Friday, 30 August 2013

Like A Shot

Like A Shot
Roger Noons
A large glass of Limeade

 ‘Norris!’

    ‘Yes sir?’

    ‘What are you doing on Saturday?’

    ‘Nothing in particular sir.’

    ‘Yes you are. You’re in the school team for the District Sports; it’s at Bromsgrove. Be here at nine o’ clock, I’ll take you.’

    ‘In which event sir?’

    ‘Er … discus … and shot of course.’

    ‘Right oh sir.’

    He glared; my expression obviously came within his definition of ‘familiarity.’

 Saturday arrived, and I stood at the bus stop with my bag.

    ‘Do you have to go on a Saturday now Ralph?’

    ‘No Mrs Wyre, I’m in the school team for the District Sports.’

    ‘That sounds grand!’

    I nodded, smiled, and stood back to let her get on the bus.

    ‘Good luck!’ she shouted, as I climbed the stairs.


At ten minutes past four in the afternoon, I was awaiting the 137 to return home, when our neighbour waddled towards me. She was festooned with shopping bags; her husband’s old haversack over her right shoulder.
    ‘Hello young ’un,’ she grinned.
    ‘You’re loaded down Mrs Wyre, let me help you.’
    ‘Been to the market, haven’t I; stocked up with clothes and things for our holiday. We’re off to Weston next Saturday.’
    While I was considering a response, she leaned towards me. ‘How did you get on then?’
    ‘Fourth,’ I answered, ‘in the discus.’
    ‘That sounds good, out of how many?’
    ‘Fourteen schools, I think.’
    ‘Very good!’
    ‘I came second in the shot putt.’
    ‘Is that where they throw them canon ball things?’
    ‘Yes,’ I smiled.
    ‘You want to watch you don’t drop it on your foot!’
  
The bus stopped with a squeal of brakes. I stayed back, then followed her along the lower deck, limping.


About the author

Having spent the best part of thirty five years writing reports on such subjects as ‘Provision of Caravan Sites for Travellers’ and ’Aspects of Pest Control in the Urban Environment’, Roger Noons began even more creative writing in 2006, when he completed a screenplay for a friend who is an amateur film maker. After the film was made, he wrote further scripts and having become addicted, began to pen short stories and poems. He occasionally produces memoirs and other non-fiction. He has begun to perform his poems, and has just published ’An A to Z by RLN’, an anthology of 26 short stories. He intends by the end of the year to have followed that up with a novella.
He is a member of two Writers Groups and tries his hardest to write something every day. As well as CafeLit, he has had credits in West Midlands newspapers, The Daily Telegraph, Paragraph Planet, Raw Edge and a number of Anthologies.
Roger is a regular contributor to the CafeLit site and a couple of his stories have been selected for the Best of CafeLit 2012.

Wednesday, 28 August 2013

Star Man

Ana Salote

Star Man

Baileys Comet*



Beyond the ruined walls, the long-horned cattle lay down in Outer Hebridean darkness. Above me the stars wheeled: Cassiopaeia, Ursa Major. I held a candle to the old church wall and marvelled. Unmistakably it was there. At the feet of Christ, in the same ancient flaking pigments, was the figure of an astronaut.


About the author
Ana Salote is the author of Tree Talk, an environmental parable, and Oy Yew, a gothic fantasy. Oy Yew was longlisted for the Times/Chicken House award for children's fiction.




*1 part Buttersctoch schnapps, 1 part Baileys Irish Cream,1 Part Goldschlage,1 part floating (i.e. poured over the back of a spoon) sambuca

Tuesday, 27 August 2013

A Tight Squeeze


Carol Bevitt

A Tight Squeeze

A Strawberry Flapper (cocktail)



