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Short Stories


Pick of the Litter
Contributor ,
As John watched from the car, he saw his one and only son being bullied at the bus stop. Two larger kids were pointing and laughing; making faces and holding up Coke Bottles in front of their eyes. As they gestured and called him Frankie Four eyes, anger filled the father.
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When I Awoke Alone
Linda Lattin, Columnist
This is a fictional story of friendship, humor, determination, and inner strength - I dedicate this story to my friend Barbara DeRosier.

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Lady in Waiting
Bridget McKern,
When I was a little girl, the term Lady-in-Waiting had a royal tinge about it. It spoke of Royal households and beautiful clothes and extravagant life styles. Coronets and kings.
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Love Always Returns - A Halloween Ghost Story
Contributor ,
It was a month before All Hallows Eve. We were in a Jr. College in Boston. A group of friends were sitting around our dorm room. It happened to be in an old apartment building on Beacon Street.
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Room 112
Tami Richards, Contributing Author
The odor accosting my nostrils as I walked by room 112 sent my stomach reeling. It was all I could do to keep my breakfast down. Covering my nose and mouth with my hands, I ran to the hotel office. I shoved open the glass office door causing the bell that hung from the handle to crash against the glass. I stood there breathing in the soothing aroma of fresh brewed coffee and Link bounded from his apartment.
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Maiden's Blush (Part 2 of 2)
Jessica Farrington,
There are those who view schools and playgrounds as gardens and children as flowers.
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Snow Day At Work
Tami Richards, Contributing Author
I arrived at work just before noon and got soaked walking across the parking lot. I put my mace key chain in my apron pocket, and already the nozzle was ice cold. The KEN'S MARKET sign on the marquee buckled and popped in the increasing wind. The red letters swayed back and forth, sparks shooting out of the quivering letter K. My shoes squeaked throughout the front lobby as I entered the store. The building is only a few years old and has high, exposed-rafter ceilings. Sound carries like it's being shot through a megaphone.
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Maiden's Blush - Part 1
Jessica Farrington,
There are all sorts of gardens and many types of flowers.
As we all know some gardens are forbidden. More importantly some flowers are much more delicate than others.
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A Rose
Carolynne (Lynne) McPherson, Contributing Writer
She received her first rose just after winning the contest. His call that afternoon offered words of congratulations and tentatively asked if she had liked the rose.
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Hidden Angel
Ronelle Faulks,
On a hot December day, Jennifer lowered her sixty-four year old frame gratefully into the cushioned chair in the small alcove of the coffee lounge. She was exhausted. Little did she know that in a few minutes time her life would change forever.
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Caught on Camera
Kathlyn Fauchon,
My Heart aches for the people who lost their lives, homes and property in the resent bushfires.
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Witness
Nancy Oloro Robarts,
I am tossing in bed. The papyrus mat creaks. The night is filled with nightmares. I am running. Sometimes I am falling. Dark pits everywhere. Red eyes chase me.
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A Bundle of joy
Nancy Oloro Robarts,
A shrill scream of a lone child pierced the midday silence. Asio wondered who would let a child out in the scorching sun.
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The Best Friend
Hamidah Gul,
Bedtime is perhaps the most peaceful time for most human beings. It is a time when you can lie down, switch off your busy mind and rest easy knowing that when you wake up, things may just be better. You close your eyes to the ugliness of the world, and you revel in the silence that slumber brings as you tumble into serenity.
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Damaged
lorna darden, Avon Sales Representative
I was taught that you have to give respect in order to receive it. Even though a drug addict and alcoholic raised me, my parents so called had morals. My dad would always say I would never be any good. He demanded respect, even while he would snort his powder right in my face. I did not care. I did anything I wanted.
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Bags
Carolynne (Lynne) McPherson, Contributing Writer
Memories play like ripples in the pool of my mind. Some memory pools are shallow, whilst others are deep. Some form slow ripples, whilst others produce a rush of interconnected images. Throw the stone of a word into the pond and see what ripple of a memory it produces. What of the word, “bag”? What ripples does that produce?

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The Male Ego and the Woman
Sandra Scott,
The argument started almost the minute he entered in from the world outside. Tired, despondent and worn out from the day-to-day drudgery of working for an insipidly indolent boss, the man sought to regroup emotionally by retreating into the safe haven of his own home.
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My Favourite Piece of Clothing
Carolynne (Lynne) McPherson, Contributing Writer
The first version of my favourite piece of clothing was given to me on my thirteenth birthday. That day my father produced a box covered by an oversized ribbon. It was a truly elegant box. It certainly did not fit well in the hands of a pubescent, pimpled, plump girl of thirteen. What an antithepy of opposites!
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Casualty of War
Jennifer Smith,
He was mute and catatonic for a decade, since the First World War, I think, housed in a secure facility for the psychotic idiots that could never get it together.
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HOPE
Jennifer Smith,
The children inside the train visibly trembled in both anticipation and fear. They looked through the windows at the adults lined up and down the train station as the train whistled and signaled their arrival.
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Lost Memory
Carolynne (Lynne) McPherson, Contributing Writer
Bill arrived early and stood to the back of the party quietly watching. The party was not his idea of fun but he had promised his brother that he would go. He did not know anyone so he stood alone, too shy to enter into a conversation. Self consciously playing with his wine glass, he took the occasional sip and watched the door. “If he doesn’t come soon”, he thought, “I’m leaving”.
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The Two out of Ten Group
Carolynne (Lynne) McPherson, Contributing Writer
Life has many jobs. Some good. Some bad. All different. And all in different parts of the world.


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Cinderella
Carolynne (Lynne) McPherson, Contributing Writer
The true story of Cinderella, the rags to riches lady of fame, was finally revealed today when Cinderella’s trusty secretary, Sir Theodore Mouse, won a yearlong legal battle through the American Supreme Court. The American Supreme Court decision supported the mouse’s testimony that Cinderella had violated a verbal commitment made some twenty years previously.
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