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Latest Stories

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…
February 29, 2024
Fantasy Stories Marvel Chukwudi Pephel

Tragopolis

In the heart of a vast and mysterious forest lay a city like no other – Tragopolis. It was a fablesque city hidden from the prying eyes of the outside world. It was a place where secrets bloomed as bountifully as the surrounding flora. It was a city where…
February 15, 2024
Science Fiction Stories Jasnoor

Ethan Sheldon's Death

<< Ethan Sheldon’s [Deceased] Brain Autopsy >> Damn, this one's going to be a long one—an all-nighter mopping the floors in this creepy ass place. There is no music or sound except the splashing noise of cleaning fluid. I'm in a hallway; there's nothing to…

I know he’s here somewhere on what I call my Restitution List. E, F, ah here we go the G’s. Glockner, Gobomo, Gomez, Greengrass. Gerald Greengrass. Present wrapped all ready for transit. Special delivery. Job almost done.

            Maybe I should explain what my Restitution List actually is for those of you less informed about the contractual obligations of my chosen profession. In some years it’s kind of difficult to make a delivery to every boy and girl. Its okay for Postman bloody Pat but this is the real cut and thrust world of geographical upheavals’, gross human ineptitude and social-political conflicts. In other words floods, famine and war.

            And so it was the case with little Gerald Greengrass. Although he’s probably not so little anymore. Actually he may not have much use for what I have in the back of my sleigh, but hey, a contract is a contract for all that. And I don’t want to face the wrath of HR again, not after that rather unfortunate episode in Russia a few years ago. Well our Logistics department never informed me that the town of Chernobyl had been abandoned. There was I surrounded by empty tower blocks and abandoned cars for all the world feeling like a complete twit. And they usually look after me down in that part of the world, plenty of homemade vodka to keep the chill out. Poor people. Poor children. Many of them I shan’t be visiting again. Makes you think doesn’t it.

            Now where was I? Ah yes, Greengrass, Gerald. That wasn’t so much of a disaster, in the Chernobyl sense, more a matter of mistiming, in the Luftwaffe sense. I turned up at number twenty six Jubilee Terrace to find that the recipient had been evacuated a few weeks beforehand to some farm in South Wales, name almost unpronounceable. In fact Master Greengrass was one of hundreds who went without a special present that Christmas of 1940. Yes they all ended up on the Restitution List.

            Right, its time I was off for I don’t want to be late or run over schedule. The Chief Elf and his committee have come up with a Working Time Directive for me to adhere to. Seems as I’m getting older my performance is beginning to slip. Peaks and troughs, bell curves and convex functions, it’s all there on a large graph on his office wall. I wonder what HR thinks of it all. Must have a word on the quiet when I get back. Sort things out.

 

*

 

Gerald Greengrass was eighty six years old. Gerald Greengrass was in Saint Clare Hospice. Gerald Greengrass was dying.

            “Dad, Jackie and the kids are driving down from Newcastle today so you’ll have a house full tomorrow,” his youngest daughter Amy told him.

            Gerald coughed and adjusted the pump that was feeding him regular doses of morphine. “Will we all fit in here?” he asked and took a look around his small private room where he had spent the last fortnight, but wouldn’t see another.

            “We’ll make do, don’t worry. And Nurse Jackson told me that we can all move into the dayroom for our lunch if you feel up to it.”

            Her dad shifted his emaciated frame on the wheelchair and reached for her hand. ‘I’m not up to eating much,’ he wheezed and raised a smile. “Kind of lost my appetite, I don’t know why,” he joked.

            Amy squeezed his parchment thin fingers. ‘I know dad. But your grandchildren are excited about seeing you.’

            “Do they know?” he asked. “About . . . well my condition.”

            She closed her eyes and forced back tears. “Kirstie and Tom understand, mind you they are teenagers. Little James just thinks you have a broken leg or have had your appendix out. He wants to bring you a bunch of grapes.”

            A spasm of pain stiffened Gerald’s body. He turned the dial on his pump. “Goodness me but I’ve been so lucky in life,” he uttered hoarsely.

            Amy stood up and went to fetch a glass of water. “Phew it’s warm in here,” she exclaimed in a bid to change the subject.

