Category: Short Stories

March Confidential winner

Thanks to everybody for the excellent wide-ranging batch of stories. Reading them all in one go instead of the usual when they’re published way is rewarding indeed. A word of commiseration to granviller for missing out at the last moment.

Bearsy notwithstanding, it was funny reading the interpolations (hark at me) of the word snake into your scripts. In hindsight I wished I’d made it giraffes. Some other time, perhaps and furthermore maybe they’ll make a film called Giraffes on a Plane. Right, down to business. Continue reading “March Confidential winner”

To Anna: March Creative writing Competition

Sunday, 13th February 1887

At first I was unaware that anything had changed. The day progressed along normal lines, in that I had breakfasted early as is my habit, and retired to my study for a few hours to complete another chapter of my diary. I feel the need to tell you at this point Anna; this was not so much for posterity, more a confession of a life squandered, and a need to express regret for all the hurt I have caused to my family. I do not feel a need to broadcast to the world, but I would like a chance perhaps, to explain to those who remain alive.

Our children will judge me harshly, and how can I blame them? You perhaps will have a more enlightened view of my actions; I do hope so. Your understanding now, as I am aging and alone, is becoming ever more important to me. I know I have your forgiveness, and that too is now a source of comfort, and no longer fuelling my bitterness and self-loathing. Such emotions are akin to snakes, their coils, loose at first, tighten until life is squeezed out, and no emotion remains, save a deep and desperate hatred.

Continue reading “To Anna: March Creative writing Competition”

March Confidential (C/W competition)

Good evening.

I didn’t realise the difficulties in setting up a competition. With great power comes great responsibility (Stan Lee…again). After discarding hackneyed taxi ideas and wearing out lots of crayons, this is the best I can come up with for the March creative writing competition.

Rock Hudson was a Hollywood star with a very secret private life, Nick Leeson was a trader that kept his dealings from his firm. The theme will be about someone or thing (institution, golf club, whatever) having a secret they take great pains at to hide. Eventually, the truth will out. It’s your decision if it ends up good or bad.
To complicate matters I’d like to see the word snakes used in the script either metaphorically or literally (just an excuse to give Snakes on a Plane another plug).

The pressure of judging will be new to me, though I am looking forward to reading lots of entries. Happy writing, everyone, go on, pick those crayons up.

Usual rules apply. 2,000 words. Closing date is the last day in March.

The Political Wife : Going back

Part One can be found here.

Going back

She drifted in New York. The first week away was a blur and she alternated between frantic socialising and staying in her room at the hotel and cutting herself off. She did not allow herself to think too deeply about anything, and her future was just that, the future; something to be considered but not just yet.

She felt no guilt whatsoever;  no emotional turmoil, no regrets, no self- recrimination. Nothing.  She just lived for the moment and slept when she felt cut off from humanity. She refused any contact with home and moved through New York in a disconnected way. She enjoyed it but despised the shallowness whilst acknowledging her inability to connect with humanity in more than superficial and selfish sort of way. She slept off the excesses and did not dream.

Continue reading “The Political Wife : Going back”

The visitor – CW entry

“Another pint, Gilbert?”

Mr Chandrasekhar’s ebullient tones cut through the hubbub of the public bar like the north wind through the stench of a cow barn, drowning the cheers from the 50 inch Sky screen as Wilkinson converted yet another try. I checked my watch; no, seven thirty and no meetings or functions in the Club House this evening, I was in the clear, surely? We don’t often see the Chairman in the public, and more than likely trouble’s the reason when we do. Continue reading “The visitor – CW entry”

The Ribbon of death

It had been a few months since we last held a meeting. The authorities had cracked down hard on our activities and our band of disenfranchised rebels was dwindling. As I still retained my membership I was summoned to an extraordinary reunion of the Ribbonmen.

The venue chosen brought tears to my eyes. It was in this holy place that I said a final goodbye to my kid brother. Everybody loved Gerry, from the little kids to the old rummies. He never got mixed up in schemes of Nationalism. Gerry was always exploring, on the move making new friends but the Good Lord had taken him in the prime of his life.
Continue reading “The Ribbon of death”

February 2011 Creative Writing Competition

Up to 2000 words, as short story around the subject of ‘The Weekend Reunion’, to include  the word ‘jealousy.’
One person has just suffered a bereavement during the last year and another has just discovered an infidelity. Continue reading “February 2011 Creative Writing Competition”

Canvasses and Mattresses (JM’s creative comp)

The top floor studio was ideal. Stacks of old paintings, metal utensils and other assorted clutter were scattered all over the place. This made the property cheap by the city’s standards. Dereliction might be off-putting for some; although I’ve watched TV builder entrepreneurs transform pits into palaces. For me dilapidation was right up my street, I work better in chaos.

At last I had somewhere to forget my kinky muse and I didn’t need to march to a far away desert singing about a black pudding with other outcasts. This spacious, detritus strewn attic made me dismiss thoughts of jumping in quicksand. Yes, it was touch and go for awhile there. I remember the fateful day as if it were yesterday. Continue reading “Canvasses and Mattresses (JM’s creative comp)”