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Latest Stories

November 29, 2025
Flash Fiction L Christopher Hennessy

The Desperation Of A Man

In the drowned city of Nueva Esperanza, where the rain never ceased and the streets glowed with the like of broken billboards, Mateo lived alone in a crumbling tower. The elevators had long since stopped, so he climbed the stairs each night, counting them,…
November 29, 2025
Mystery Stories Dexter F. I. Joseph

Incomplete

She walked into the office, sighting him by the desk hunched over, seemingly looking tired of waiting for her. She made way to her seat, sat down and took her glasses off, gently placing them on the table. Watching his face and body language, she sought signs…
November 29, 2025
Flash Fiction Nelly Shulman

Game Over

It was never violent. The famous host, tall and spindly as a stork, perched at a podium where the all-powerful Machine, hidden somewhere deep in the bowels of the Propaganda Ministry, displayed a bundle of numbers on the screen. The host smiled heartily, and…
November 29, 2025
Science Fiction Stories Jim Henderson

Making Memories

Jared was half dozing at his desk, listening to relaxing ocean sounds on his phone, when a small alarm beeped and flashed on his computer screen, then another. He clicked on one and leaned forward to see the details. The alert gave a time hack and said,…
November 29, 2025
Crime Stories Tom Kropp

Vicious Valkyrie

 Supervisory CIA agent Kelly Oshanonhand stirred in her sleep disturbed by something. The moonlight beamed through a gap in the curtains of her hotel room offering some visibility in the darkness. Kelly had long, fluffy blond hair and bright blue--green hazel…
November 29, 2025
Science Fiction Stories Frank Talaber

Ponce De Leon Was Such A Bloody Idiot

I screamed in agony for a week; burning, every cell in my body on fire. The injections were easy enough, once a day for seven days. Being strapped up in bed beside several others screaming in a symphony of holy torture wasn't. "How are you doing, Mr. James?…
November 29, 2025
General Stories Michael Barlett

Appropriation

CHAPTER ONE The great man’s bodyguard stood with his mouth agape, as the photographer darted across the room and plucked the cigar from Winston Churchill’s mouth. It was 1941, and the British Prime Minister had visited Washington and was now in Ottawa to…
November 29, 2025
Horror Stories Thomas Wetzel

How To Survive Until Tomorrow

STEP ONE: First you have to kill the dog. If you don’t kill the dog you won’t be able to get downstairs, and the house is already going up in flames, so you really don’t have much time and the dog is always right there at the top of the staircase, growling…
November 29, 2025
Flash Fiction Sani Ibrahim

The Poisoned Soil

Arthur Finch was, by all accounts, the neighborhood’s kindly old grandfather. He lived in Number 12, the house with the impossibly neat lawn and the rose bushes that were the envy of the street. His days followed a gentle rhythm: morning coffee on the porch,…
November 29, 2025
Science Fiction Stories L Christopher Hennessy

The Neon Sky Doesn't Care

- for my daughter, my only child - I swear, the city was humming at me. Not like a song, not like anything you’d want to dance to. More like a migraine that had learned how to breathe. That’s what Neon Sky does—it breathes. You walk under it, and it’s like…
November 29, 2025
General Stories Jason Smith

Quality Family Time

Elsa looked out of the window at the wet and windy weather, she hadn’t wanted to leave Los Angeles and move to Seattle. After years of struggling and with one year of high school left, she’d felt like she was getting somewhere at school. Now with the move,…
November 29, 2025
Science Fiction Stories L Christopher Hennessy

A Stitch In Time

" If you could change one thing about the past, " Doctor Millburn asked, " what would it be? It's a serious question, Mister Shriver. " " It's Jadey, " I said. " My dad was Mister Shriver. I'm not him. " Millburn was checking my eyes with a Y shaped optical…

Wimbledon has begun and our house is full of excitement. The tennis season always evokes tremendous enthusiasm from the LOH(Lady of the House). She even sacrifices her "Bold and Beautiful" TV time to "Prime Sports" and literally leaves Brooke holding her baby. Not that she is a great tennis lover, but she is an ardent fan of Ms Maria Sharapova. She watches every match that Ms Sharapova plays and her prayers for Ms Sharapova's victory become loud and clear.

I have only to applaud or comment "Well played" on a point scored by Ms Sharapova's opponent and she threatens me with a boycott which I can ill afford. Her comments while watching Ms Sharapova at play are so knowledgeable.

"Just watch! She is going to win today. She is wearing black bangles on her wrist," she exclaims in glee. Ms Sharapova's defeats are attributed to not wearing black bangles or some other trinket that the great tennis star is fond of wearing.

The other day she was absolutely ecstatic with Maria's performance.

"You know I am going to name my granddaughter Maria," she enthused.

"Don't you think that is going a bit too far?" I queried.

"Why what is wrong with it?" she countered. "We have to name her something and Maria is my favourite person."

"But what happens if she doesn't play tennis when she grows up?" I asked.

"She will play tennis," she said with finality typical of her. "And she will become a world champion too."

"And how are you going to ensure that?" I egged her on. Now she was in full flight. Her runaway fancy got the better of her.

"Catch them young! That's what I will do," she went on. "I shall give her a silver tennis racket in place of a rattle when she is born. She will develop a good firm grip right from day one," she added.

"And what about the black bangles?" I said tongue in cheek.

"Yes," she said, "She will get those too. I shall arrange to have her coached from childhood. I shall show her all the video cassettes of all Maria's matches that I am recording. I will make her a world champion. And when she does win the Wimbeldon..."

"She will tell the world 'I owe my success to my grandma. There are people who are born with a silver spoon in their mouths, but I was born with a silver racket in my hand.'" I interrupted her.

"Yes." The faraway look in her eyes and the smile of intense satisfaction on her face told me she was already dreaming of the moment.

"Come on, Darling. She has got to be the first Indian woman to sail round the world single handed," I said. The sailor in me got the better of me even though discretion dictated otherwise.

"Don't be ridiculous," she snubbed me. "When was the last time you won a race. You and your sailing! It's always some protest or the other, or a gear failure or whatever."

She did have a point there.

"But what can I do? You only pray for Ms Sharapova's win and not mine," I countered.

"I only pray for winners," she said.

"But they don't need your prayers."

Just then our son walked in. We were just warming up and the domestic battle was enjoined. He had gathered soon enough what it was all about.

"Mom and Dad, what makes you think that your granddaughter will become a sports person at all? Don't I have a say in the matter?" he asked.

"And pray what has this got to do with you?" said the LOH.

"She'll be my daughter."

"No she will be my granddaughter and she will play tennis. And that’s that," the LOH responded.

"But Mom..."

"I'll have no buts from you young man. And another squeak from you and ...."

"So Mom, you agree to my marrying ...."

"Over my dead body," she said.

"But..."

"Don't you think this is all a trifle premature?" I put in a word edgewise. That is all that I can manage on such mother-son confrontations. He is only eighteen and our dream granddaughter has many years yet before she arrives. But while we wait here is more strength to Ms Sharapova and I hope our granddaughter is not beaten to being the first Indian Woman to sail solo round the world.

 

End

 

Bio:   I have served for over 33 years in the Indian Army Corps of Engineers and am retired now. Love writing humour and short stories. I have also written books on Military History and Management. Some of my short stories were published when I was much younger. Professional commitments pushed my fiction writing to a stand still. I have the time and the inclination now and wish to share my wit with others.

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