12 short stories

by

Book Keeper

He moved it around every so often. When he found himself tripping over the pile of books on the floor one more time and he knew had to find some space. Books came, books went, that was his view. Some of them he even read. Some of them he didn’t, such was the obsession he had with his books. ‘One day I’ll read it’, he would say to himself and then a fad or fancy would wear off and some other passion would take its place.

Now and then Allan would do a charity shop run and amongst all the other trivia making that final journey out of his doors—stuff which had bubbled to the top of the discard pile—he’d have a ‘library’ clear out as well. Each time he found himself making a decision on the scruffy book, with the substantial brown paper covering (like no-one does any more, he told himself). He’d look at the last page of the story (without reading the ending of course, for that was a heinous crime) and see that it was over a thousand pages long and sigh, put it back on the shelf and tell himself that one day, he would make the time to do justice to ‘Gone with the Wind’.

Continue reading →
by

Passing Through

Topic: No One Can Know| Word Count: 1500| Genre: Thriller

Bedecked in black, she tiptoes across no-man’s land, barren ground she knows well. Rock and dust and debris soaked with the secrets of many happier days gone by.

The guards in the watchtowers are on their high alert, tension raised through the recent flare-ups. Male or female, if they catch her, they will not be tolerant. Whatever her cover story, she will be challenged to make them believe her. There are consequences for crossing into the walled city without permission, whoever you are.

Over time, she has listened to the people who know; the gaps she might exploit, but they come with no guarantees, for conditions change all the time, not least the shift patterns and state of alertness of the guards, her biggest concern in the exercise. With the night’s patchy cloud and partially shrouded moon, she knows where she can get through as safely as anywhere. And as she gets closer to this, the most vulnerable point in the trip, she feels herself tense. Her knowledge tells her to take a few, brief moments to breathe deeply to centre herself and keep calm.

Continue reading →
by

One Last Time

“That will not be necessary.”

I look up, and raise my eyebrows a little, proffering the card once more. This time I wiggle it a bit. He remains stony-faced.

“OK then, thank you,” I retreat.

I place the black card back in my wallet, and he gives the formal smile you get from reception clerks who ooze obsequiousness as an art form. Like a secret and invisible medal, cloaked by a coating of supposed professionalism, illicitly giving them license to be the superior, whoever was on the opposite side of their counter.

“My pleasure, Madame.”

Continue reading →
by

Payback Time

The acrid smell and metallic taste in her mouth gave way to a frantic hammering just by her left shoulder. She flinched at the angry, ragged monster berating her from outside. The window exploded as he smashed his way through, in a desperate quest to open the door.

“Out. Out. You have to get out,” he screamed, now tugging at the door with both hands, thighs braced tightly.

Continue reading →
by

Burned

She climbed three flights of stairs, resting between floors, hardly breathing even then from the stench of urine. She held the four carrier bags of groceries up in the air for fear of putting them down, into who knew what.

Finally, she turned onto the landing and she peered over the ledge as screams stabbed the echoing quadrangle from the desolate gardens below.

Continue reading →
by

Selling Up

He edged the silver Mercedes into nervy traffic going Eastbound towards the City. Red brake lights sparked all around, as uneasy drivers were spooked by the downpour they were locked into at sixty miles an hour.

It was only after a period of acclimatization to the conditions that Jacob noticed the opposite carriageway, where there was no traffic at all. It wasn’t much further before the cascade of ominous blue flashing lights exploded into view. Here he had to be even more wary, because drivers’ attention on his side was distracted, trying to rubber-neck a chaotic scene they could barely make out.

He noticed the catastrophic damage to the upside-down vehicle, the unusual colour of which made him peer more closely than he should have. In the magnetic spell of the image, he only just avoided the fast approaching back end of a container truck, hastily applied brakes causing it to fishtail a little. He managed to stop within a whisker of his own disaster.

Continue reading →

by

Lockout

Adele knew the exact moment she noticed something was off. There may have been other occasions secreted in her subconscious that made her more sensitised to it, but this particular occasion was the one she recalled.

It was a Thursday, when he arrived back from Pisa. One of what he described as ‘bloody’ business trips.

His return seemed normal and yet there was something that didn’t quite fit. At the time, it was more of an instinct; an inkling somewhere deep down inside her that gave her a feeling all was not right.

It was only later that night and after they made love, she realised what it was. Jack smelt differently. He’d bought new aftershave and although he was one of those men who had a glass shelf full of potions, it was one she did not know. She looked in his bathroom the next morning after he’d gone to the office. Expensive. Foreign. New.

Continue reading →

by

Time Served

The starchy white linen cloths covering the tables are fighting an inconsistent breeze that is annoying the street. Tall bland canyons of office blocks seem to be positioned in such a way that it’s always windy here. Hence the name, I guess. Still, it’s bright and warm enough for this time of year, and the scurries of brown leaves chasing the traffic offer me something to look at as I wait.

I nurse my beer and make it last. I’ve got to watch myself these days at lunchtimes. Alcohol and I have always been buddies, but only on each other’s terms. My agreement is to drink some of it and stop, especially this early in the day. Alcohol’s deal is not to pursue it when I’ve decided to stop. In general, it works on both sides. Anyway, I want to savor every moment while I’m with her at last.

She’s dashing across the road, avoiding the lanes of traffic, impatient as they are. She looks both ways, even though it’s all moving in one direction. It’s a one-way street, the thought of which makes me laugh a little to myself, for the irony of our meeting after all this time. . .

Continue reading →

by

Il Ne Pleut Jamais, Mais Il Verse

He met her in one of those trendy little cafés in Montmartre, where the waiters were snooty when he tried his bad French on them. He went there some mornings, doing nothing more than watch the world go by. Until today, when the girl slipped and fell on a pavement greasy from the drizzly rain that had begun to fall on sun-drenched stone.

He dabbed her bleeding knee with a fresh linen handkerchief. The one he always carried for such eventualities. Just in case.

Continue reading →