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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…

The day started pleasantly enough, we’d met for our regular game of tennis, the old reliables, Chris, Marilyn, Malcolm and me. Then the man in the dirty suit appeared and everything changed.

 It was summer and the weather was warm, so we’d used the outside court, the one next to the soccer pitch. We’d been playing for about fifteen minutes when I noticed a guy staggering towards us over the field. When he finally arrived, he stood at the chain-link fence, staring through at us and smiling vacantly. His skin was pale as if he’d been saved from drowning, but his lips were cherry red. Saliva slowly dribbled down his chin and dripped onto the ground. He gripped the wire with both hands and stood there, making mewling sounds, his clothes torn and soiled, as if he’d been sleeping rough. At first we ignored him, but having him there was unnerving, I couldn’t concentrate on my serve. I thought he was drunk or had learning difficulties, and hoped someone would come and take him away. Chris saw himself as the ‘silverback’ and he went over to talk to him. When he didn’t seem to make much progress, the rest of us joined him. Chris asked the guy if he needed help, but he just kept whining and gurgling. I called 911 on my cell but it went to voicemail after a dozen rings.

As we stood there, another visitor shuffled into sight from the direction of town. He had the same pale complexion and red lips, but there was blood on his chin and down the front of his shirt. He looked like the man who runs the hardware store. I took a closer look and realised that he was the guy from the hardware store.

We realised something strange was happening; I told the others I was going to the police headquarters, about five hundred yards away. I walked to my car, Chris padlocked the gate after me. There was a disturbance from the other side of the court, half a dozen more weirdoes had arrived. They all wore police uniforms, but they were dishevelled, with torn shirts, no hats, ties askew, faces bloody. I nearly crapped myself, I jumped in the car and locked the doors. Then the kids from the elementary school arrived, hundreds of them, tousled, bloody, moving slowly. They surrounded the court, and hung on the wire mesh, whimpering and moaning and looking sort of hungry.

I drove to the police station and looked around carefully before I got out of the car. The double doors were open, broken furniture and debris littered the foyer, somewhere in the depths of the building an alarm was ringing. I climbed over the front desk and walked through the empty offices until I found the staircase. I worked my way up through the rooms on the next two stories to the top floor, searching for somebody, anybody. The door from the stairs to the top level was locked. I hammered hard and eventually a face appeared, a frightened face, then another three. They made me turn around to get a good look at me before they opened the door.

“Do you know what’s happening?” asked the blonde girl. I found out later her name was Sally.

“Not really, but look at that.” We could see down into the tennis court from the office window. Marilyn, Chris and Malcolm were standing back to back in the centre of the court, holding their rackets in front of themselves like clubs. The weight of the zombies had flattened the fence, and they slowly streamed over it. The whole town seemed to be out there. I watched in horrified fascination as the zombies slowly surrounded and overwhelmed my friends. A few minutes later they dispersed and there was no sign of them, they’d been absorbed.

***

All this was eight days ago. There are five of us up here, me and the four clerical workers, Wally, Sally, Brian and Sheila. We’ve secured the entrances at ground level and gathered all the food and water we can find. We spend a lot of the time on the flat roof of the building, vainly waiting for a helicopter to come and rescue us. Water won’t be a problem when the water cooler bottles run out: there are fire tanks up here. It’s the food I’m worried about, we haven’t got much of it and small quantities keep disappearing. I’m sure it’s that fat bastard Brian who’s stealing it.

***

The hot weather reminds me of my time in South Africa, watching the bushmen cutting strips of meat from their kill, then drying it in the sun. They call it ‘biltong,’ it keeps for months. I look at Brian and think about quietly sliding a biscuit into his pocket and then denouncing him. I have one of the policemen’s pistols, all I need is an excuse to use it.

End GPA

Roger Ley was born and educated in London and spent some of his formative years in Saudi Arabia. He worked as an engineer in the oilfields of North Africa and the North Sea, before joining the nuclear industry and later pursuing a career in higher education. His stories and articles have appeared in about a dozen ezines this year.

He has published two books:

‘A Horse in the Morning’ is a collection of comic autobiographical stories.

‘Chronoscape’ is a science fiction novel about time and alternate realities.

 

Find him at: rogerley.co.uk

Twitter handle @RogerLey1

 

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