Worthing Flash

“Steve… Steve…Steve…” Steve opened his eyes and saw beige canvas. Oh, yes, he was taking time out from his work as an environmental biologist to assist his uncle, a renowned palaeontologist, on his latest dig. Uncle John had high hopes for the bones they had started to uncover yesterday. “Steve…” His eyes travelled around until they focused on what was standing beside his sleeping bag. No, he wasn’t awake yet; he was still dreaming. A very small dinosaur was there in the tent with him. And it was calling him by name! “Steve, pay attention! This is very important day for both of us. Although your uncle thinks I’m a dinosaur, I’m actually a dragon.” The apparition carefully unfurled its wings and let a brief puff of smoke out of its nose. “See?” “This is the best dream I’ve had in a long time! Do tell me more.” “You’re not dreaming, Steve, you’re awake and I’m the ghost of the dragon whose bones you and your uncle started to dig up yesterday. I died here a long time ag...

Herman was hand-raised and released into the wild. It had been another case of humans swarming over a planet and decimating nearly all of its fauna before they realised the ecosystem was out of balance. Now Herman felt the inner movement of protoplasm that meant it was time to reproduce. Soon two smaller, amoeba-like bodies would go their separate ways. But something was missing. Slowly Herman shape-changed into the form of his human carer and picked up the item he had smuggled out after seeing Matt use it so often. “Playboy Magazine” fell open to the centrefold and Herman began. Susan Cornford is a retired public servant, living in Perth, Western Australia. She/her has most recently had pieces published or forthcoming in 2024 Anthology Invasion of the Saucer-Men From Mars! 42 Stories Anthology Presents: Book of 42, Arzono Publishing Presents The 2023 Annual, Banksia Journal, Metastellar, Stupefying Stories, The Suburban Review Hills Hoist V. 3 and WELL READ.

by Susan Cornford I hunt at night, like an owl, finding my prey in the darkness. It is not evil, as some people would like to think, but only a matter of meeting my needs. This is the wisdom of natural, accumulated lore. Slowly I walk down a side street in half-light, my acute sight and hearing alert. It is late but a long time until morning. I know there will be someone who will be leaving a party or taking a shortcut; I have stalked here before. The click of stilettos on concrete, an unsteady rhythm, is now coming closer. A doorway enfolds me. Soon she makes her way past me and I can make out alternating pale and dark stripes on her top; she is a chipmunk! My laughter is swallowed and bubbles inside me like soda. Pursuit begins as she stumbles, fumbling her phone from her pocket and speaking. ‘Jason? Please pick up, Jason. I’m sorry. I’m lost somewhere and I need you to come and pick me up. I’ll look for a street sign. I don’t know how I got here. I drank too much at that p...

They had made love quite gently since they were so newly married and she had been a virgin. It could be that, even now, this first attempt might create life. And it was needed to replace the one he’d violently, deliberately destroyed, however much a necessary evil. He had not wanted death to solve the problem but accepted in the end that nothing lesser would suffice. He watched his young bride’s peaceful slumber afterwards and smoothed the dampened hair back from her face. King Henry so much hoped he wouldn’t need to murder any further wives to get a son.   by Susan Cornford   Susan Cornford is a retired public servant, living in Perth, Western Australia. She/her has pieces published or forthcoming in Across the Margin, Adelaide Literary Magazine, Antipodean Science Fiction, borrowed solace, Cafe Lit, Crow’s Feet Journal, Ethel Zine, Flash Frontier, Flora Fiction Website, Frost Zone Zine, Granfalloon Magazine, Meet Cute Press, Mono, Mystery Tribune, The Mythic Circl...

by Susan Cornford You think, because you parade around the pool in a bikini, that you are displaying an equally uncovered conscience. ‘Nothing to hide’, you flaunt! But I know what you did last winter, one cold moon-lit night, when you pushed your own sister overboard so she drowned. It was because she had the money, you didn’t, and now, as her next-of-kin, you have it all. I was on a boat going the other way, so it’s taken time to get back and let you know that I saw it. We jump in from opposite sides; I grab your ankle and dive.      Susan Cornford is a retired public servant, living in Perth, Western Australia. She has pieces published or forthcoming in Across the Margin, Adelaide Literary Magazine, Antipodean Science Fiction, borrowed solace, Cafe Lit, Crow’s Feet Journal, Ethel Zine, Flash Frontier , Flora Fiction Website, Frost Zone Zine, Granfalloon Magazine, Meet Cute Press, Mono, Mystery Tribune, The Mythic Circle, Quail Bell Magazine, The Short Humo...

Chomp! I know I’m only little but I practice hard every day. My mother and father and even ancestors all the way back will be proud of me. Chomp! It’s true that it involves a lot of pain, but I’m willing to make that sacrifice in order to get to my goal. Chomp! The Pain Away people are happy to sponsor me because I need so much of their stuff to keep me going. Chomp! But I know it will be worth it one day when I’m “The All-Time World’s Best Ouroboros”! Sigh. Chomp! by Susan Cornford  Susan Cornford is a retired public servant, living in Perth, Western Australia. She/her has pieces published or forthcoming in Across the Margin, Adelaide Literary Magazine, Antipodean Science Fiction, borrowed solace, Cafe Lit, Crow’s Feet Journal, Ethel Zine, Flash Frontier , Flora Fiction Website, Frost Zone Zine, Granfalloon Magazine, Meet Cute Press, Mono, Mystery Tribune, The Mythic Circle, Quail Bell Magazine, The Short Humour Site, Thriller Magazine, Worthing Flash and others.

He watched the black ant make its way across the white tile floor. He needed to write a story about ants and he wanted it to be amusing but he didn’t think there was anything humorous about ants. What, for example, would ever make an ant laugh? Did they have stand-up comedians to entertain the group at night? ‘A funny thing happened to me on the way to the anthill’, could have them cracked up all evening. The ant was now going back, transporting a giant crumb found under the table. Could he write a story about ant stand-up comedians?   by Susan Cornford   Susan Cornford is a retired public servant, living in Perth, Western Australia. She/her has pieces published or forthcoming in Across the Margin, Adelaide Literary Magazine, Antipodean Science Fiction, borrowed solace, Cafe Lit, Crow’s Feet Journal, Ethel Zine, Flash Frontier , Flora Fiction Website, Frost Zone Zine, Granfalloon Magazine, Meet Cute Press, Mono, Mystery Tribune, The Mythic Circle, Quail Bell Maga...

Pride is a terrible thing. You’re meant to have it but you can’t have too much. How the hell can you tell where the line is so you don’t cross over? Yesterday’s an example: Sunday dinner with all the relatives. The inevitable question: “How’ve you been doing at school?” I could blow my own horn and say I’ve been made captain of the hockey team but I know Cousin George just got dropped in his favourite sport. So I say, “I think I’ll need some tutoring in French (George’s forte).” Mum murmurs, “I’m so proud of his diplomacy!”  Susan Cornford     

by Susan Cornford The beautiful lady zoologist picked up the frog and stepped through the mirror. The princess and prince emerged from the water and walked to the castle entwined. They hadn’t much time since a balance between the two lives must be kept. So, before dark, they returned to the pond and jumped in, travelled back. Through the night a man shovelled, urged on by a crone. With the pond almost filled, he stepped in. Taking the shovel she said, “Don’t forget: pass him over to me before you break up the mirror!” The husband and mother were closing the magical route.