Like A Shot

Like A Shot

Roger Noons

A large glass of Limeade

 ‘Norris!’

    ‘Yes sir?’

    ‘What are you doing on Saturday?’

    ‘Nothing in particular sir.’

    ‘Yes you are. You’re in the school team for the District Sports; it’s at Bromsgrove. Be here at nine o’ clock, I’ll take you.’

    ‘In which event sir?’

    ‘Er … discus … and shot of course.’

    ‘Right oh sir.’

    He glared; my expression obviously came within his definition of ‘familiarity.’

 Saturday arrived, and I stood at the bus stop with my bag.

    ‘Do you have to go on a Saturday now Ralph?’

    ‘No Mrs Wyre, I’m in the school team for the District Sports.’

    ‘That sounds grand!’

    I nodded, smiled, and stood back to let her get on the bus.

    ‘Good luck!’ she shouted, as I climbed the stairs.

At ten minutes past four in the afternoon, I was awaiting the 137 to return home, when our neighbour waddled towards me. She was festooned with shopping bags; her husband’s old haversack over her right shoulder.

    ‘Hello young ’un,’ she grinned.

    ‘You’re loaded down Mrs Wyre, let me help you.’

    ‘Been to the market, haven’t I; stocked up with clothes and things for our holiday. We’re off to Weston next Saturday.’

    While I was considering a response, she leaned towards me. ‘How did you get on then?’

    ‘Fourth,’ I answered, ‘in the discus.’

    ‘That sounds good, out of how many?’

    ‘Fourteen schools, I think.’

    ‘Very good!’

    ‘I came second in the shot putt.’

    ‘Is that where they throw them canon ball things?’

    ‘Yes,’ I smiled.

    ‘You want to watch you don’t drop it on your foot!’

  

The bus stopped with a squeal of brakes. I stayed back, then followed her along the lower deck, limping.

About the author

Having spent the best part of thirty five years writing reports on such subjects as ‘Provision of Caravan Sites for Travellers’ and ’Aspects of Pest Control in the Urban Environment’, Roger Noons began even more creative writing in 2006, when he completed a screenplay for a friend who is an amateur film maker. After the film was made, he wrote further scripts and having become addicted, began to pen short stories and poems. He occasionally produces memoirs and other non-fiction. He has begun to perform his poems, and has just published ’An A to Z by RLN’, an anthology of 26 short stories. He intends by the end of the year to have followed that up with a novella.

He is a member of two Writers Groups and tries his hardest to write something every day. As well as CafeLit, he has had credits in West Midlands newspapers, The Daily Telegraph, Paragraph Planet, Raw Edge and a number of Anthologies.

Roger is a regular contributor to the CafeLit site and a couple of his stories have been selected for the Best of CafeLit 2012.

Star Man

Ana Salote

Star Man

Baileys Comet*

Beyond the ruined walls, the long-horned cattle lay down in Outer Hebridean darkness. Above me the stars wheeled: Cassiopaeia, Ursa Major. I held a candle to the old church wall and marvelled. Unmistakably it was there. At the feet of Christ, in the same ancient flaking pigments, was the figure of an astronaut.

About the author

Ana Salote is the author of Tree Talk, an environmental parable, and Oy Yew, a gothic fantasy. Oy Yew was longlisted for the Times/Chicken House award for children's fiction.

http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6550013.Ana_Salote

*1 part Buttersctoch schnapps, 1 part Baileys Irish Cream,1 Part Goldschlage,1 part floating (i.e. poured over the back of a spoon) sambuca

A Tight Squeeze

Carol Bevitt

A Tight Squeeze

A Strawberry Flapper (cocktail)

From the window at the top of the stairs, Verity could see the pink stretch limo waiting at the kerbside; it was already occupied by half a dozen, perfumed, painted and barely dressed giggling girls.

               Linda swore they were her best friends and just had to be invited to her hen night.

               Verity glanced at her watch. If her sister didn't get out of the bathroom in the next two minutes they’d be holding the party without her.

