around his legs.

‘You’ll have me over,’ Alf shouts. He slips. Pain detonates. Snow rapidly enshrouds him. The cat dabs a testing paw at Alf’s frozen cheek.

‘Help me,’ Alf croaks.

Tail twitching, Jasper just stalks inside - then springs onto Alf’s chair by the fire."