Posts

The Thing Is

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The Thing Is  He’d fallen out of love with his wife. His wife saw that he seemed to favor his stethoscope, the way it tickled his ears. Ears plugged with earpieces that stopped her questions full of words. Words dissolving like cotton candy in the mouth. The mouth having mulled over the word love.   Love was the very thing he no longer felt for her but it wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t her fault, so he would be careful not to hurt her on his way out. His way out included keeping the bad news from her for a while longer by sprinkling the word in conversation ─he loved her new perfume, loved the new haircut, loved her new stilettos (which he actually did love). Love became a syllable that stopped meaning what it had once meant, and he thought she might not notice.  Notice she did, however, and the feeling each one took for granted in the other did not take either so. So, holding the stethoscope to her husband’s heart, she tried to understand what it wanted. It wanted, p...

Mask of His Own

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Mask of His Own None of the masks on the wall of the costume shop would give anybody a hint of who was underneath, the man thought. The frog mask said only clowning amphibian. The crescent moon and the attached kitten head covered up enough to leave the person beneath a patchwork mystery. The captain and his tricorn hat told of a different age that suggested nobody who was now living. Up and down the wall, faces covered by diamonds of red, black, and white gave no clear idea of the figures they were meant to depict. The archetypes of Comedy and Tragedy plastered over individual features and extinguished them. A person would never be recognized in any of the different masks. The man looked then into the oval mirror set up for the shop customers. As he saw himself there surrounded by the masks on the wall, he wondered what his face would show anyone of who he was. Would they guess what he believed at heart? His receded hairline that revealed the shape of his head did not reveal...

Another Late Night Disturbance

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Another Late Night Disturbance Yelling and thuds from down the stairs woke me. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, my body rigid and my mind quick in considering the possibilities. Stranger? My brother? At a bit past midnight, a neighbor was unlikely. As I padded down the stairs, my eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness. I heard yelling again but couldn’t make out the words. I recognized the voice. It was my brother Nathan, Hebrew for “gift from God.” My hand closed around the nearest heavy object, a glass paperweight decorated with daisies. My fingers clenched, my stomach taut, I rushed outside toward the voices, toward the sound of slurs, the n word over and over. “ I am NOT your slave, ” my oldest brother yelled, stumbling a little as he said it, “You work me like a n-----.” His voice slurred the words, spit dripping down his chin. “ Watch your mouth. Watch how you talk to your mother.” Dad said. My parents stood opposite him, their wrinkles deepening, concern splashed a...

The Ravaged Orchard

The Ravaged Orchard In-between the trail zigzagging its way up to the High School and Lhemo's cottage, lies the fenced, lush green apple orchard. A city-bred boy, I had no idea about orchards like this one. Apples of all shapes and sizes; red, blackish red, light green and yellowish, the ones the locals call the "golden languor", can be found here. How surprised I was when one day, on my way back from school, I found a child playing football by plucking an apple from the small tree with its apple-laden branches bending down, almost caressing the ground! On holidays, I take my mattress out, spread it beneath the apple tree nearest to my room and sit down with a book in my hand. Chhimi, Lhemo’s pretty daughter, comes and sits by me. Despite our age difference of almost thirty years, she has become my friend. "Sir, have this." Stretching a golden languor forward to me, she exclaims. She often brings me a dish of ema datse, sag and even fish curry, made ...

What to do if you are arrested

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What to do if you are arrested Jamal went into Beckenham Police Station. He put what looked like a photo of himself on the desk. The desk sergeant smiled. He even called him "Sir". The photo was in fact the front cover of an information booklet which he had written. The book was entitled "What to do if you are arrested." It had been commissioned by Alice Biggs of the Beckenham Police PR department. Jamal went to his job at a supermarket after this. It was the very same supermarket which had prosecuted him for shoplifting the previous year. After his solicitor had successfully argued that the prosecution was a trumped-up charge invented by a racist floor manager they had had to let the floor manager go and they accepted Jamal’s application for a job. It was the lowliest job in the store and he’d been told in no uncertain terms that he was not shortlisted for promotion or longlisted or indeed listed. “ Jamal , this aisle needs tidying up if you think ...

Everyone who participated in the 100-word challenge

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You might like to consider https://drablr.com/story/new All of the stories are exactly 100-words in length. They are called drabbles but don't let that put you off.  You need to register with drablr but it will create a whole new audience for your story.   

Two winners

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There have been a lot of very good entries for the challenge this year so I have chosen two winners. Heather Turnbull for "Earl Grey Not" https://worthingflash.blogspot.com/2026/09/earl-grey-not.html  Linda Gunther https://worthingflash.blogspot.com/2026/09/the-talk.html The prize is a copy of "Tales of Nether Sodbury".