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Submitted to Contest #337
The Rewind I learned to pause time on Tuesdays because that was when he called. Not the world — just myself. I would hold my breath, keep my face still, and preserve my life exactly as it was while his voice crossed three countries and a poor internet connection to reach me. I couldn’t prevent his words from arriving, nor my responses from forming, but I could sit within the moment and decide which version of myself he was permitted to hear. By the time I pressed play again, I was certain he believed I had simply been thinking.He never notic...
Submitted to Contest #334
The WolfOnce upon a time — grrrr — he hated these stories. But sitting around the open fire in the cosy cottage, surrounded by the family of choice he loved, he found he didn’t mind them at all — especially when the children asked for the forest story.“Tell us again,” they begged. “Tell us about the forest. Tell us when you met Grandma and Mama — tell us, tell us.”The old male wolf remembered the time when the weather had begun to change, when the forest floor was turning wet and slippery, and the first snowflakes were not far away. Some for...
Submitted to Contest #329
It was a dark and stormy night, the kind that made shadows flicker and cupboards groan. Bea was quite sure the power cut had nothing to do with the weather and everything to do with her landlord forgetting to pay the bill again. Still, the wind howling around her block wasn’t helping her nerves. She sat at the kitchen table, clutching a mug of rapidly cooling tea, when she heard a sound. Not a moan. Not rattling chains. Just... someone clearing their throat politely. “Absolutely not,” she muttered. “I am not being haunted during a blackout....
Submitted to Contest #324
I’d imagined the sea air would heal everything. A few days alone by the coast, I told myself, would clear my mind and leave me calm — perhaps even glowing. Instead, I arrived at a “boutique guesthouse” that smelled of air freshener and regret, and was shown to a room described online as sea-view adjacent — meaning that if I stood on the bed and leaned left, I could glimpse about an inch of water between two wheelie bins. Down on the beach, bronzed families were already out — squealing, slathered in sun cream, confident in their purpose. I sp...
Submitted to Contest #320
Joyce’s retirement had not gone at all as she expected. In truth, it had gone better. Those first weeks in the log cabin had been dreadful: alone, anxious, and shadowed by the forest pressing in on every side. She barely dared step beyond the porch. Then a half-starved bobcat appeared one morning, bold as brass, demanding food. She named him Ginger, and through him found not only Robert, the vet next door, but a circle of neighbours who walked their dogs each day beneath the ponderosa pines. By the time Ginger was strong enough to return to ...
Submitted to Contest #319
The Ginger Cat Joyce sat gazing at the blinking cursor, each flash marking another second gone without words. It taunted her: Retirement, and still you can’t start! She had run out of excuses. For years, her full-time job had been the barrier between her and the novel she’d promised she would write one day. It had all been excuses. Now there was nothing but time — and nothing in her mind. She had written three dreadful sentences that morning, erased the last, and shut the laptop with a snap. No more excuses. No deadlines. No boss. Just you,”...
Submitted to Contest #314
CW: Mentions animal abuse. My first family consisted of two older adults and, I believe, three children. I loved the youngest one dearly — she was adorable. But the others? They weren’t kind, and I didn’t like them very much.I was born on the streets to a lovely mother. I had three siblings, and I never imagined we’d be separated. But I was wrong. One day, a tall man shoved his coarse hands into our warm den and ripped us all away from Mum. They crammed us into a cardboard box, then into cages at a noisy market — no food, no water, nowhere t...
Submitted to Contest #310
He hadn’t written for years and now led a quiet, somewhat grumpy life in Chiang Mai. Once mildly famous for a debut novel in the ‘80s, he’d since produced nothing but half-finished drafts and the occasional smug email. As a 68-year-old (but only ever admitting to 55), he lived in Chiang Mai, a small city in northern Thailand. Popular with tourists, there was something exciting happening nearly every night of the week. So, his limited writing skills, such as they were, didn’t bother him - as long as his royalty cheque kept arriving. Whenever ...
Winner of Contest #307 🏆
Mavis was now in her second year of retirement. Most days, she found things to do, but to be honest, she felt bored. Money was tight; it always had been. For decades, she’d worked for a large cleaning company that serviced offices, shopping malls, and municipal buildings. The staffroom was always full of women, but they weren’t exceptionally social. They exchanged greetings, asked after each other’s families, then hurried home to husbands and children who needed feeding and fussing. After Clive’s early death, Mavis simply got on with it — to...
Submitted to Contest #302
I’ve always had the gift of the gab—able to talk to anyone, anytime, anywhere, as long as it was in English.Before arriving in China, I hadn’t seriously considered the possibility of a language barrier. I assumed everyone spoke at least a little English and that I, brimming with confidence, could talk my way around the world—until China defeated me.In Malaysia, I worked at a zoo placement arranged by an English charity. My supervisor spoke English, taxi drivers could hold their own, and the glossy malls were a breeze. I even befriended Awan...
Submitted to Contest #299
Mild, comic reference to sex. It all began with a suspicious little limp in my right leg — the kind that whispers, ‘Hello, ageing’. In 2016, newly retired and full of misplaced confidence, I landed in Chiang Mai, Northern Thailand — a new country, a new city, a new culture, and a new currency that, thanks to my hopeless numeracy, made every purchase feel like spinning a roulette wheel. Exploring new surroundings on foot has never seemed a problem. Initially, I walked everywhere, rarely bothering to learn any of the foreign names of the roads...
Submitted to Contest #298
The Sloth Sanctuary Social Club Neil, Natty’s husband, left her for a much younger woman, and at the time, she failed to recognise what a colossal favour he had done her. Lonely and distressed, Natty left the city that had been her marital home and moved to London. Despite still spending her working days in a mundane office job, she began to be offered life opportunities beyond her wildest dreams. As part of a new marketing initiative at her finance company, she applied to represent it in Borneo, working alongside a well-known animal chari...
Submitted to Contest #295
"Passengers of the Underground" She awoke in a panic and, raising herself from the bed, noticed how much she was sweating. “Phew, that was a strange dream,” she told herself, willing her heartbeat to calm down. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and padded softly on her bare feet across her flat towards the window. She began to understand what had woken her as she identified muffled shouting, car alarms blaring, and distant sirens, and as she looked out, she was amazed to see so many people out and about in the dark. It took Irene...
Submitted to Contest #293
I remember taking a long-distance plane journey to Sydney. My memory tells me instantly that it was a considerable time ago because I had purposefully chosen a window seat. Nowadays, as an older woman, I always choose an aisle seat for easier access to the needs of a senior. I was the first to claim my allocated seat in the three-seater row of the Korean aircraft. I admired the lovely uniforms of the staff, cheerfully noted the individual viewing screens on the seat backs, and soon stretched my feet out in front of me and wiggled my body fur...
Submitted to Contest #276
Sam had just received an email from Amy, the daughter of a recently deceased friend. Sam had never met the daughter and, frankly, was unlikely to. In the email, Amy, recently reaching her 50th year, wrote to tell Sam about rejoining the dating scene. After exchanging a dozen emails with Amy about the single life, she finally admitted that, at 70, finding romance wasn’t exactly on her agenda… or so she’d thought. Quite honestly, looking at the average 70-year-old male didn’t appeal. Not only was it unlikely that the experience ...
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