               As she reached the bathroom door she could hear Linda’s mobile beep, and it kept on beeping.

               ‘Linda!’ Verity rapped on the door briskly, and then knocked harder. ‘Are you okay in there? Do you need help?’

               The mobile beeped again … and again.

               Verity shook her head in disbelief; she knew what Linda had done. She’d ignored her advice and bought the wrong size. ‘Linda. Say something!’

               She pressed her ear against the door and listened. There were noises. Sounds of huffing and puffing, then a muffled exclamation that sounded like, ‘Bugger!’ followed by a loud thump.

               ‘Right. I don’t care how little you’re wearing. I'm coming in!’

                Verity turned the handle and thrust open the door.

                Suspended over the bath was a pair of flailing legs protruding from a shiny white cocoon like a hyperactive squid, with red manicured tentacles. Somewhere inside was her sister.

                  ‘Idiot. You didn't read the instructions, did you? Stop wriggling; this is difficult enough as it is. I'm going to pull you up. Now don’t move until I tell you. Okay?’

               There was a faint gasp in reply.

               Legs akimbo, Verity hauled the body from the tub and stood it upright. It wobbled.

                ‘Next time. Remember. You don’t put Shapewear on over your head.’

About the author

Carol Bevitt lives in the East Midlands. She splits her writing time between creating short stories, and occasional flash fiction, while concentrating on historical romances, which she’s writing under her pseudonym, Serena Lake. Both had stories included in the One Word Anthology e-book published in 2012.

Blog: http://carol-bevitt.blogspot.co.uk/

100 Worder Assassin’s Lament

100 Worder

Gayle Beveridge

Assassin’s Lament

Absinthe – Death in the Afternoon

         

She was in his sights but it wasn’t time yet. It was her inaugural open air address as president. There was a bonus due him if he assassinated her during her first sentence.  

               A shame; she was his country’s great hope, an honest politician, an end to corruption. His employers had expected her to lose but the people had voted otherwise.

               Hell, he’d voted for her.

               She stepped up to the podium. 

               He fired. One shot to the head. Her first word was only a puff from her lips. 

               It was as planned, he was the best of his kind.

About the author

Gayle loves her family, dogs, sunsets and chocolate. Her stories appear in anthologies, including Award Winning Australian Writing 2009 and 2012, Mosaic, The Umbrella’s Shade and Vegemite Whiskers. She has placed in Australian and international competitions and tweets very short stories on twitter @GayleBeveridge. More about Gayle at: http://www.ficklefiction.com

100 Worder Uncoupled

100 Worder

Rosie Canning

Uncoupled

Sparkling wine to hide the taste

I knew she would be there, dressed in bright colours to show her unsadness.

               Even now I can hear them banging on the door. He never loved her like he loved me. 'Only next of kin,' said the bitch at the hospital. I hurried away with his keys and locked all the doors. He once told me he had to get married. I had always said no, it would only spoil what we had. I will stay here, in his bed, with the smell of him all around me. I’m spending my last hours close to his things.

About the author

Rosie Canning is a co-founder of Greenacre Writers. She has written several short stories and flash fiction pieces which have been long/short-listed in competitions and published in anthologies and online.

100 Worder A Ruinous Package

100 Worder

John Byatt

A Ruinous Package

Mother's Ruin – a shot of something explosive

It was my finger sliding underneath the parcel tape that set alarm bells clanging within me. Everything slipped into slow motion, like a replay of a winning goal. But I couldn't stop my finger from careering to the opposite end of the package. A muffled click came and went, and it was too late. Only as my spine shattered against the filing cabinet, my arms tore away left and right, my legs split downwards, opening out like a fan, and my head spun like a ball through the shattering window, did I realise that my blood would ruin the carpet.

About the author

John Byatt lives in SW England where he writes science fiction stories for the fun of it, but would like to publish something in the future. John has only been writing for a few years, aside from a few poems now and then, but is now trying to make up for lost time, being best inspired by the sea.

