Worthing Flash

Cathy Cade Griller scrambled over the top of the skip and landed beside Shorty on the flattened cardboard that topped the pile of rubbish. Footsteps pounded along the alley, returning slowly. Blue lights strobing above them slowly moved away, and the alley was quiet apart from the scurrying of rats. Griller whispered, “That were close, Shorty.” As he struggled to sit up, his chunky frame sank further into the pile. Bits of scrap splashed into water at the bottom of the skip sending up a waft of rotting vegetables. Shorty took out a pack of cigarette papers and fashioned a lean roll-up. “At least we got a good haul of phones.” “Err…” “Come on, Griller. I passed you ’arf a dozen I lifted from them carol singers. What’ve you done wiv ’em?” “I put ’em in the backpack, Shorty. Like you said.” Shorty grabbed the bag. “It’s empty!” “I think they come out when I landed in the skip.” Shorty closed his eyes. Their lids were twitching, but as he took a deep drag of the roll-up...

"Mum, I need money for the bus." Dorothy dried another mug. "No you don't, Toby. It isn't raining; and the walk's good for you." "I don't want to walk past that old cottage. There's a witch moved in with a warty nose and a black cat." “That’s nice.” She put away the last mug and closed the cupboard. "Did you stroke it?" "It spat at me. Billy says it scratched Jason and he threw a stone at it and nobody's seen him since." She folded the tea towel. "He probably has a cold." "Billy knocked for him. When his mum opened the door a frog hopped in from behind him and she screamed." Silly cow. "Billy thinks it was Jason." Dorothy turned. "You're too old to believe in witches turning people into frogs. Go; you'll be late." That afternoon she heard a bump outside and checked the clock. After a moment there was another bump. "Is that you, Toby? Don’t tell ...

‘Turn around when possible.’ It was a widescreen SatNav, but he relied on Jane’s calm voice to guide them. He’d invested in the device after Rudolph got them lost last year over Papua New Guinea – the old boy was losing his sense of navigation. Jane didn’t understand about flight paths. She had guided them into Gatwick’s flight paths. Time was, he used to prepare his route beforehand, but he’d come to rely too much on Rudolph. He would have to circle and come in closer to the rooftops. They should still clear the Shetlands before daybreak though. They touched down on the first roof of the village and a loose tile skittered to the ground. While Rudolph held the sleigh steady, he made the delivery. Returning, he fell into the driving seat. They must be making sherry stronger these days. He banished an unwelcome vision of his doctor frowning. North of Hadrian’s Wall, port and sherry had given way to good Scotch whisky. Weary now, he squinted at the SatNav, struggling to focu...

The dogs barked at the door. Dusk was gathering early, now the clocks had changed. Out here, in the middle of fields, I didn’t get trick-or-treaters. The two youngsters living up the drove didn’t bother dressing up for our few terraced houses. I shouted at the dogs to stop barking and sought treats to offer. There wasn’t even a biscuit in the house. When I lived in the suburbs, I’d always bought in supplies of sweets for Halloween to reduce the risk of having eggs thrown at the door. It didn’t always work, but I drew the line at encouraging extortion by handing out coins. I remembered I’d emptied the last of my small change into the Poppy collection box at the newsagent. The barking didn’t put off our callers who rang the doorbell again. Too late, now, to pretend I wasn’t here. I shut the dogs in the living room and opened the door on two shadowy figures, reminding me I had yet to replace the porch light bulb. Before my eyes materialised a copy of the Watchtower. ‘Are you co...

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...

  Coming Back She woke up when her car hit the tree. The world was a blur, viewed from somewhere far behind her eyes. Beyond the windscreen, a single beam reached out into darkness. Reaching for the handbrake, she used it to drag herself upright, wincing as she straightened. She shouldn’t have left Alec’s so late – shouldn’t even have gone in when she dropped him home. It wasn’t as if she liked him… much. She’d fancied him rotten back then, but she never could trust him. Not like her Matt. She reached to turn off the ignition and gasped as agony speared her shoulder. Pain gripped the ankle that had moved to the accelerator. She must call 999. Thank heavens she’d stuck to fruit juice at the reunion. Not that sobriety had held her back. Her phone was in her bag in the passenger footwell. She reached… She’d try again when her head stopped pounding. Her hand went to her forehead and met sticky dampness. The lights of a car passed the T-junction ahead. Its driver had...

Semi-conscious, she turns, feeling the comforting warmth of Smudge against her leg. Her husband didn't approve of pets on the bed, but Joe's been gone two years now.  Her sleepy stretch is mirrored by Smudge's soft paws pushing against her through the duvet. Joe didn't think pets should live indoors at all, but Smudge was tolerated to frighten mice away. If a mouse did get in, Smudge would let them know and guard it's exit from the stair cupboard until it made a mistake and the trap got it. The image of the lifeless mouse drifts with her into drugged sleep. There it morphs into Smudge; a limp scrap of fur at the side of the road. Her stomach clenches again with grief at the memory. The soft creature on her duvet rests its head on her leg. Now fully awake, she stares into the darkness, heartbeat pounding in her throat. www.cathy-cade.com www.facebook.com/cathycade.wordsmith https://www.goodreads.com/cathycade

'A six-month vacancy has arisen for a Funeral Administrator, working as part of a team to carry out funeral arrangements for clients within the funeral home or at the client's premises. A flexible approach to working hours is required.' Skills required were unspecified. Since I had none, according to my last employer, this seemed an ideal opportunity to earn my fare to New York. Interview questions were, 'Can you drive?' and 'Are you willing to work evenings?' – thankfully, no nonsense about religion or afterlife. I was the only applicant. Rattle and Croak Funeral Directors were often called out at odd hours to collect a body, but that was better than listening to Ma complaining – mostly about my father, who was never named, and about my failure to improve our lot. I didn't socialise. Morgan had been the love of my life; I wouldn't risk love again. I worked with Croak more than Rattle, who preferred to deal with the cust...

Prey Cathy Cade She runs for her life. Sanctuary is in sight, and she has a clear run along the woodland path. So does he. He appeared from nowhere, but she had known he was in the area. She must be losing her edge, becoming careless. He is young, keen; his legs are longer. He is catching up. She veers into  undergrowth . Leaves scrunch as he changes direction too, but here, she has an advantage. Small and still nimble, she can slip under low branches. He crashes through or leaps over and is catching up. She changes direction again. When he pauses to listen, she can hear her own rustlings, but the turn has won her a few seconds. With his thundering progress again covering the sound of hers, he will need to watch for moving foliage. Two turns later she hasn’t lost him, and he is alert now for her diversions. Her heartbeat  patters  against her throat. She is no longer young, but panic keeps her running. Think! She zig-zags wildly before dropping b...