Thursday, 16 July 2015

The Elijah Project


The Elijah Project

Susan A. Eames

Coconut Water


When Elijah fell from the coconut tree his life changed forever.
            A kindly ex-pat called Chip heard about Elijah’s plight and organised a wheelchair donation. Now that Elijah could no longer harvest the coconuts for copra he needed some form of income, so Chip arranged a supply of trinkets for Elijah to sell to sympathetic tourists. But Elijah’s wife left him anyway.

Elijah lived in his wife’s village and her family exercised their right to reclaim the house. He now slept on the deck of his ex-marital home in his shiny wheelchair.
            When Chip and his charitable friends heard about Elijah’s situation they confronted the in-laws, demanding that they show Elijah compassion. Baffled by their interference, the in-laws turned away from the foreigners, unable to express the complexities of their culture: a culture which deemed their actions not only acceptable, but expected, by everyone including Elijah.

So Chip and Co. branded the in-laws as cruel and heartless. They built Elijah a house on the edge of the village and modestly congratulated themselves for solving Elijah’s problems.
            And they told people in their home countries about ‘The Elijah Project’ because people in the developed world should hear these heart-warming stories, shouldn’t they? Naturally, it wasn’t because they sought praise for being such wonderful, caring folk.

Meanwhile, Elijah sat in his shiny new wheelchair in his shiny new house with boxes of trinkets that no one wanted to buy, more outcast than ever before.




About The Author
Susan A. Eames left England over twenty-five years ago to explore the world and dive its oceans. She has had travel articles and short fiction published on three continents. After several fascinating years living in Fiji she has relocated to West Cork in Ireland. Susan blogs at: http://susan-a-eamestravelfictionandphotos.blogspot.ie

Published July 16 2015

Monday, 15 June 2015

The Vengeance of Augustus


The Vengeance of Augustus

The Viking

Prussic Acid
Or
A bowl of tepid milky tea to slop on the kitchen floor




 Photo taken on Canvey Island by Peter Goldsworthy
 Dog in Sea (or is it a lion?)

Used as a writing prompt by Canvey Writers

I am poking around in the waning afternoon tide of the Thames Estuary searching for a cricket ball my owner, Archie, wants me to retrieve so he can throw it back in again; and they call dogs mutts?
            I am a chocolate coloured Labrador with the pedigree classification of Augustus the Divine a tribute hugely contested by Archie’s wife Agnes every time I pee on her petunias.
            She says I smell.
            ‘That dog has the stench of a hippopotamus decomposing in an African mud wallow,’ she once said after much deliberation.
            Bloody cheek, she smells like a kitchen aerosol spray. After tying me up outside Boots the Chemists, one day, she checked out trial offers on the perfume counter by spraying the stuff on my back’ saying, ‘Oh I do like that one, Gus,’ or, ‘What do you think of this one Gus?’
            To my horror, Sam, an Alsatian acquaintance of mine was witnessing the incident and instead of wanting to fight afterwards; contented himself with derisive barks.  
            Agnes also alleges I’m flatulent and sprays the air above my basket with Pound Shop disinfectant when I’m trying to take a nap. Occasionally she switches her fumigation hunger onto golfing socks Archie stuffs in his golf bag under the stairs.
            But she has a lighter side. At times of warmth and charity, she endears herself to her husband by saying things like, ‘You always smell of something, dear; aren’t you a one? Have you ever considered donating your mortal remains to the Department of Agriculture? Just imagine how proud you would be when you look down upon bumper crops of radishes bearing your DNA.’
            ‘You’re getting to sound like my old sergeant major,’ Archie replied to her accusation he was rubbish at cleaning his walking boots. Edging closer, she angled her head this way and that like a carrion crow watching as he hacked mud from the boots with a fish slice onto the newspaper strewn kitchen floor.
            After the final sweep of his hewing arm, she imperiously said, ’Now chuck the blessed things into the backyard to let enzymes get to them and they’ll smell sweeter than a brace of steam cleaned bedpans in the morning.’
            She had been a history teacher in her prime so I’d heard, but she seems to be well up on enzymes as well, preferring to hang Archie’s underpants on the outside rotary clothes line rather than include them in the weekly wash.
            Light is fading fast now, and consulting his wristwatch, Archie said grumpily,’ You’ll never see that ball in this light; why don’t we call it a day?’
            You will have noticed at this stage I no longer command the name of Gus, and his next statement did nothing to redress the issue.
            ‘That damned ball will be bumping along the bottom of the North Sea halfway to Amsterdam by now; they must be stacking the bloody things up like Edam cheeses over there.’
            As the tide ebbed, mud found its way onto my coat perhaps because I’d rolled in it as a treat for Agnes when we got home.
            The finicky back door was having a bad day and refused to open, so as we squelched through the front door, Agnes, not prepared for this subtle alternative showed more umbrage than humour and made personal remarks as Archie led me over her daffodil yellow hall carpet on the way to the bathroom for ritual cleansing.
            I do so love these providential moments of release when I can justifiably shake my moulting coat in the bathroom listening to Archie taking the rap afterwards for the unauthorized hirsute change of décor on the walls.