            “Your mother and I never had a cross word in fifty years,” Gerald went on. “Half a bloody century. She’d be so proud of you all if she was still around.”

            “Have a sip of this drink and stop rabbiting.”

            He took a couple of tentative mouthfuls. He had to admit that his tongue felt like sandpaper and there was that corrosive taste which never seemed to leave him.

            “Right, I will love you and leave you dad. If you need anything just ring the bell.” She bent to give him a kiss on one sunken cheek. “We’ll all be here by nine thirty tomorrow morning.”

            She picked up her bag and made slowly for the door.

            “Just one thing Amy,” she heard him say.

            She turned.

            “Merry Christmas,” he whispered.

 

*

 

“How did you get in?” Gerald asked the large chap standing at the foot of his bed.

            The visitor shrugged. “Pretty nurse outside. I have a way with the ladies you see. Have them eating out of my hand sometimes.”

            Gerald sat up a little straighter and coughed. “I’m impressed.”

            The man reached for a chair and sat himself down, giving a weary sigh as he did so.

            “You don’t look too well,” he said with genuine concern in his voice.

            “Your powers of observation do you justice.”

            The unexpected visitor tugged at his beard. “How long?”

            Gerald looked at the bedside clock. Bloody hell, one o’clock in the morning.

            “How long is a very, very short piece of string?” he replied.

            “I’m sorry. Logistics should have explained,” and shrugged. “Not that it would have made much difference because if you’re on the Restitution List my delivery schedule has to be strictly adhered to.”

            The patient of this outstanding hospice coughed and watched the steady drip of morphine enter his system. “Amazon I take it.”

            The other man stood up and chuckled. He then ran both hands down his clothing almost proudly.

            Gerald massaged his shrunken features. “Your costume’s not quite as red as I always imagined.”

            The other walked over to the mirror above the sink. “It’s not a costume it’s a suit,” he explained rather tersely. “And this year I thought I might go for something a little less bright.” He turned and said to Gerald. “Cranberry Blush they call it,” and smoothed down his bulging jacket. “And all that white fur trimming was so merchandising a la Coca-Cola.”

            The dying man wanted to laugh at the absurdity of this situation but was still in a state of subdued shock. Perhaps it was the morphine making him hallucinate. Or he was still fast asleep and simply dreaming.

            And then the visitor resumed his place on the chair and reached for Gerald’s hand.

            “Have you prepared yourself?” he asked.

            The other slowly nodded. “My affairs are in order and I have had weeks to come to terms with the inevitable”

            “But you’re scared.”

            “Shitless.”

            The man with the white bushy beard and a merry twinkle in his eye squeezed the others hand and held his gaze. “It’ll be okay. Believe me everything will be explained very soon.”

            Gerald’s chest wheezed as he tried to find the correct words. “Are you Him?”

            He smiled fondly. “HR? Oh no I couldn’t possibly impersonate Him.”

            “HR?”

            “His Righteousness,” he whispered and raised one index finger towards the ceiling. “Well that’s what I call Him.”

            “I don’t understand,” Gerald said and laid his head back onto the pillow.

            “Well He’s always right about everything. It’s a kind of joke between us. I mean the two of us go way back. And He appreciates a little banter, don’t forget that Gerald Greengrass when your time comes.”

            The other closed his eyes, he was slowly drifting off to sleep.

            The big man with the florid complexion got to his feet. “Nearly forgot, I have a little something for you,” and handed over a small Christmas present all wrapped in gold wrapping paper and a big gold ribbon.

            Gerald had fallen asleep, his weak, emaciated body slowly moving in time to his laboured breathing.

            Outside it was beginning to snow, huge white flakes drifting earthward, stark against the frosty night sky.

            Very quietly the man in the Cranberry Blush suit left his gift under the small artificial tree near the large window, turning to look at the recipient with a serene expression of satisfaction across his face. Job done. Another name delivered to on his lengthy Restitution List.

            He passed the pretty nurse sitting in her office and gave her a huge friendly smile before opening the front door and moving towards his mode of transportation standing in the parking lot, all stamping of hooves and tinkling of tiny bells.

 

***

 

Alan Peat

 

           

           

           

           

 

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