Tag Archives: Books

We Should Unionise…

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Harriet’s husband came home early, prompting a mad dash across the bedroom, into a walk-in-wardrobe. There, the adulterer discovered a similarly naked man cowering amidst fur coats and party frocks.

His first heightened thought: Is nothing sacred?

They listened as a (potentially) murderous and drunken Goliath showered his wife with clumsy kisses before collapsing into an uneasy stupor.

A sliver of light illuminated their escape route – a bathroom and a flat roof beyond.

Creeping and held breath led them to freedom. Under the moon’s gaze, one crammed into a little black dress; the other resplendent in a ball-gown, they exchanged unfathomable expressions before parting company, their adrenaline sufficiently expunged for the time being…

 

Written for: Friday Fictioneers

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It’s what he would’ve wanted…

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His wife (whom he hated) had promised to carry out his final wishes to the letter, but Geoffrey knew better than to trust a woman schooled in the subtle arts of emasculation. In secret he had a second will drawn up and passed to a trusted confidant.

As he laboured in the final stages of his illness he was warmed by constant rumination on how, in death,  he might best offend his god-awful family. Various conceits were considered: having his cadaver loaded onto a trebuchet and fired indiscriminately into the air, being liquidised and surreptitiously added to the reception punch (where he could quite literally become a pain in everyone’s arse), and orchestrating a remote controlled resurrection; his eyes flashing red.

What he settled upon was simpler and more grotesque.

Come the big day mock mourners were met with absence – no coffin, no flowers – Nothing save for a cream stove upon which sat a solitary oversized mug. As empty platitudes were flogged into apoplexy Geoffrey’s filleted remains responded by farting  and bubbling their way over the rim in a last glorious gasp of defiance…

Written for: Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers

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Friday Fictioneers: Revenge Runs Deep…

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It wasn’t enough that, after decades of cruelties and recriminations, he’d finally triumphed over his bitter enemy. The fertilised fruits of loss and shame required that his hatred rage on into victory.

And so, in the winter years of his life, he conceived of an idea that would keep the fires burning beyond any mortal tenure – A whispered rumour in the ear of his one remaining heir…

“…Carve an effigy of my nemesis, brought low in chains, and have it placed in a deep recess. Have children run to it on a dare, striking it with harmless cane so that, slowly and imperceptibly, through loss of both form and name, it no longer resembles a man…”

 

Written for: Friday Fictioneers

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Twittering Tales: Let’s Get Tattoos…

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With each stab of ink the message slowly revealed itself: I’ve only paid up to the words ‘I’ve poisoned you’. Wire £1m for the antidote…

 

138 Characters

 

Written for: Twittering Tales

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Six Words Stories…

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2. Shakespeare’s first sonnet not all bard…

3. Reader unable to open escapologist’s memoirs

4. Vindictive flamingos christen their son Floyd

5. Bullied magician’s wand disappears up arse

6. Depressed bible salesman receives good news

7. Sea-monsters’s small-talk met with gargantuan indifference

8. Folk musician’s music hated by parents

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(or ‘Adulterous Transformers! Cheating assholes in disguise!’)

10. Online troll’s girlfriend dumps him anonymously

11. Alien’s epic genital grabbing greeting faux-pas

12. A DJ’s quest for musical talent

13. Helen Pselph writes Self Help book

14. Obese astrologist’s ironically unpredicted heart attack

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Previous entry: Six Word Stories #5

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Friday Fictioneers: Progress

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‘…Power sockets in a swimming pool! One of the many reason homo-sapiens once stood on the verge of extinction.’

The teacher’s comments fell on deaf ears. In the foreground she sensed a trio of giggling girls, telekinetically tossing a hairbrush back and forth, and hidden away at the back several boys had clearly pooled their consciousness in order to play online games.

She gave a virtual sigh. Modern teaching was nigh-on impossible.

‘…And this – once the only means of communication; its ringing interrupting a deafening silence devoid of content. Can you imagine?

The kids stared at her blankly. For all their technology and privilege…

…They couldn’t!

 

Written for: Friday Fictioneers 

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Henpecked Incorporated…

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With Faithful Jenny deliberately scuttled there was no going back. The rip-tides in the bay were well renowned, and the lack of a body would be easily explainable.

He outstretched his arms and let go of everything – his materialistic trophy wife, the kids who hated him, the stock portfolio, the endless competing with other alphas – all expelled in a single glorious belch of freedom.

Hidden behind a rocky outcrop he encountered two other men – one standing in the mangled wreckage of a hang glider, the other kneeling by a bloated cadaver. He greeted them with nervous exhilaration and gave a false name as he’d been instructed. They reciprocated.

‘The likeness is uncanny,’ he commented, gesturing towards the cadaver.

”I paid extra. It’s a little macabre stealing from a morgue, but it’s not like anyone was murdered!’

A speedboat was moored at the tip of the archipelago. With a fair wind they’d be in Gibraltar by morning where a vagabond utopia awaited…

 

164 Words

Written for: Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers

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