Worthing Flash

  I knew something was amiss when my six-year-old daughter Sara fixed herself a bowl of Cap’n Crunch and dropped a chocolate Pop-Tart in the toaster. “You’re hungrier than usual,” I said. “Sabrina’s tired of cereal,” Sara said. “ Who? ” “My new friend.” “What new friend?” I asked, looking at the door. Sara put her bowl on the table with a napkin and spoon. Then she put the Pop-Tart on a plate, placing it next to her with a napkin, knife, and fork. While I packed her lunch of a PBJ and apple, I heard her giggle. “What’s so funny?” I asked. “Sabrina. She’s making squares of her tart.” There were ten tiny squares (really rectangles), two across and five down. After closing my daughter’s Hello Kitty lunch box, I turned around and the partitioned Pop-Tart was gone. “Don’t forget to make her a sandwich too,” Sara said and left for the bathroom, whispering behind her hand. I was a single mom. Shortly after Sara’s dad died in a car accident, Sabrina sh...

by William Kitcher Radios crackled from Corpus Christi to Iqaluit as the announcer began. “Hello, baseball fans and radio listeners all across the U.S. of A., and on ships at sea, and those places in Canada that have radios. This is your roving reporter, Mutt Singleton, coming to you from New York City, and what a great treat we have in store for you. This program is brought to you by the First National Bank of Syracuse where our motto on deposits is: ‘You put it in, and you take it out when you’re satisfied.’ Ladies and gentlemen, what an honor it is for me to tell you that Babe Ruth, the Bambino, The Sultan of Swat, the Monarch of Mash, the King of Crush, is returning to St. Jude’s Hospital, where little Billy Johnson has no idea that the Babe is coming back to visit him after promising to hit a home run for him, and delivering on that promise. Yes, St. Jude’s Hospital, named after the patron saint of lost causes. And here are Babe and one of the beautiful nurses at the doo...

  Meghashri Dalvi Removing the headgear, Janine walked to the kitchen. A few packets were lying around, along with some stale-looking food trays. She randomly picked one tray and microwaved it. Ignoring the heaps of laundry lying around, she gulped the meal down quickly, eyes barely registering the peeling paint and worn-out furniture. Headgear swiftly back on, Janine returned to the palace. Shiny interiors, velvet curtains, stuffed chairs. Pearls. Tiara. Uniformed helpers moving around, ready to fulfil her every whim. Her silk dress rustled as she got up from the beautiful divan and walked daintily to the mirror. Janine was the princess again.       

Half-open eyes confirmed it was daylight outside. Inhaling deeply of the new day, Alex smiled and stretched head-to-toe like a cat. Cramp! Too late, toes pulled back and heels extended. Pain in the left calf eased, but the other tightened as muscles in the foot threatened to join in. Alex rolled, careful not to disturb the sleeper, and sat on the edge of the bed to try the leg before standing. Teeth brushed, Alex returned from the bathroom. The bed’s other occupant was awake now. Blue eyes creased at the outside edges when they smiled. Nice eyes: clear. Alex hadn't registered their colour in the half-lit hall when they were exchanging histories, although they stood eye-to-eye for height. They'd skimmed lightly over Chris's fatal accident – two years ago now – and the other's messy divorce. The smallest bridesmaid had bumped into them. Looking up, she asked, "How tall are you?" and was told, "I haven't measured myself lately." Alex had la...

There was absolute silence in the bar for a second or so and then people were screaming and diving for cover; the general panic was understandable as I had just shot dead one of their number. But I suspected that for most of them, violence was not exactly unusual. Then one of men came lurching towards me; I levelled the gun at him. “ Don’t even think about it, mate,” I said. Fortunately he stopped; I was relieved as I had no wish to kill him as well. I left the pub and glanced around. It seemed clear so I whipped off my black anorak and stuffed it in my back-pack. I set off to walk to the tube station. I walked briskly but not so quickly as to draw attention to myself. It was only five mins walk; I knew that as I had done it the day before but I leave nothing to chance. Soon I could see the familiar underground logo. I ducked down a side street; once again it was clear. I took off my dark sweater leaving me down to my white shirt and also my plain glass spectacles and my wig. I smi...