-The best stories on the web-
Read or link to over 1000 stories listed under Stories to the left.
Submit your short stories for review as a Word document attached to an email to: Read@Short-Story.Me

Latest Stories

July 08, 2025
General Stories Michael Barlett

Dance Of Death

CHAPTER ONE 1940 Chief Inspector Kenneth Langford offered the Commissioner a crisp salute, and then walked back through the labyrinth of passageways to his own small office. Langford was a member of the London Metropolitan Police, commonly referred to as…
July 08, 2025
Poetry Markus J

The Winter Blues

the winter blues has a grip on me, all so tight Its icy tentacles wrap around me and squeezes freezing my fingers and toes with its nasty frostbite staving off the cold is a battle, an endless fight it brings forth an assortment of nasty diseases The winter…
July 08, 2025
Horror Stories Sushma R Doshi

Deliverer Of Messages

A loner in my childhood, my scrawny and weak figure prone to being bullied by sturdy and robust boys, I tended to wander around places frequented by few. Those curvy roads which fell into darkness after evening without street lights, the area near the pond…
July 08, 2025
General Stories L Christopher Hennessy

With A Side-Eye I Cherish

for Brittany ma amour Up to my neck in sadness for something just out of reach and she came along and fired up my life with kisses and the physical. The moment I looked into her eyes I didn't want to share her with anyone else and keep her all to myself. In…
July 03, 2025
Poetry Markus J

The Days Of Future Dreams

the days of future dreams the flames once rose high thinking our lives would end up supreme thinking our future seemed a far of dream but in the end nothing is what it seems many times the winds of changed has blown this way one minute we`re lapping the cream…
July 03, 2025
General Stories L Christopher Hennessy

Bad Girl

Part 1I lost the entire manuscript when I assassinated my laptop with sauvignon blanc as I rubbed the lower back of a woman who dozed drunk on my bed, sweating. She was crazed, somewhere between screaming and lying about the orgasm. Bree was a miracle to me,…
July 03, 2025
Horror Stories Nelly Shulman

Black Is Our Colour

“I swear she could have been you. Look! This girl is your long-lost twin.” Fi nudged me, and I smiled. “Never had or wanted one.” I stood up. “Let’s go, or the bargain hunters will clear the shelves before us.” We dived into the vintage emporium across the…
July 03, 2025
Poetry Markus J

The Transformation

"I need a brake" words that twisted my heart- shattering the dream that we would never part. I asked myself 'what ever did I do wrong? sad, gloominess could`ve easily been my song. I wouldn't let the anger and misery grow or cultivate- uprising feelings I…
July 03, 2025
Flash Fiction Benoit

Jae

It was Jae’s birthday today. She turned eight. What a beautiful sunny girl! Hyo planned a surprise or two; Li, his wife, did too. Birthday cake, a puppy and … Don’t forget, they grinned just before he drove off. Traffic was intense. A long call came from…
July 03, 2025
General Stories Matias Travieso-Diaz

Fear

Leandro stood outside the Kroger, leaning forward as he shivered in the early March dawn. He hated this moment: the cold, the fatigue, the feeling of helplessness, the anticipation of another day ahead at his degrading job picking collard leaves under the…
July 03, 2025
Horror Stories Mihko Askiweno

Found You

Panic gripped her as she staggered up the steep, rocky incline, breath coming in jagged, shallow gasps. Sweat streamed down her face in torrents, her hair clinging to her forehead and cheeks in disheveled clumps. Her legs trembled with exhaustion, molten fire…
July 03, 2025
Poetry Markus J

Lost On The Path

But alas; sometimes I think we've lost our way- too many strayed opinions...one too many a survey. Walking on the road ahead, just following the herd of sheep- with a hypnotised mind, wide awake yet very fast asleep. While yelling...join the team of the…

Stop that! - Editor

Saying Goodbye to Grandfather

by M. J. Waller

We shuffled out of the alley, took a right turn and bore down slowly upon Avonlea Care Home for Elderly Zombies.  When we reached the cast iron gates, my father buzzed the intercom to gain access and they swung open ponderously in front of us.  My father made to step inside the grounds but I held back, suddenly fearful and not so keen to see my grandfather any longer.

“Come on, Calum,” my father urged.  “It'll be fine, really.”

I still hung back, not particularly convinced.  The care home was nothing like I imagined it would be.  Thin grass speckled the vast grounds and, here and there, dotted about mostly in areas closer to the cracked pathway, the odd flower grew, sometimes even in bunches of five or six.  A single tree stood a short distance from the gate and not only did it look alive and healthy, but my eyes caught movement high up of a squirrel darting between the branches. . .no of two squirrels racing each other to the tree's crown. . .of three, of four!  A bird burst from out of the upper foliage.

“Come on.” I tore my eyes from the flying bird and glanced again into the grounds.  It was all just so unnatural.  My father held out a hand and I darted towards it, anxious for the touch of something I could depend on, something safe.  Even the smell here was all wrong.  The reassuring reek of death I associated with the safe havens of home, friends' houses and even school, was in this place only a mild stench.

“That's it,” comforted my father.  “We'll just make it a quick visit. We won't be long, I promise.”