About the Author:

James Sainsbury began writing seriously after completing a correspondence course after which two articles and four short stories were published. Upon retirement, he noticed both little fingers were curling into their palms and was told he had Dupuytren's Contracture; a disease brought over by the Vikings, hence his chosen pseudonym-The Viking- all five feet inches of him; not your average berserker.


Published June 15 2015

Friday, 5 June 2015

Dialling 999



Dialling 999
Vicky Jacobson
Black Coffee

Generally, if things go wrong, my first reaction is to panic – okay, you might not see me running round flapping my arms like the proverbial headless chicken, but believe me, that’s what’s going on inside and that’s what was happening last night when I had to call 999.
I couldn’t find my phone, I couldn’t find my phone – my hands were shaking as I searched my bag but – no, I really couldn’t find my phone. I scrabbled frantically through dozens of old receipts and shopping lists, checked all the pockets, one after another but no sign of it. I prayed that I’d not forgotten it again and tried to calm myself but the panic was rising. I tried once more: I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, held it and concentrated on counting to ten as I slowly let it out. I opened my eyes and started looking again and there it was – in the first bloody place I’d looked. I focused all my attention on hitting the number nine three times and finally, with relief, I heard a calm voice on the other end asking me what service I required. 
 ‘Um, um, ambulance, no police – um, ambulance and police,’ I managed to blurt, ‘there’s a man, he’s unconscious… he might be dead… oh god, there’s blood everywhere.’
The operator asked me where I was and I gave her the town and tried to explain my location – I wasn’t exactly sure of an address but I told her it was off the footpath leading from Garrison Road. ‘About half-way along there’s a gap in the hedge and he’s through there, down in the field.’ I was sobbing by this time and she spoke soothingly and said somebody would be with me shortly. 
Although the path is well-known to locals, it isn’t very well lit and runs through an area bounded by fields on one side and waste ground on the other so normally, I wouldn’t use it after dark. As usual though, I was running late so the few minutes I knew it would save, swayed me. 
I remembered seeing a man coming towards me and as he neared he’d asked for a light and I shook my head and said I didn’t smoke. The next thing I knew I was sprawling on the ground down the bank and the man was coming after me. It all got very hazy after that but I recalled a struggle and felt several blows then I had hold of a rock and was swinging it with all the strength I could muster. I can still hear the crunch as the rock made contact with something hard but then it all faded away. The next thing I knew the man was lying still on the ground and I must have gotten to my feet because I was standing up and looking down at him and I knew I needed to get help.         
I could still hear the operator speaking but it appeared that she was no longer able to hear me and then the phone went dead in my hand. By that point though I could hear sirens approaching so I tried to make my way back up to the path. A few minutes later I heard the sound of vehicles screeching to a halt and car doors slamming. I saw several figures running towards me holding torches but I was a little bewildered when they totally ignored me and hurried into the field. 
I followed them to the gap in the hedge and watched as one of the policemen knelt down and checked the bloke’s vital signs. ‘It’s too late for this one,’ he said, ‘we’ll need to secure the area and get the forensics boys out here.’ He stood up and shone his torch around the field stopping at a low heap further off. ‘What’s that?’ he asked and one of the other policemen walked over to where the torch beam was directed. 
‘Sir, it’s a woman and she’s in a bad way,’ he said, bending down to look at her, then more urgently, ‘she’s still alive Guv but only just – we need to get the paramedics here pronto.’
A chill ran through me and I slipped back into the shadows beneath the bushes. I couldn’t understand what they were saying, there’d only been me and that bloke – where had this other woman come from?        
Two guys rushed through the gap and I saw them load the woman onto a stretcher with swift, practised movements. I tried to press back into the hedge to avoid being seen but as they passed me the woman’s hand slipped from under the blanket and brushed against my leg.  A glint on her wrist resolved itself into a watch that looked very familiar. 
A thought, dismissed before it was fully formed, flitted across my mind as I lifted my hand to look at the watch I was wearing.
It was…no, it had to be a coincidence, she was just wearing a watch like mine; but there was the scratch on the glass where I’d caught it on a wall while rushing to get washing in from the rain and there was the tiny splodge of white paint on the strap I’d never gotten round to cleaning off. It wasn’t just like mine; it was mine.
In disbelief, I fumbled to look at my own wrist again and, as I did, the truth finally slammed into me. I felt a huge jolt as I was pulled back into my body and then, for a brief moment, I was aware of being carried on the stretcher before everything went black.
I woke up the next day in hospital. The police were waiting to speak to me and I learned that I’d been attacked but evidence showed that I’d fought back desperately. My attacker had suffered a head injury during the tussle and had died and the doctor said that I’d probably be dead too if it hadn’t been for the mystery woman who’d used my mobile to summon help. They said that she’d disappeared before the police arrived but they obviously needed to interview her and thought an appeal in the local paper might urge her to come forward. I knew that was very unlikely but thought I should probably keep that to myself.    
I can’t explain what happened last night but I do know that I’ll be sticking to roads with street lights in future.
Yesterday I phoned 999 for the first time. I want it to be the last.


