Worthing Flash

Pieces of Eight is a small publication with a handful of members. Membership involves writing something every month - flash fiction or poetry mainly. The person to contact is Heather Turnbull <heatheroo@outlook.com> You do not need to be a parrot or a pirate to apply.

MATEO & MARIA by Indian author RAJAN V KOKKURI     “Love is an irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired” -Robert Frost”   Mateo was born in a family having poor income in a distant Romanian beautiful village in Transylvania. Romania had a communist government during that time, and all teens were required to serve in the army for a minimum of 16 months.   Mateo also joined army and was serving in Vrancea County in southern part of Romania. It was March 4th, 1977. He went to a cloth store in the downtown of Vrancea to purchase a shawl. When Mateo walked into the store, he noticed a gorgeous girl organizing the garments on the shelf. Mateo said, "Hello, I want to buy a shawl". She took out a bundle of finely handmade shawls from the shelf.  While she was pulling the shawl, he didn’t forget to ask her name. “My name is Maria”.   While she was taking the material out of the wooden cabinet, the floor and cabinet moved noticeably....

Rathin Bhattacharjee  What Made Tamoshi Let Out The Secret?  Tamoshi's lifelong desire was to light up the faces and lives of the people she loved. Right after her marriage, she started pestering Partho, who till then, was happy earning his monthly income from the shop in posh New Market, held jointly in the name of his uncle and widowed mother. Tamoshi had always dreamt of marrying a banker, especially after her trip to the sea resort, Puri, with her brother. The palatial house they stayed in near the sea beach, made her decide to get married to a banker as the owner was a retired banker. Besides, she had learnt from her brother that the house rent for the SBI employees vacationing anywhere in India was quite cheap.  Partho finally sat for the clerical examination conducted by the bank and got through both the written and viva test. He flunked the typing test though. It was a case of 'so near yet so far'! When Partho, by nature superstitious, got through the tests for re...

"Clive, you remember that article I wrote about female priests?" "Darling," Clive sighed, "I could hardly forget it now could I?" "Well since I wrote it, I have had a troll." "A Nordic monster who lives under bridges?" "A monster certainly. This one follows me on social media and has said the most ghastly things. He says that I am obviously a frustrated spinster who needs a good seeing-to." "And then he threatened my life." "Ah. Have you consulted the police." "They traced the IP address." "The what?" "It tells them which computer the messages come from. It's yours, Clive." "The police would like a word." The End Derek McMillan is a writer in Durrington in the UK. His editor is his wife, Angela. He has written for print and online publications in the UK, USA, Australia and Canada. His latest book is the audio...

My 5th book release is planned for 31st Oct by Google Meet / Facebook live & Physical book release in Muscat on 1st November 2025 *BORN TO DREAM Edition 2* Author Rajan V Kokkuri  (untold story of BPL & it's 3 founders) AMAZON (Delivery of the book in India) https://amzn.in/d/473TeNO E book buying Link from anywhere thru KINDLE https://amzn.in/d/fb5Mqwa

The message He picked up his phone and looked at the keys And he called up the message she sent She has sung him a song maybe five seconds long And he knew now what every word meant “ I’ve something to tell you please wait there for me” Was the only part that he could hear He had waited alone until later that day When the songs and the message came clear Now he sat there for minutes reflecting their fate Was it really a year since she’d gone Perhaps it was better that she went away Perhaps now she could finish that song He picked up the phone and looked at the keys He had cherished that message to long So he pushed the key that was written “Delete” Thinking now it was time to move on by Don McBeth