Friday, 9 August 2013
100 Worder Promises
100 Worder
Roger Noons
Prayers
Cocoa in a Snoopy Mug
‘Right, off to bed now, and don’t forget to say your prayers.’
‘No Mummy.’
Timmy shuddered as he entered his bedroom. He always brushed his teeth, as he did not want them to fall out, but he hated the lingering minty taste.
He drew back the top sheet and underlying blanket, and then knelt, resting his forearms on the mattress. He closed his eyes and leant forward.
‘God bless ...’ he paused, opened his eyes. He swallowed and again closed his eyes; pressed the palms of his hands together.
‘God bless Mummy … and please stop Daddy hurting me.’
Thursday, 8 August 2013
100 Worder My Name’s Jones
100 Worder
Alan Cadman
My Name’s Jones
Martini … shaken, not stirred
Jack’s job wasn’t very exciting; sales,
commission only. He made it interesting, during his pitch to the customer, by
pretending to be someone else. He stepped out of his car and buttoned up his
coat.
Tonight, Jack thought, I’m going to be the world’s most famous spy.
Clutching his Quality Fitted Kitchens briefcase,
he sauntered up a driveway and tapped on a door. When it creaked open he raised
one eyebrow. “My name’s Jones … Jack Jones.”’
His eyes widened as a woman, stroking a
white Persian cat on her arm, replied, “I’ve been expecting you, Mr Jones.”’
About the author
Alan has been writing short stories for
six years. Before that, he was the editor of a civic society newsletter for
seven years. When he first started writing fiction, his published work was
rewarded with complimentary copies from magazines. His first cheque arrived on
Christmas Eve 2009.
In 2011 he made the short list for one story
and became a prize winner for flash fiction. Alan also won first prize, of
£100, in a poetry competition in 2013. The last three accolades were awarded by
the same best-selling UK magazine for writers. Alan’s work has been read out on
Internet radio and his stories are now published in hard copy magazines and
e-zines.
Wednesday, 7 August 2013
100 Worder South of the River after Midnight
100 Worder
Charlie Wade
South of the River after Midnight
Whisky Straight Up
The cabbie looked at him in the mirror. “That’s what you lot don’t
understand,” he started, “you go south of the river after midnight and it blows
your hours the rest of the week. People never learn.”
He watched the cabbie shake his head.
“Job’s hard enough anyway. It’s the government, see? Don’t look after
the working man anymore. This country, eh?”
Their eyes met again.
He wanted to disagree but couldn’t speak. The gag was far too tight. All
he could do, trussed up on the floor, was blink. Blink and hope to hell this wasn’t
his last ride.
About the author
Charlie Wade is forty years old and
lives in on the edge of the Peak District in Derbyshire. He's written three
books and many of his short stories can be found online. His latest novel, Seven Daze, was published by Caffeine
Nights on 27th May 2013. You can find him online at
Tuesday, 6 August 2013
100 Worder Shake Your Booty
100
Worder
Mike Olley
Shake Your Booty
Isotonic Rum
Rosie had never felt
more stupid in her life but had decided to front it out. Stuck flat on her back
for the next half hour with everyone staring at her. So what if stripy tops
weren't in? She could take the other girls' sniggers. And what was so wrong
with the gold earring she was sporting? She'd seen worse. The eye patch was an
embarrassment but could pass as a legitimate ailment. The five o'clock shadow
was more difficult to explain; the parrot and fake wooden-leg nigh on
impossible. Rosie wished she'd read the invite to Pilates class properly.
About the author
Mike Olley made pop videos but gave it all up to live
next to a Spanish castle, where he grew cactuses, practised carpentry and wrote
strange funny stories. Unable to take the heat any longer, he returned to
England with his sense of humour and a half-baked novel. His first collection
of short stories is Better.
Monday, 5 August 2013
100 Worder High Steaks
100 Worder
Angela Haffenden
High Steaks
A glass of Chianti – served chilled
My husband chews the steak, an ecstatic expression on his face.
‘You should cook meat
more often.’
I nod at him, glad he
doesn’t realise he’s eating what is his last meal.
I slice my char grilled vegetables. I savour every mouthful.
‘I’m glad you’re
enjoying it,’ I say, taking a generous swill of wine with my next bite.
Hovering above myself, I watch a macabre scene play out below me. My
husband, slumped in the chair, head lolling, his face purple from the poison I
concealed in his meal.
Me, I’m choking on a
huge lump of red pepper.
About the author
Angela Haffenden is a thirty-seven-
year old mother of four children. She is also responsible for a husband, a dog
and an ageing father. She writes mainly to stay sane. She lives by the sea and
writes in a cabin in the garden.
Friday, 2 August 2013
100 Worder Accident
100 Worder
Roger Noons
Accident
A cup of strong tea
When Mervyn Davies fell down stairs and broke his neck, his son Philip
was not saddened. Many a night he had been awakened by banging on the partition
wall between his bedroom and that of his sister. Megan was two years older than
Phil; well developed for her fourteen years. He would hear their father’s cough
as he closed the door, followed by the creak of the floorboards. Pressing his
ear against the anaglypta, he would listen to Megan’s sobs. It was early on a
January morning, when Phil leapt from his doorway, startling his father who
lost his balance.
About the author
Roger
is a regular contributor to the CaféLit site and a couple of his stories have
been selected for the Best of CaféLit 2012.
Thursday, 1 August 2013
100 Worder Gone
100 Worder
Lindsay Bamfield
Gone
Bitter lemon
There she is dressed in dramatic black, weeping
prettily, revelling in the fuss from the mourners. She is playing to perfection
the role of widow. Has she forgotten that she is not his widow? I am. Yet I’m
an embarrassment to those who remember that he never married her in the twenty
years they were together. Twice the time he was with me. I doubt she loved him
twice as much. I loved him enough to let him go when I was no longer wanted but
she clung on to him like choking ivy so his only escape was suicide.
About the author
Lindsay
Bamfield is a co-founder of Greenacre Writers in Finchley, North London. She
has had several short stories and flash fiction pieces published in anthologies
and online and is editing her first novel and working on her second.
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