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Latest Stories

November 25, 2025
Crime Stories ML Strijdom

Falling Souffles

The oven timer ringed, and I slid out a tray of ginger cookies. The scent of cinnamon and nutmeg wrapped Knead Bakery in a cozy winter blanket, until Vincent walked in. His gaze is hungry, with thin chapped lips curling into his usual slick smile. His…
November 25, 2025
General Stories Onyinye Maureen Kenneth

Long Night

Nuru Jibri was not observant enough to take cognizant of the armed men as they drove in through the back gate. They came in by 10:30pm. Their vehicles were as firm as the Armored Vehicle of the German soldiers in World War II. Loaded with fiercely Bold men,…
November 25, 2025
Fantasy Stories Christopher Stolle

True Calling And Response

Doctor Who first met William Shakespeare when the future playwright was contemplating marrying Anne Hathaway (no, not that one). The good doctor wondered what Willie was like as a struggling actor who wanted so much more from his life than being a poor player…
November 25, 2025
Romance Stories Jeff Ronan

The Only Thing That Brings You Back

Whenever Layla thought of him, he would return. While shopping for groceries, she’d spot that mango drink he liked, and Theo would appear at the end of the aisle. She would lie awake in bed, imagining the weight of him on top of her, and there he would be at…
November 25, 2025
Flash Fiction Pat Raia

No Talking Day

It was some kind of Catholic retreat day – Lent maybe – I don't remember. But my elder cousin Judy was required by the Mother Superior of Sienna High School to spend the day in total silence exercising discipline, pondering her religious beliefs, and…
November 25, 2025
Fantasy Stories Frank Talaber

A Wizardly Christmas

I came from salt water and will return there one day, dreaming of past lives as the oceans move in their mysterious ways. Other lives, other worlds away, Thomas the former Great Magix of Magixes of Cramadran opened his eyes and stared out of his Vancouver…
November 25, 2025
Mystery Stories Michael Edward Reilly

The Painting The Artist The Frame

VICTORIAN MURDER MYSTERY. “ Jeffrey , Jeffrey Brailsford when did you get back from your travels across Europe “?“ Your Majesty, I arrived back 2 weeks ago “. “Where did you go, how long for, I don't quite remember that “.“ It was a trip for 3 months, I…
November 25, 2025
Crime Stories Tom Kropp

Homicide Astral Agent

Prostitute Dana Wilkins stood five foot two and weighed 105 pounds with a lean figure. Her long auburn hair framed an average looking face with dull brown eyes expressing agony. She was naked on a steel table with all her limbs restrained. She had torch…
November 25, 2025
General Stories Syed Hassan Askari

Two Souls Hanging From One Rope

The morning was quiet when the call came. The SHO said only one sentence: “Come quickly. Your daughter is hanging.” Sania was twenty years old. Soft-spoken. She was gentle and kind. Four years earlier, she walked into her marriage with high hopes, believing…
November 25, 2025
Flash Fiction Abdul Basit

The Melody That Never Played

The sky over Darazinda Tehsil often looked calm, but inside many homes, lives were ruled by fear and old customs. In one of those homes lived Gulalai Khan, a 22-year-old student of English Literature and Language. She was deeply interested in books and…
November 25, 2025
Crime Stories Andrew Nickerson

Three Calls

-June 19, 7:04 p.m. “Hello?” “Is this the home of Johnny Westing?” “Yes, this is his dad, Ian. Who is this?” “My name is Joshua Harlow—” “Oh, you’re the one who just moved into the Howards’ old place?” “Yes, that’s me.” “What can I do for you?” “It’s about…
November 25, 2025
General Stories Ross Salvage

Old Harry’s Game Human Interest Salvage

It’s twelve o’clock on one of those autumnal spring days. The clouds hang expectantly, waiting to pour their copious contents on unsuspecting recipients; gone are the mare’s tails of the morning’s optimistic outlook. Unaware of the drama above, small children…

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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