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Heatwave

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Heatwave A heatwave can be defined in many ways depending on where it occurs. In essence, if the temperature rises above normal for a certain period of days this is considered a heatwave. She classed it a heatwave as it was the third day in a row when the fan she had borrowed from her sister stopped doing what it should. Right in the middle of the afternoon. The apartment was airless. The heat rose from the street like a spirit wangling its way up and teasing through the stairways. She turned back from her balcony in disgust. The novelty of the unexpected weather eaten away by the lack of sleep and remorseless discomfort. It had hit with little warning on the Monday and now on Thursday evening, it was unbearable. She pinched her brow with her thumb and forefinger. The skin, dry, despite copious amounts of water, gulped from early morning. She pictured herself as a camel. She wondered what he was doing now. After reading an article on athletes who need to recover qui...
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Prayer for My Father

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Prayer for My Father After the death of a parent, some observant Jews follow the mourning tradition of avelut, which involves going to the synagogue every day for eleven months, to say the prayer for the dead. After my father died, I wanted to honor his death by committing myself to go to temple every day to say the kaddish. The kaddish is the prayer for the dead, but it never mentions the dead. It is just another thank you prayer to a very needy and uncaring god. I went to one Saturday service, but the rituals and language felt so alien to me that I never went back.  The time in that musty old, stucco Palm Springs temple left me feeling totally disconnected from my father and my heritage. And yet I had a strong urge to memorialize my father in some manner. On my way home I drove by a desert swap meet that my father had visited many years ago and talked about until the day he could no longer speak. I parked in the sandy lot and went looking for a particular vendor. My father ...
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Awkward Customer

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Originally published in Anti-SF which is short for Antipodean Science Fiction Awkward Customer By Derek McMillan “A black coffee, please.” “Can I get you anything to eat?” “Well, I would quite like your liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti.” Marie looked at the customer and decided he was probably joking. “I can do you a tongue sandwich,” she replied and he settled for that. He was the only customer in Dewhurst’s cafe at the time and she got chatting with him for want of anything better to do. “I ain’t seen yer around here, have I?” “Well, no. I’m new in town. I’m looking for work if you’re short.” Marie Dewhurst was 4ft 6 inches tall, or 1371 millimetres if you’re feeling continental. Irritatingly she was actually short of staff so Paul Aldridge (for such was his name) ended up with a job in the cafe on a trial basis. There were usually a few customers in the cafe at any one time so the first time Paul was serving — and there was only one customer — was when Daniel Barker cam...
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'The Anatomy of an Award'

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'The Anatomy of an Award' While scrolling through messages in a common group we both belonged to, I paused at a photograph of her receiving an award, beaming in a silken saree, with the person giving the award appearing more grateful than the one receiving it. Behind them stood the bespectacled, turban clad Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan. The stage felt disproportionately large with just two occupants, as the MOC tucked into a corner urged an unseen audience to offer a resounding round of applause- the thunder echoing even without a single pair of hands in sight. A tap later, a stream of congratulatory messages followed. Drawn in by the moment, I added mine too. There are reasons to feel proud if one’s head of the institution is felicitated with such deafening applause, as seen in the video, and with such generous remarks as read in the endless reactions to this wonderful news. At the same time, I felt a quiet sadness that I could not see what others so clearly did- in fact, what mo...
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Mister Bunny And $88.01

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 I was lying on the couch, waiting for the air conditioning to kick in and dozing off due to the heat, a hangover, and disinterest in the ballgame on TV because the Jays were pummeling the Yankees for the third day in a row. My cat Henry was napping on my chest, and we were both startled awake by my apartment buzzer. No one ever buzzes my apartment. People call first. Actually, no one ever comes to my apartment. I meet people outside. I staggered to the buzzer. “Hello?” “Is this James Yates?” “Yeah. Who’s this?” “Police.” Police? What the... “How can I help you?” “Can we come in?” “How do I know you’re the police?” Silence. “Hold on,” I said. “I’ll come down.” I pulled on a t-shirt and went downstairs. Sure enough, it was the cops. Two uniforms, one plain clothes. I assumed the plain clothes was a cop because she did all the talking. She introduced the three of them by name but I didn’t really pay attention. Looking at her notes, she said, “Where we...
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Mouse

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Mouse The winter he found the mouse, Carl changed from an unhappy boy into a miserable one. He’d discovered the corpse when reaching into the caddy for a biscuit. Instead of a crumble cream, he’d pulled out a dead rodent. The tail had dangled from his fingers like string. He hadn’t known whether to laugh or cry. Now Carl listens to his favourite Puccini opera with Goro the cat on his knee. Goro hasn’t caught a mouse in years. Carl remembers how his fear gave way to sadness after he found the mouse. He reads the libretto notes on the sleeve, and thinks sorrow seldom transitions to joy. He visualises the animal’s mummified body, and he’s back in the house where he lived as a six-years-old child. Carl had stepped out of the pantry and shown the creature to his mother. He thought she’d know what to do. Mother saw the mouse, filled her red hands with bunches of white cotton from her apron and screamed. What is that, you disgusting boy? Carl had dropped the mouse’s body, fled fro...
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If Wishes Were Frogs…

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This is the first one-act play ever published in #worthingflash Anyone who wishes to perform it, is welcome to do so. If Wishes Were Frogs … A Play in One Act ( Which may be performed as either a drama or a comedy) CAST In Order of Appearance A Young Woman A Young Man The action takes place on a riverbank in “once upon a time”. At Rise of Curtain, the WOMAN is kneeling by the river, washing clothes. She times her words to fit in as she works. WOMAN: I will not be unhappy. I will marry the ugly, old man that my father wants me to marry. I will bake his bread and bear his children. I will not be ungrateful for the chance to live a respectable and useful life. ( She sighs.) It’s just that I feel I could do so much better! The Man enters behind the WOMAN, but stops far enough away that the WOMAN would not be able to hear him. The WOMAN continues her washing. MAN: There she is! The maiden I have been searching for all my life! Now I must take her away to...
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