About the Author

Vicky is a retired legal secretary with two grown-up children. She has always had a desire to write but only really got started when she joined Canvey Writers earlier this year. This story was a response to a writing prompt from the group.

Tuesday, 26 May 2015

100 Worder Web-based Artist


100 Worder

Mike Olley

Web-based Artist

Shoo-Fly Punch




A spider has taken over our shed down the bottom of the garden. We can't use it any more. People say we're silly to be scared of spiders but this one shouts and swears if we approach him, let alone suggest it should leave.
            'I'm an artist,' he says. 'Away, philistines! I'm creating.'
            He uses our tools and doesn't contribute to the rent. Sometimes he works throughout the night, making noise and mess. The neighbours complained but there's nothing we can do, genius is not nine-to-five.
            So, the landlord is evicting us. Well, good luck with telling the spider.




About the author
Mike Olley made music videos but gave it all up to live next to a Spanish castle, where he grew cactuses, practised carpentry and wrote strange funny stories. A quirk of fate brought him to the English seaside where he continues to write. Published in several anthologies, his own collection of short stories is entitled Better. Mikeolley.com

Published May 26 2015


Friday, 22 May 2015

Josie The Spy




Josie The Spy

David Deanshaw

Tea turned cold on a window ledge



Josie carefully peeled back the grimy net curtain and stared out of her attic window. She did so because she had noticed that the front door of number 37, across the street, had opened at last. She stood behind the mounted camera, looked through the view finder and clicked three times. The street lights were some distance away so the clandestine activities she had just witnessed were only just visible.
            Two men were struggling to carry a long bag wrapped in a dark grey material along the short garden path. Then they dropped it casually into the back of a white van parked on the road outside the house. It must have been really heavy because she heard a dull thud even though her house was thirty metres away.
            She reached for the special phone with dithering hands. Nervously she pressed three buttons as she had been instructed. A voice answered with one word – “Speak.” She did so in hushed tones and reported, “They are leaving now!” She sat down on the chair nearby and was surprised just how breathless she felt as she put the phone down, so much excitement!
At last she could relax. Her job was done.


