Thursday, April 15, 2021

Nifty-Fifty Winning Stories

Dead In Bed by Andrew Ball

"So, what did you do?"
"What could I do? I told her I'd just remembered another appointment."
"And the time was...?"
"Three a.m."
"Oh boy. How'd she take it?"
"Not well."
"First date?"
"No, but first... you know. So, what do you think?"
"Honestly? I don't think she's the one."

Ghost by Andrew Ball

Unlike my mother, I don’t believe in ghosts. I used to mock her about it.
“Are you going to come back and haunt me, then?” I’d jeer.
“I’ll have better things to do than squander any more time on you, you no-good wastrel!” she’d reply.
I can hear her now.

Malice Aforethought by Andrew Ball

Look at her: sitting there at His feet, simpering. Makes you sick. I can't think what she sees in Him, the little hussy. And as for Laz, he were better off dead. So, who's going to peel all these potatoes to feed Him and His twelve hungry groupies? Muggins Martha!

The Wrong Guy by Andrew Ball


“The charge before the court is that on or about the 5th of November 1605, you conspired with others to destroy the House of Lords in the Palace of Westminster, in an attempt to overthrow the monarchy. How do you plead?”
“Not guilty, your honor. You’ve got the wrong Guy!”

Ghost by Ivan Skilling

Every year, Mum returns as a white butterfly during the Hungry Ghost Festival. Her wings beat a whispered greeting when she flutters around my ears. I always say the same words to her.
I'm sorry, Mum. I should have called. Money, I can earn back. But you, I can't.

No Longer Mine by Nicole Wilson

It pinched painfully as I twisted the ring past my knuckle. When it was finally off, it left behind an angry reddish, purple hue. The band clanked on the counter; a plea for me to change my mind but when the pawnbroker asked if I was sure, I nodded yes.

Malice, Aforethought by Nicole Wilson

I thanked the waitress, stirred in another pack of sugar. Johnny was gagged, tied, and blindfolded in a warehouse. I still loved him. Maybe the scare was enough; our love, still salvageable. I turned on the burner, called off the hit, and ordered pie a la mode with another coffee.

Ghost by Kate MacWhannell

He stares at the clock. By maintaining a routine he is convinced he can control his life and shut out the ghostly voice that taunts him. “You don’t deserve happiness,” it whispers as he waits for the minutes to turn. “She discovered that you are bad, that’s why she left.”

No Longer Mine by Amy B. Moreno

I stalked the garden; skinny ribs hunting afternoon black birds, without a warning bell.
I pushed myself up against the patio doors, pink nose flaring with questions – ‘Who lives here now?’
My tail twitched, I watched, waited for a chance.
I slipped inside, looking for home, but they had gone.

Ghost by Amy B. Moreno

She braked then let go. The bike coughed a satisfying thud on the grass, back wheel spinning.
Soles pressed against earth, toes spread - no hushed carpets; no sterilised door handles; no news reports.
The breeze whispered a dare to her dry, cracked, hands.
She felt the ghost of normality.

Malice Aforethought by David Walton

Malice Aforethought sprinted onto the stage, a blur of leather and skin…and fresh goat’s blood.
Down in the mosh pit, it was Callum and Colin’s first time. Engineering undergraduates, they’d both fashioned Mohican wigs, from steel.
“PUNKS PERFORATED IN STAGE DIVE MADNESS” was easily the most popular headline.
Don’t laugh.

Ghost by Hope Nguyen

They called me a ghost, not just because no one knew who I was, but also I moved like one.
Killing people meant nothing to me. It was a profession, a job with the benefit of hindsight.
At the end of the day, I'm just a man with no name.

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