It was late July when the lead story on the Ten O’Clock News opened with a view of our historic Freewater Courthouse and reported that a local, Philip Norland, had been arrested and charged with the deliberate murder of his 17-month son. He had left the toddler strapped in his car seat to die a long painful death by overheating in a locked car in the middle of a parking lot.
Phillipa had always known that she would be a nurse. The admission tests for University were easy because she was confident, no panic or night-time angst for Phillipa. She was born to be a nurse.
The University was attached to a teaching hospital with a world-renowned reputation. It would look great on her CV as she climbed the career ladder. She was a little regretful that they weren’t required to wear caps, crisp white aprons with scissor chain attached and black tights, but she made a supreme effort with the trouser uniform and always appeared smart, clean, fragrant and fresh.
At last, at the end of the Preceptorship, which of course she had zipped through in the shortest time possible, Phillipa felt that she was at last truly “Nursing” and was joyfully taking her turn at being “Nurse in Charge”.
“Everything happens for a reason, Josie, is the lamest philosophy – if you can actually call it a philosophy – I ever heard.”
“I’m sorry, I– ”
“–Why do you say such things?”
“I don’t know, Steve. I thought that–”
“–You don’t think Josie. You just repeat stuff other people say. Usually stupid people.”
“That’s a bit strong, Steve, isn’t it?”
Continue reading “Everything Happens For A Reason by Adam West”
When Adam West first came up with the idea for the site and drew together our little band we thought it would be fun. All five editors are passionate about Short Fiction, the reading and writing of it. I don’t think any of us realised just how much fun it would be – and how much work. We have spent many, many hours putting together a site that we are now very proud of.
Continue reading “Merry Christmas and a very Happy New Year”
It’s bedtime now. Santa will only come after you have gone to sleep.
‘Oh Grandpa, tell us a story.’
Only if you both stay still, no jumping around. Come on now, settle under the blankets and listen. Let me tell you about Grandma’s Christmas bauble.
It was a dark wintry night and we were huddled together reaching towards the small fire, stretching our hands into the warmth. No one spoke because they were afraid, so afraid that if they slept they might not wake in the morning.
‘We’ll wake, won’t we Grandpa?’
Shussh, let me tell the story.
“Hi, Jo-Jos…er… sorry, Cas. Where are ye gaun?”
Cas glared at his cousin Mel and held back a snarl. Oh, how he hated his name Joe, Joe- fucking- King what a load of shite. His mum and dad must be a right pair of cretins to land him with that.
“I’m gaun tae visit oor Auntie Mary,” he finally replied, “gie her and Uncle Josie a wee Christmas prezzie for the new wean. Y’comin?”
Continue reading “Christmas Daze by Alexander Wardrope – Adult Content”
“Me toes are freezing.”
“Come ‘ere, give ‘em ‘ere an’ I’ll put ‘em under me coat.”
“Oh nice, that’s nice. Are you cold Joe?”
“Mmm a bit, just a bit, snuggle up and we’ll warm each other won’t we.”
“Lovely. This place in’t bad is it. I know it’s a bit wet in the kitchen and it dun’t have electric like the last squat but it’s not bad ‘ere.”
“No, an’ it feels safer I fink.”
“Yeah. Eh, what’s that noise?”
“Dunno, I’ll go look you stay ‘ere, stop under the blanket and keep warm.”…
Continue reading “Mary, Joseph and the Baby by Diane Dickson”
I thought I’d take an umbrella. I peered out of the window and drew back the curtain. It was dark and cloudy. I didn’t think – snow – but perhaps rain, sleet, maybe. So, yes I decided, an umbrella. That was back then, when I was brave, when I thought I could do it today. That was when I operated on a “normal” level, sane.
Chapter 1
The more cynical residents of Pynchon, PA claimed jam would go out of fashion before the town boasted an inhabitant of note, but the place was very much like thousands of small towns across America. It was a fair to middling blot on the landscape with thirty thousand residents, drive-thru burger joints, and an underachieving baseball team; and its attractions included a permanent fairground of rusting carousels, a correctional facility for troublesome women, and a jam factory.
Continue reading “Pynchon McCool: an introduction in twelve chapters by Michael Dhillon”
Ray had been listening in for some time now. It was fair to say that not much happened. He was paid regularly and managed to make ends meet, sure. Most of the time, that was all he cared about. The days were hardly springing by like joyous animals, but neither were they crawling in the vein of pained snails. Rent got paid, the cupboards got refilled and occasionally he treated himself to a trip to the local cinema. Work was work though, and he turned up daily at nine in his suit and tie, draping his jacket on the hook behind the door, sitting at his computer, and donning his pair of headphones. Continue reading “Listening In by Jon Green”
literally stories 