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Latest Stories

March 19, 2024
Fantasy Stories Wondering Monk

Just My Imagination

The alarm clock went off and started playing an awful tune. Tom opened his eyes and closed them back, squinting. He reopened one eye and stood up to stop the torture. The phone was on the desk, in the furthest spot from the bed. Although he changed his way of…
March 19, 2024
Science Fiction Stories Ocelotlzin

Earth Is Dead

Recording… It doesn't matter who I was; I probably lived a long time ago, and I am now just a voice someone added to the audio-visual records. What is essential is the recollection of events that lead to the current state. So, a little history needs to be…
March 08, 2024
Flash Fiction Benoit

Some Enchanted Evening

It was a rugby tackle with tears: Chrissy burst in, sobbing and babbling, hugging James. Her face was all wet, eyes wild. What…? My parents split up, Dad has moved in with his boyfriend and I cannot join them. I am shut out. I have lost my dad. Torrent of…
March 08, 2024
Horror Stories Marvel Chukwudi Pephel

In The Hands Of My Legs

The car pulled up in front of the large salon. The neon sign, that sexy broad thing, on the salon'sroof read "Mr. Gil's All-night Salon". The exhaust pipe of the car was pumping solid smoke, theswirls moving from the car and towards the salon.…
March 07, 2024
Mystery Stories Vanessa Leigh Giles

Casualty of Love in the Time of Coronavirus

Chapter 1 Until Death do us Part ‘Ring, ring!’. I answered the telephone and asked, “Hello, good evening. Who’s this? “Hello.” This is Dr. Smith from Red Cross hospital. “Is this Mr. Locke, John?”, he asked, hesitantly scratching his bald head. “Yes, doctor.…
March 07, 2024
Crime Stories Robert Pook

Bar Room Trigger

Another return journey on footpaths so familiar. He strides across each crack in each paving stone. Regular loose drain covers sidestepped. Mapping long ago mapped in Richard’s desolate mind. His pace hastened by the sight of the oncoming storm. Quickening…
March 04, 2024
Horror Stories Ano Chinemerem

Sanctity

Where should I begin? I could begin by telling you about this comely boy, whom every notable person around the streets agrees his smile could charm the bills off one. Between one smile, there was his goodness, his dreams and humanity—a little far ahead?— but…
March 04, 2024
Flash Fiction Emanuel Diaz

Et Mortui Partium

As Rafael stepped out into the rain, it wasn't the ordinary drops that fell from the sky. Instead, it was a storm of souls, each one taking the form of shimmering jewelry as it cascaded toward the ground. Rubies, diamonds, and sapphires twinkled amidst the…
February 29, 2024
Poetry Jing Li Ava

London

‘Am I in London?’ "I am." Where is Elizabeth? Happy living story All of your chapter Bounlance joy Please my heart Power hand Wise mind Our baby Vow vow Love all love Miss I miss Endless wonder Bring us together Love all love Miss I miss For everything My…
February 29, 2024
Flash Fiction Rob Pook

Life Sentence of The Smith

Born nine months after his country won the World Cup.A child prodigy.Cast off at age twenty-four.Husband, father, emigree, away on the other side of the world.The blue-collar life.The dreams of success.The search for fulfillment.The long years of empty…
February 29, 2024
Mystery Stories Joshua Lowther

The Operator

Jason looked over to his right, his eyes barely able to focus themselves on the subject of his attention. His neck ached terribly from the strenuous movement. He was tired. The captain’s gaze came to rest on the rookie sonar operator sitting tense at his…
February 29, 2024
Flash Fiction Salvatore Difalco

The Chute

At dusk, we left our unit with a soft pink bundle. I carried it through the wet streets and into the black woods. I said I’d take it all the way, the bundle, but that we had to drop it in together. My wife’s green eyes flashed. “Don’t make me do that.” I…

Springtime brought a happy mood to Whitebridge cemetery.  Fresh flowers in vivid colours of red, orange and yellow were speckled amongst the earthy grays and browns of the grave stones.  It was as if a celestial artist having seen the cemetery and thought it drab decided to splash around the colours of the rainbow.

