Worthing Flash

Welcome to the castle, pour a coffee, take a seat, Everyone’s suspicious, and most have got cold feet Traitor’s in the turret, hooded drama all the way Murder comes at midnight, so it’s a normal day   There’s a shield, and there’s a dagger, there’s a whisper in the hall Someone swore on grannies life, they’re a Faithful after all “I’m 100%, faithful” they say with nervous laugh, Which is exactly how we know, they’re planning traitorous stuff   Ok now let the game begin, I’ll go with her, you go with him Who’s a Traitor? Who’s a friend? We’ll decide and then pretend Were we right then from the start, has paranoia played its part? Pass the blame, and act dismayed, swear you knew, but were betrayed   Round table starts the evening, so cue dramatic pause Then someone clears their throat, like they’re defending a great cause “I don’t have any proof,” they say, “but I’ll say it anyway” “I just a got that feeling when you breathed in that stra...

Reindeer on the Rooftop Ho-ho ho, now hold on…Santa’s in a mess! Delivering toys this time of year can really give you stress   Santa’s sleigh was Christmas-cruising through the frosty skies When Rudolph’s nose blinked red and that is when the SatNav died Dasher starts complaining saying, look the maps won’t load, While Prancer’s on his tablet setting to low-power mode Santa phones the North Pole, saying “Help we’ve got a glitch!” And Elves shout “You need WIFI, so turn on the router switch!”   Every rooftop signal bounces off the snow Now Santa doesn’t know which way the sleigh should go   Reindeer on the rooftop are freaking out tonight Now Santa needs to send the toys, without the satellite Spinning around in circles at midnight in the sky Cause Prancer’s failed to log the Boss into sleigh’s Wi-Fi Santa shouts “Re-boot! Re-boot well this is just insane!” While Elves shout “Turn the router off, then turn it on again”   Snow...

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

The Message He picked up the phone and looked at the keys And called up the message she sent She sung him a song maybe five seconds long And he knew soon what every word meant   “I’ve something to tell you please wait there for me” Was the only part he could hear He waited alone until later that day When the song and the message came clear   He picked up the phone and looked at the keys A year troubled by that strange song So he pushed the key that was written “Delete” Thinking now it was time to move on by Don McBeth

He looked down towards the fish and realised that he hadn’t had a bite all day. Still only another thirty minutes and he could go home. He gently moved his arm back and forth, back and forth, watching the endless ripples circle ever outwards. At last he swung his arm upwards, and hoisting a fish aloft, he shook it and watched the drips gently cascade down into the dark pool beneath. He placed the fish neatly on some paper and looked at the woman standing in front of him. "Any salt and vinegar on the chips madam"?  Don McBeth  

His heart was racing; he was sweating in the heat. The serene look on his face belied the inner anguish he felt. He looked again at the clock, the tension almost palpable, the end was so near. Suddenly he raised his hand and pointed in shock, he tried to speak but his dry throat prevented the words. Surely that cannot be. Finally he screamed NO. The look of dismay came over his face. It was obviously off side. Surely the goal cannot stand, but NO, the final whistle, that means another four years, for a go at the World Cup.           Don McBeth    

Joseph was 13, and today was his Bar Mitzvah, today he became a man, today he became responsible for his own actions, today was the eve of c, and today yet again, he was told to be quiet. The Rabbi began reciting the Kol Nidre in hushed tones. His family mouthed the words not daring to speak, repenting all unfulfilled vows, oaths, and promises made to God during the past year, asking forgiveness, so as to enter cleansed into the New Year. Joseph woke early the next day. There was no Yom Kippur breakfast, and like yesterday there would be no food that day or the next, but Joseph was a man now and he was now responsible for helping to feed his family. He lifted the wooden shutter and squeezed his small body into the alleyway beyond. Looking around he saw no one. He walked silently and swiftly along the narrow street keeping closely to the walls, then along the next and the next until he arrived at the market place. There was little on display, only meagre morsels matching the...

The heat was oppressive, the air was still, he thought of her in the rain. He walked further towards the bridge. Even in this heat he shivered as a small trickle of sweat ran down his back, and again he thought of her in the cold winter’s rain. What could he do, he was here, and she was there, both so far apart. He thought of her again and imagined her in nine hours. Where would she be? Would she be looking at the sky seeing what he was seeing now? He looked up into the black night sky, the stars shone and twinkled in the heat, and again his mind went back to her. He could now see the bridge clearly, mournfully, dark in the shadows, silhouetted against the light of the city. Suddenly the night was shattered by a thunderous roar that deafened his ears. An orange flash of light and flame erupted into the sky, and the bridge stood clear to see. The rocket soared majestically into the night sky with the brilliance of the sun, then another then another, until rockets seemed ...

  Words Three across “An African country”, seven letters? Oh that’s easy “Namibia”. But that would make five down four letters “A type of ancient musical instrument”, “Byre”, when it obviously “Lyre”; So it can’t be “Namibia” then can it! And it makes seven down, eight letters “Cattle thieves”, “Austlers” instead of “Rustlers”. You are just rubbish at this aren’t you, I don’t know why I ask you! Please don’t shout at me! I will shout at who I want! Oh...can’t we just have a cross word, without a cross word? .....Perhaps it’s “Senegal”! Shut up!! Don McBeth

Twas the night before Christmas and all hushed was the sound, Save the hooves of the reindeer pounding the ground In anticipation, for soon they would fly, In mystic formation through blackened night sky But something was different, something awry The sleigh still was empty though near time to fly, So Dasher, Dancer, and Comet now mused, And stood they confounded, befuddled, confused Yet Inside the house with elves by his chair Santa scanned lists of who, what and where, We must make delivery we must get it right, To circle the world, in only one night So Santa sat there in the dead of that night His warm face aglow all bathed in the light Of tiny bright candles, and each one a spot, Of ten billion atoms of colourful dots Now what shall I bring them to lighten their days To brighten their Christmas to strengthen their ways, And what did they ask for, in what will they thrill, I must get it right for their stockings to fi...

The sudden sensory deprivation was overwhelming. She gently raised her body, but attempting to walk, her feet stumbled first left, then right. Hitting an unseen object, her ankle now seared with pain, her arms and hands blindly flaying at the unrelenting darkness. Forward forwards she went, until her hand touched the small door under the stairs. Reaching fearfully inside, her fingertips caressed each raised protrusion. At last there is was, her thumb gently pushed the fuse switch upwards, and once and again the house was bathed in light; but the damage was done, she had missed the end of Eastenders. Don McBeth This 100-word story was originally written for a Daily Mail competition.