The only thing he has had published so far is a

couple of flash fiction stories in One Word Anthology, available at http://alfiedog.com/products-page/ebooks/one-word-anthology-talkback-writers/

100 Worder The Journey

100 Worder

Roger Noons

The Journey

Ein Berliner Pils

When I arrived at Checkpoint Brava, chaos prevailed. I did as directed, parking in a lane for foreigners. I remained in the driving seat. Each time after receiving the signal, I edged forward, until it was my turn. A police officer appeared on each side.

“Papers.”

I offered my passport, GDR Entry Visa and the documents relating to the Opel. After what seemed an age, they were passed back, and as the officer gave the signal for the barrier to be raised, his colleague opened the passenger door and jumped in. She squeezed my hand as I accelerated.

About the Author

Roger is a regular contributor to the CaféLit site and a couple of his stories have been selected for theBest of CaféLit 2012.

100 Worder Tomorrow

100 Worder

Janet Bunce

Tomorrow

Black Velvet

What if I woke up tomorrow to find an alternative world?

That light was dark and dark was light. Not possible thought Cathy, the factual scientist sleeping in that in-between world. What makes today seem different though? Could it be that the ceiling is lower than remembered? Is the bed narrower than before? She moves wondering why her toes touch wood. Surely the bed end was not that close? Suddenly eyes open seeing the confines of a box — a coffin? Panic sets in but then she remembers although no-one else notices that she is already dead. Tomorrow is the same…

About the author

Janet Bunce is a director in financial services with a latent creative side. She lives in Epping Forest with her husband and tortoise and would like to write full time.

  

100 Worder Promises

100 Worder

 

Roger Noons

 

Prayers

 

Cocoa in a Snoopy Mug

 

 

‘Right, off to bed now, and don’t forget to say your prayers.’

‘No Mummy.’

 

Timmy shuddered as he entered his bedroom. He always brushed his teeth, as he did not want them to fall out, but he hated the lingering minty taste.

He drew back the top sheet and underlying blanket, and then knelt, resting his forearms on the mattress. He closed his eyes and leant forward.

‘God bless ...’ he paused, opened his eyes. He swallowed and again closed his eyes; pressed the palms of his hands together.

‘God bless Mummy … and please stop Daddy hurting me.’

 

 

 About the Author

Roger is a regular contributor to the CaféLit site and a couple of his stories have been selected for theBest of CaféLit 2012.

100 Worder My Name’s Jones

100 Worder

Alan Cadman

My Name’s Jones

Martini … shaken, not stirred

Jack’s job wasn’t very exciting; sales, commission only. He made it interesting, during his pitch to the customer, by pretending to be someone else. He stepped out of his car and buttoned up his coat.

Tonight, Jack thought, I’m going to be the world’s most famous spy.

Clutching his Quality Fitted Kitchens briefcase, he sauntered up a driveway and tapped on a door. When it creaked open he raised one eyebrow. “My name’s Jones … Jack Jones.”’

His eyes widened as a woman, stroking a white Persian cat on her arm, replied, “I’ve been expecting you, Mr Jones.”’

About the author

Alan has been writing short stories for six years. Before that, he was the editor of a civic society newsletter for seven years. When he first started writing fiction, his published work was rewarded with complimentary copies from magazines. His first cheque arrived on Christmas Eve 2009.

In 2011 he made the short list for one story and became a prize winner for flash fiction. Alan also won first prize, of £100, in a poetry competition in 2013. The last three accolades were awarded by the same best-selling UK magazine for writers. Alan’s work has been read out on Internet radio and his stories are now published in hard copy magazines and e-zines.

100 Worder South of the River after Midnight

100 Worder

Charlie Wade

South of the River after Midnight

Whisky Straight Up

The cabbie looked at him in the mirror. “That’s what you lot don’t understand,” he started, “you go south of the river after midnight and it blows your hours the rest of the week. People never learn.”

He watched the cabbie shake his head.

