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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…

Roger Roget stepped back from the control panel and threw a switch. There were sparks and a satisfying hum of high voltage. The allotment was secure. Locked down. Nobody would be messing with Roger Roget’s pumpkins. Tomorrow he would move them, somehow. It had been a carefully planned logistical operation, because this year he was going bigger than the Cheshire Show, bigger than Chelsea. Oh yes. This year, Roger Roget was going to Ohio, for the Circleville pumpkin show. He was going to blow the socks off the Americans on their own turf. That had been the plan, until this morning, and that phone call from his carrier.

“I’m sorry, Mr Roget. We’ve, er... we’ve gone into liquidation.”

But he would find a way. He had to find a way.

Because he had Old William. The biggest pumpkin in the world.

For weeks he’d kept guard each night. This was Fortress Roget. No person, animal, or feckless hoodie, would be getting anywhere near his pumpkin patch.

Any who tried would be fried. That was his motto.

He took a last walk around the plot then settled into his red-striped lawn-chair, his Weihrauch .20 calibre air rifle cocked and balanced on his lap, the maximum fire-power that UK law would permit.

Nobody gets at Roger Roget’s pumpkins.

“Hello,” said a soft voice.

Roget spasmed upright, instantly awake. He grabbed for the gun, but the chair collapsed flat beneath him, sending him sprawling amongst his cabbages.

There was a woman, dressed in a ridiculous frilly number standing over him. She was of a certain age, quite attractive, and Roget was instantly nervous and thumbs. He was intimidated by attractive, confident women. And this woman was inside his defensive perimeter, both actually and metaphorically.

“Who are..? How did..?” Words were difficult.

The woman lifted her hand. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Roget saw how the moonlight reflected from her. And there was no moon. He decided he must be dreaming, which worried him even more. If he was dreaming then all manner of brigands might, this very moment, be laying waste to his crop.

“I’ve come for a pumpkin,” said the woman. “I’m told yours are the best.”

“Right, yes,” said Roget. “But they’re not for sale.”

“I only want one,” she said. “That one.” She pointed at Old William, the biggest pumpkin in the world.

Roget had a choking fit.

“I have a... client,” she continued, “Who is in the market for a big pumpkin.”

“No, no, no,”  said Roget. “Not Old William. Not any. We’re off to Ohio.”

“Only need it until midnight.”

“No.”

“Won’t harm it.”

“No.”

“I can deliver it when I’m done. To... Ohio?”

“Ah, well then.”

#

Best in show. Roger Roget had never felt so proud. The Americans had been, as hoped, blown sockless.

Roger didn’t even mind that Old William now sported gold and silver trim, windows, and wheels.

It was, officially, the biggest, and best, pumpkin in the world.

 

<END>

 

Bio:

Mjke is a winner of Writers of the Future, and the Jim Baen Memorial contest. His flash story, Call Me Murph, appeared in Short-Story.Me in September 2012. Other recent publications include Lamplight, Abyss and Apex and Kasma SF.

Mjke plays jazz saxophone in a Big Band and by day works as a Management Accountant. He lives on the Wirral, in the UK, with his wife, Sarah, a botanical artist.

Website: Mjkewood.com

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