From the window at the top of the stairs, Verity could see the pink stretch limo waiting at the kerbside; it was already occupied by half a dozen, perfumed, painted and barely dressed giggling girls.
               Linda swore they were her best friends and just had to be invited to her hen night.
               Verity glanced at her watch. If her sister didn't get out of the bathroom in the next two minutes they’d be holding the party without her.
               As she reached the bathroom door she could hear Linda’s mobile beep, and it kept on beeping.
               ‘Linda!’ Verity rapped on the door briskly, and then knocked harder. ‘Are you okay in there? Do you need help?’
               The mobile beeped again … and again.
               Verity shook her head in disbelief; she knew what Linda had done. She’d ignored her advice and bought the wrong size. ‘Linda. Say something!’
               She pressed her ear against the door and listened. There were noises. Sounds of huffing and puffing, then a muffled exclamation that sounded like, ‘Bugger!’ followed by a loud thump.
               ‘Right. I don’t care how little you’re wearing. I'm coming in!’
                Verity turned the handle and thrust open the door.
                Suspended over the bath was a pair of flailing legs protruding from a shiny white cocoon like a hyperactive squid, with red manicured tentacles. Somewhere inside was her sister.
                  ‘Idiot. You didn't read the instructions, did you? Stop wriggling; this is difficult enough as it is. I'm going to pull you up. Now don’t move until I tell you. Okay?’
               There was a faint gasp in reply.
               Legs akimbo, Verity hauled the body from the tub and stood it upright. It wobbled.
                ‘Next time. Remember. You don’t put Shapewear on over your head.’



About the author
Carol Bevitt lives in the East Midlands. She splits her writing time between creating short stories, and occasional flash fiction, while concentrating on historical romances, which she’s writing under her pseudonym, Serena Lake. Both had stories included in the One Word Anthology e-book published in 2012.




Friday, 23 August 2013

100 Worder Assassin’s Lament


100 Worder

Gayle Beveridge

Assassin’s Lament

Absinthe – Death in the Afternoon

         

She was in his sights but it wasn’t time yet. It was her inaugural open air address as president. There was a bonus due him if he assassinated her during her first sentence.  
               A shame; she was his country’s great hope, an honest politician, an end to corruption. His employers had expected her to lose but the people had voted otherwise.
               Hell, he’d voted for her.
               She stepped up to the podium. 
               He fired. One shot to the head. Her first word was only a puff from her lips. 
               It was as planned, he was the best of his kind.


About the author
Gayle loves her family, dogs, sunsets and chocolate. Her stories appear in anthologies, including Award Winning Australian Writing 2009 and 2012, Mosaic, The Umbrella’s Shade and Vegemite Whiskers. She has placed in Australian and international competitions and tweets very short stories on twitter @GayleBeveridge. More about Gayle at: http://www.ficklefiction.com

Thursday, 22 August 2013

100 Worder Uncoupled


100 Worder

Rosie Canning

Uncoupled

Sparkling wine to hide the taste


I knew she would be there, dressed in bright colours to show her unsadness.
               Even now I can hear them banging on the door. He never loved her like he loved me. 'Only next of kin,' said the bitch at the hospital. I hurried away with his keys and locked all the doors. He once told me he had to get married. I had always said no, it would only spoil what we had. I will stay here, in his bed, with the smell of him all around me. I’m spending my last hours close to his things.



About the author

Rosie Canning is a co-founder of Greenacre Writers. She has written several short stories and flash fiction pieces which have been long/short-listed in competitions and published in anthologies and online.

Wednesday, 21 August 2013

100 Worder A Ruinous Package

100 Worder

John Byatt

A Ruinous Package

Mother's Ruin – a shot of something explosive



It was my finger sliding underneath the parcel tape that set alarm bells clanging within me. Everything slipped into slow motion, like a replay of a winning goal. But I couldn't stop my finger from careering to the opposite end of the package. A muffled click came and went, and it was too late. Only as my spine shattered against the filing cabinet, my arms tore away left and right, my legs split downwards, opening out like a fan, and my head spun like a ball through the shattering window, did I realise that my blood would ruin the carpet.


About the author
John Byatt lives in SW England where he writes science fiction stories for the fun of it, but would like to publish something in the future. John has only been writing for a few years, aside from a few poems now and then, but is now trying to make up for lost time, being best inspired by the sea.
The only thing he has had published so far is a
couple of flash fiction stories in One Word Anthology, available at http://alfiedog.com/products-page/ebooks/one-word-anthology-talkback-writers/


Tuesday, 20 August 2013

100 Worder The Journey

100 Worder
Roger Noons

The Journey

Ein Berliner Pils



When I arrived at Checkpoint Brava, chaos prevailed. I did as directed, parking in a lane for foreigners. I remained in the driving seat. Each time after receiving the signal, I edged forward, until it was my turn. A police officer appeared on each side.

“Papers.”

I offered my passport, GDR Entry Visa and the documents relating to the Opel. After what seemed an age, they were passed back, and as the officer gave the signal for the barrier to be raised, his colleague opened the passenger door and jumped in. She squeezed my hand as I accelerated.


About the Author

Roger is a regular contributor to the CaféLit site and a couple of his stories have been selected for theBest of CaféLit 2012.