It had all been such a surprise. A week earlier, two men, one very tall, the other sort of average height, both dressed in trench coats had arrived at her door. They showed a form of identification she had not been able to make out fully because she had answered the door wearing her TV glasses. They had introduced themselves as “Special Services” people and asked that they should be invited inside.
             “Mrs Parker,” they began, “we are urgently in need of a location which overlooks the front door of a house opposite. Do you know who lives at number 37? Also, are they friends of yours?”
            “Oh no, not friends at all,” she replied with a gasp. “I think they work shifts, perhaps at the airport because they wear dark blue overalls. They only come home during the night. They’re very careful not to slam doors, I must say. But they don’t have any milk delivered, or post or papers, for that matter. Sometimes there is a light burning in the cellar, even during the day.”
             “Mrs Parker,” the tall one replied, “I am sure that we have found the right neighbour to carry out a short spying mission for us. Are you willing to have a camera mounted in your attic, with its lens trained on number 37?”
             “Oh isn’t this exciting. Why do you want to do this?”
             “Now Mrs Parker, this is a secret operation and we do not expect you to tell anybody about what you are doing or why we have asked you to carry out this mission for us. Do you understand?”
             “Oh I’m sure that I will be able to keep a secret – just for a week is it? OK. So long as I can tell my neighbours afterwards. Everyone at bingo will be really interested.”
            “Mrs Parker, the whole nation is relying on you to be helpful to us. When the mission is finished we will then release you from your agreement.”
             “What agreement?” she asked with surprise.
            “Oh didn’t we tell you. We have a document here like the Official Secrets Act which you have to sign. Print your name and then sign on the line below.”
            “Will I get paid for this?” Josie’s interest was pricked by this thought.
            “Oh I’m sure that we could justify something like a week’s rent, if you really insist.”
             “Oh, I do. Well I pay the Council £300 a week for this small house, so could it be two weeks rent? Please!”
            The short one looked up at the tall one, they both nodded and Josie was overjoyed.
            “Now tell me exactly what you want me to do.”
            “Well it is important that we get pictures of what they are doing. We have had a man in the street for a few days now and he had nothing to report. That may be because they have suspected that they are being watched. This is a simple camera with a special night vision lens. We will set it up on a tripod to keep it steady in your attic. All you have to do is watch for when the door opens, click this button two or three times. Then we want you to use this special mobile phone, press these three buttons which will call us.”
            “Are you going to tell me why you are doing this?”
            “Not until afterwards, when we come to give you your money, we will tell you what it has all been about. And then you can tell your friends, but not before. Is that alright?”
             “And you promise that I can tell all the girls at bingo when it’s all over?”
            “Yes you can.” The prospects of being the centre of attention at bingo, AND having six hundred pounds in her purse gave her frisson of expectation.


Now one week on from that strange day, she had done everything the two strange men had asked and made the call.
            Within just a few minutes she could hear a siren and the street was full of police cars. Number 37 was surrounded, the door was smashed in and later four men wearing dark blue overalls were led out to a police van.
            Later, another large police van arrived and several long bags were loaded, all in the same dark grey plastic wrapping.
            Josie Parker had played her part in busting a gang of carpet rustlers.



About The Author
David Deanshaw has had a varied business career, initially in banking, then as a management consultant and more recently involved in the regeneration of run down town centres.
            He has used his experience in writing a mixture of short stories, whilst planning on writing about situations he saw in the fields of both finance and politics. He has had several letters published in The Times, Sunday Times and Birmingham Post of a political and business nature.
            His first novel, The Price of Loyalty, is based on the greed, ambition and arrogance he found watching activity in the City of London, entwined with political machinations. A sequel is being written together with a prequel involving some of the older characters.
Published May 22 2015

Thursday, 7 May 2015

100 Worder The Hotel Doorman


100 Worder

Janet Bunce

The Hotel Doorman

Hades Cocktail

The revolving door swings round rapidly.
            Trapped within every swirl is a different being.
            Some happy, some sad.
            Some fat, some extremely thin.
            A few look haggard and depressed – obsessed in their own worlds.
            Occasionally the door presents a smiling face – one who loves life and humanity.
            He greets all with a touch of his hat and friendly greeting.
            No discrimination is applied.
            ‘Welcome to the Hotel Styx’ he says.
            ‘Let this be the beginning of your next journey’
            Entering the lobby a scream is quite common as they see Charon waiting to ferry them to their final resting place.


About the Author

Janet lives in Epping Forest and works part time in financial services. Apart from writing she loves sport (both participating and watching) and this is occasionally reflected in her stories. She is also a fan of horror and sci-fi and would like to develop writing in the genre.

Published May 7 2015

Friday, 1 May 2015

100 Worder Monday Morning


100 Worder
Roger Noons
Monday Morning
A large mug of hot chocolate



At the bus stop, in last night’s make up, the woman felt her cheeks warm under the schoolboy’s stare. He hitched up his backpack, but his eyes never left her face.
    ‘Are you a clown?’
    She started, thought to rebuke him, but instead sneaked a glance at her reflection in the graffitied plastic. When she saw the streaked mascara and scratched foundation, she laughed. ‘I wish I was,’ she admitted and touched the boy’s shoulder, tempted to tousle his hair.
    When the bus arrived, she let him get on first. She slipped on her sling backs as he did so.


About the Author
Roger is a regular contributor to CafeLit and his work is featured in The Best of collections. He charms us all with his humour as well as his pathos.


Published May 1 2015