“Job’s hard enough anyway. It’s the government, see? Don’t look after the working man anymore. This country, eh?”

Their eyes met again.

He wanted to disagree but couldn’t speak. The gag was far too tight. All he could do, trussed up on the floor, was blink. Blink and hope to hell this wasn’t his last ride.

About the author

Charlie Wade is forty years old and lives in on the edge of the Peak District in Derbyshire. He's written three books and many of his short stories can be found online. His latest novel, Seven Daze, was published by Caffeine Nights on 27th May 2013. You can find him online at

http://batteriesarentincluded.blogspot.co.uk/

100 Worder Shake Your Booty

100 Worder

Mike Olley

Shake Your Booty

Isotonic Rum

Rosie had never felt more stupid in her life but had decided to front it out. Stuck flat on her back for the next half hour with everyone staring at her. So what if stripy tops weren't in? She could take the other girls' sniggers. And what was so wrong with the gold earring she was sporting? She'd seen worse. The eye patch was an embarrassment but could pass as a legitimate ailment. The five o'clock shadow was more difficult to explain; the parrot and fake wooden-leg nigh on impossible. Rosie wished she'd read the invite to Pilates class properly.

About the author

Mike Olley made pop videos but gave it all up to live next to a Spanish castle, where he grew cactuses, practised carpentry and wrote strange funny stories. Unable to take the heat any longer, he returned to England with his sense of humour and a half-baked novel. His first collection of short stories is Better.

If you want to send us a story in exactly 100 words check out the 100-Word Challenge here: LINK

100 Worder High Steaks

100 Worder

Angela Haffenden

High Steaks

A glass of Chianti – served chilled

My husband chews the steak, an ecstatic expression on his face.

            ‘You should cook meat more often.’

            I nod at him, glad he doesn’t realise he’s eating what is his last meal.

I slice my char grilled vegetables. I savour every mouthful.

            ‘I’m glad you’re enjoying it,’ I say, taking a generous swill of wine with my next bite.

Hovering above myself, I watch a macabre scene play out below me. My husband, slumped in the chair, head lolling, his face purple from the poison I concealed in his meal.

            Me, I’m choking on a huge lump of red pepper.

About the author

Angela Haffenden is a thirty-seven- year old mother of four children. She is also responsible for a husband, a dog and an ageing father. She writes mainly to stay sane. She lives by the sea and writes in a cabin in the garden.

If you want to send us a story in exactly 100 words check out the 100-Word Challenge here: LINK

100 Worder Accident

100 Worder

Roger Noons

Accident

A cup of strong tea

When Mervyn Davies fell down stairs and broke his neck, his son Philip was not saddened. Many a night he had been awakened by banging on the partition wall between his bedroom and that of his sister. Megan was two years older than Phil; well developed for her fourteen years. He would hear their father’s cough as he closed the door, followed by the creak of the floorboards. Pressing his ear against the anaglypta, he would listen to Megan’s sobs. It was early on a January morning, when Phil leapt from his doorway, startling his father who lost his balance.

About the author

Roger is a regular contributor to the CaféLit site and a couple of his stories have been selected for the Best of CaféLit 2012.

If you want to send us a story in exactly 100 words check out the 100-Word Challenge here: LINK

100 Worder Gone

100 Worder

Lindsay Bamfield

Gone

Bitter lemon

There she is dressed in dramatic black, weeping prettily, revelling in the fuss from the mourners. She is playing to perfection the role of widow. Has she forgotten that she is not his widow? I am. Yet I’m an embarrassment to those who remember that he never married her in the twenty years they were together. Twice the time he was with me. I doubt she loved him twice as much. I loved him enough to let him go when I was no longer wanted but she clung on to him like choking ivy so his only escape was suicide.

About the author

Lindsay Bamfield is a co-founder of Greenacre Writers in Finchley, North London. She has had several short stories and flash fiction pieces published in anthologies and online and is editing her first novel and working on her second.

If you want to send us a story in exactly 100 words check out the 100-Word Challenge here: LINK