I nodded and bound my arms even more tightly around his own, wishing that he had yielded to my mother's protestations that I should remain at home with her after all.  But my father was adamant that I should come.  Dementia eventually claimed all the males in his family, he told her, and he insisted I catch a glimpse of what would be my future so that I remembered always never to waste a moment of my present.  I felt as if I had already seen enough.

My father escorted me slowly up the path and as we got closer to the huge, grey cube that was the care home, I saw a number of elderly zombies shuffling about or sitting on benches.  Something wasn't quite right about them, although I couldn't put my finger on what this was, but in a strange way I found their presence oddly reassuring.  I suppose it was because, old, decrepit and falling apart as they might have been, they were at least zombies and hadn't been transformed by their stay into some kinds of unimaginable monsters.

A nurse met us inside the door, clothed in a white uniform stained brown with old blood.  Her body was twisted to the right so that she walked with a limp and she smiled at me, a beaming, gap-toothed smile.  It was comforting to come across somebody in the middle of this place who was obviously still invested with some sort of normal zombinity and I smiled back, shyly accepting the sweet she pulled out of a pocket for me.

“A new hippocampus and spleen variety,” she told me.  “And just wait till you get to the soft centre.  You're here to see Mr. Wainwright, I assume?”

I popped the sweet in my mouth while she and my father discussed my grandfather further.  Hippocampus had always been my favourite flavour sweet, and the delicious tang of spleen combined to give it an exotic, heavenly taste beyond anything I had ever tasted before, until I bit through the crunchy exterior.  Then my taste buds fizzed quite literally and I couldn't stop myself crying out in pleasure.

The nurse gave me another smile.  “Thyroid.  But one enhanced by goitre.  Told you it would be good.”  She turned back to my father.  “Do you want me to show you the way or will you be all right on your own?”

“We'll be fine,” my father told her.  “I can remember the way.”

We shambled off through drab, freshly painted corridors towards whichever room was my grandfather's.  The atmosphere was all wrong still and, if anything, the mild stench had deteriorated further to a pungent smell, but with the taste of the sweet still exploding around the inside of my mouth, these were facts I was only dimly aware of. And then we were waiting outside my grandfather's room.  My father bent down to look me in the eye, his expression suddenly more serious than I ever remembered having seen it before.

“Now, Calum,” he began.  “I want you to know that your grandfather is worse than I realized.  He took another turn yesterday morning and the nurse tells me he's pretty bad so I need you to be brave.  He might look different, he might act different, and he might not even remember who you are or who I am, but remember, whatever you see, he is your grandfather.  Okay?”

I nodded mechanically, suddenly fearful again, then my father opened the door and we stepped inside.

The first thing that hit me was the smell.  There was no hint of death here, only the scent of flowers, tulips I later found out.  The room was well-lit, tidy, and every surface looked spotlessly clean.  It was as if I had walked into an alien world.

But all this was nothing compared to the change I saw in my grandfather.  He too was spotlessly clean.  His clothes, a grey suit with white shirt and blue tie, were carefully ironed, his hair was neatly combed, and his skin. . .his skin had lost much of its greyness and was a scary shade of pale pink.  He was sat at a table with a deck of cards spread across its surface and opposite him sat a man, a human man!

“ Dad!” exclaimed my father.  “What the hell are you doing?”

The human jumped up quickly, backing into the fireplace, his face quickly turning a healthier-looking shade of grey.  My grandfather on the other hand, simply looked confused.

“I'm sorry,” he mumbled.  “Dad?  Who?”

“Your son,” answered my father.  “Ray.  And this is your grandson, Calum.”

My grandfather peered at me.  “Son?  Grandson?  I'm sorry. . .”

He looked so confused, sounded so pitiful that, despite his condition, my heart went out to him and I felt as if I wanted to cry.  My father, however, had flown into a rare rage.

“Yes, son.  Dad. . .I can't. . .I mean, they said you were bad and not eating but, honestly. . .playing with your food like this. . .I never thought. . . .  Look.”

He strode haltingly across the room towards the cowering human, who was trying unsuccessfully to retreat into the small space of the fireplace.

“This isn't a toy.  It's food.”

My father grabbed the human round the throat, held him up in the air and forced him against the wall with one hand.  His other hand punched its way through the man's stomach and emerged again with a handful of intestines.

“See, food.”

He turned, slammed the dying human onto the table and thrust the entrails at my grandfather.

My grandfather looked at them with a dazed expression then up at my father, and back to the human man.  Then his face paled to grey and with a gargled yell, he launched himself up at my father, his son, and clamped a hand around his throat.

I screamed and dived at the both of them, begging and pleading with them to stop, then orderlies in white coats were rushing past me, I was flung into a wall, and the next thing I knew, my father was escorting me from the room, the skin on his right cheek, torn and hanging low.

That was the last time I saw my grandfather undying, and I never did forget it.

©2009

0
0
0
s2sdefault

Donate a little?

Use PayPal to support our efforts:

Amount

Genre Poll

Your Favorite Genre?

Sign Up for info from Short-Story.Me!

Stories Tips And Advice