Amanda hugged herself and tried to rub off the goosebumps erupting on her arms as a cool breeze blew through the lonely place.  She walked slowly, wanting to get there but not too quickly.

She read the names and inscriptions on the headstones and plaques as she passed.  Countless dead, fondly remembered and missed by their friends and family.  It was comforting to know that she was not alone in having lost a loved one.

As she walked on she wondered how they had all died.  Not in a morbid way, but out of curiousity.  Didn’t we all wish to die peacefully in our sleep having lived a full life and seen our children have their own children ?  How many though, had been taken in tragic circumstances, in freak accidents ?  Before their time.  Suffering dehumanizing pain and fearing death.  Leaving those close to them grief stricken, traumatized and mystified.

Her vision blurred as tears surged in her eyes.  She was close now.  Near enough to see the gleaming cross shaped marble plaque.  She could hear herself breathing.

Wincing from the pain in her shin where a steel rod held together smashed bones, Amanda tried to kneel but lost her balance and fell on her side.  Instinctively she reached for her growing bump.  This baby, now six months old in her womb, was all she had left of the man she loved.  Her baby would never know his father, Corey.

She whispered his name as she stroked her bump.

This was the first time since the funeral that Amanda had come to visit Corey’s grave.  She wanted to come earlier but could not.  Even now as she cried, torn apart by grief and guilt she wondered why she had come.  What good was it doing?

No one could convince her she was not at fault.  She had been driving and there was no other vehicle involved.  She alone was to blame and she could not - would not be comforted.  Although her guilt was a crushing weight, she was determined to carry it through her life because she believed she deserved to suffer.

She remembered them saying how lucky it was that the baby had not been harmed and that she would recover from her injuries.  They said it was a miracle and she should be thankful.  Her grief turned to anger as she recalled the platitudes delivered in the name of comfort.  Why should she feel comforted?  Why should she feel better?  Corey was never going to feel better.  He was never going to feel anything.  He was gone.

The only man she ever loved, the father of her unborn child was dead because of her carelessness.  How dare anyone call that a miracle.

She was not grateful.  Amanda was bitter and angry and she would not forgive herself.

Standing up slowly she clenched her teeth as pain shot through her leg.  She wiped her eyes and looked around the deserted cemetery.  Again she felt an affinity with the relatives of the dead.

She noticed the grass and wildflowers growing where they wished.  Unrestrained.  Ants crawled, bees buzzed and butterflies bounced from flower to flower.  So much life among the dead.

In the stillness Amanda fancied she heard a voice in the wind.  A soft and peaceful voice.  She imagined it was Corey calling to her and reaching out to comfort her.  She closed her eyes and although she knew the answer she asked him if he would return to her.

There was no answer but Amanda knew that she would have to continue on the journey without Corey.  She would never understand why.  Why she had lost control of the car on that corner she had rounded hundreds of times before?  Why Corey had died instead of her?  Why their baby suffered nothing from the trauma of the accident?  Why fate or God or whatever had deemed that she live and raise the child alone?

She looked back at the cross on Corey’s gravestone and remembered her husband’s unshakable faith.  That inner peace she admired which shone in his face and sparkled in his eyes.  The God whom Corey loved and trusted had taken him home.  That’s how Corey would have said it. Taken home.

“God has his reasons, honey,” he would often say to her.

It never meant much before, but now as she stood hugging herself in the silence she felt close to him. She accepted that God has his reasons and she received strength, and she received forgiveness.  Amanda was not sure if it was God calling to her or Corey but it did not matter for in that moment she forgave herself.

Placing both hands on her swollen stomach, Amanda whispered to her unborn child,

“Come on Corey, let’s go home.  Mummy feels much better now.”

 

 

D.A. Cairns is married with two teenagers and lives on the south coast of New South Wales where he works part time as an English language teacher and writes stories in his very limited spare time. He has had more than 20 short stories published (but who’s counting right?) He blogs at Square pegs http://dacairns.blogspot.com.au His second novel, Loathe Your Neighbor, is available from Artema Press. http://dacairns.weebly.com

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