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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 front doorbell sounded its gentle Westminster Chimes and the thumping on the door started before Hazel even put her pen down on the papers she was working on intently. More curious than annoyed, she stopped writing, shrugged and started for the door.

 Hazel was put together well in both mind and body. Her toned physique, attractive high-cheeked face, sharply sculpted short blond hair wasn’t frightened by many things. She was more interested in what was happening so noisily at her door. The banging was continuous and, as she crossed the gleaming hardwood floor of the foyer, now a voice joined in which she knew well, Charles Braswell, the husband of her friend, Sally.

She opened the door just as another beat was about to thump her door. The cold wind blew in. "Well,  hello, Char…"

"Is Sally here, Hazy?" Charlie’s face was a map of hardly controlled anger. His tall thin-running-to-soft body seemed rigid with tension, his camel-hair car coat open and blowing in the wind.

"I’ve asked you not to call me Hazy."

"Where’s Sally? I’m looking for Sally."

"I don’t know, Charles." Hazel held her spot in the cold entrance, her hand fixed on the broad, heavy door to prevent any move to come through.

"Don’t call me Charles. It’s Chuck." A clipped, crude remark.

She tilted her head with a slight smirk. "Well, don’t call me Hazy. It’s Hazel...Chuck. -Zel, -zel, =zel."

"What’s the difference, for crying out loud?"

"Hazel is the color of those beautiful eyes of Sally’s. Hazy is how your eyes get after the second Martini."

"Oh, you're always so clever. Where’s Sally is all I want to know. She’s always with you."

"No need to raise your voice. And ‘yes’, we like each other. That’s why we’re friends. But she’s still not here."

Charlie ran his hands through his hair which he must have been doing a lot. It was such a mess. "Geez! Everything’s a wreck."

"How, a wreck, Charlie?"

He spun around on the porch as if he didn’t know where to look, his hands floating around, his coat spreading with the cold wind. He was a picture of exasperation. "Everything. This has gone far enough. She’s not home. There’s no dinner ready. Beds aren’t made. The doors weren’t locked, for god sakes. She didn’t even pick up my shirts at the cleaners. Everything!"

"Did you call the police?"

"I don’t know. And tell them what? And then have her come waltzing in the door."

"Were you fighting?" Hazel almost said ‘again’. His silence meant that he was at her – again. She wanted to clock him right there on the front porch. Beautiful Sally. Yep, she had those mysterious hazel eyes. That slightly Asian looking face and a figure to die for. And a brain that could fascinate someone for hours on end. An intelligent someone. And stupid Charlie was worried about his shirts. He should be thinking of a warm night on a veranda in Mexico with strumming guitars, stars in a midnight blue sky…..and Sally explaining love and marriage to him, while the candles flickered in a gentle sea breeze. "Maybe she’s working on the boat."

"The boat's not there. Gone."

"Maybe she took it out. After all that restoration she’s done, she has to try it out. That’s the professional thing, Charlie. You know she’s practically famous for exacting restoration on boats. And she loves to do it. And she loves to be on the water."

"I’m almost famous, too. I married her to get her away from all that nutty stuff. Scruffy dockyards, oil slicks and orange peals floating in the water." He growled angrily. "She has my whole house to take care of. That’s all she has to do, that’s her job. How does she look at the country club with her hands all stained with dirt and paint?"

Hazel stayed cool and gazed at Charlie still looking and turning on the porch. If he’d had a hat, he’d be twisting it in his hands. "Do you have any idea how rare her talent is, Charlie? A real talent that people from all over the world want. She could do restorations on any one of the continents."

"That's a lot of bull." Charlie was facing the street, not moving. "Her talent. Hah!"

"Yes, her talent." Hazel's voice took on a sharp edge. "She loves it. It's her art, her profession."

Charlie spun around, his face crimson with rage, his nose an inch from Hazel's and shouted, "You promoted all this stuff. Her art? Her profession? I'm her profession! Me!" He pounded his chest. "Yes, Hazy, me!"

Hazel stared him boldly in his angry eyes as she backed away a step and moved her hand to the door handle, ready to close him out. "Who do you think you're shouting at, Charles? Some nobody. Or is everyone a nobody...but you? That's it isn't it, Charlie? Jealousy. Sally's little hobby has turned into big business, huh? She's getting it all, isn't she? Doing her art all over the world, fame and even fortune." Hazel gazed at him as her words tore at his angry agitation. "Jealousy, Charles, huh? And you know what else she gets? Respect, Charles, respect for her talents, respect for being Sally."

"Tell me where she is, Hazel. I think you know. Your best friend forever wouldn't do anything unusual without telling you, would she? The boat's gone. Where's Sally?"

Hazel looked at him while she decided what to do with this wild man. God help Sally. How to do it? "Okay, I'll tell you." 

He stood with his hands shoved into his car-coat pockets. "Maybe I can get some supper tonight. So, where?"

"She's on the boat."

"What the hell is she doing on the boat?"

"She's sailing to Ireland."

For a second Charles was frozen, mouth half open. "Ireland! In Europe?"

"Yes, Charles. That one. That's the true story and you're stuck with it."

"Oh, yeah! Well, we'll see about that. I can get there before she does. I'll be waiting when she lands. I'll fix this...and I'll fix her, too"

"You might have a long wait. She said it's sturdy ship, but a slow boat." Charles swung away and went down the steps two at a time. Hazel added as he climbed into his car, "And it's all about your shirts.....Chuck...ee, babe." Hazel closed the door, walked to the bottom of the second floor staircase and looked up.

*          *          *

The sensuous touch of skin against skin was enhanced by soft music of the guitars at the far end of the veranda and the gentle feel of the warm aromatic breeze. Under the star-filled night sky the hushed rush of the Pacific Ocean against the Mexican shore touched the evening with a promise of subtle excitement.

They shared a luxurious double lounge, body to body with their fingers entwined. Low tables on each side held the empty glasses of their last round of margueritas. A half-roll toward each other and they were face-to-face with their bodies pressing, their ankles entwined and their lips an inch apart.

"Another drink?"

"No. A kiss."

"Is this what you wanted?"

"Better than a dream."

"Not Ireland?" There was a little teasing in the question.

Sally smiled a slow contented smile. "No, Ireland doesn't come close. It's far, far away. All of that, far away. Hold me tight and kiss me again. A long kiss."  They finished face-to-face, their lips still touching lightly.

"You lit a hot fire in me when I first saw you, Sally. And your piercing look, those hazel eyes."

"My hazel eyes. These hazel eyes couldn't stop watching you."

"And this is our life now. You and me. No Ireland, no shirts."

Sally wriggled closer, seductively. "Chuck all that."

"Cute choice of words," said Hazel.

#

 

Bio:  Who ever ran over a whale and what happened? I grew up in the endlessly fascinating New York/New Jersey Metro area. It was a big playground united by tunnels, trains, bridges and ferry boats. My adult territory grew until my zig-zag adventures took me half way around the world. What intrigued me were the revealing behaviors of people I met, the unexpected. Except for running over the whale, everything was people action, all kinds, with all kinds of results. I think that shows up in my stories and books. Life is not neat, everything doesn't turn out just so.

 

 

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