Short Stories to Entertain

“So, you’re telling me the fella just fell over in the street. Just like that. No push. No shove. He just simply landed on his face.” This was the policeman talking standing next to the open door of his patrol car. The open door that hung over the pavement. That he was leaning on while he talked to the man.

What would the world have done without cherries? That first bite. That immediate hint of things to come. That’s the thing, isn’t it, the exhilaration of the first bite of anything. The way the mind unscrambles, races to understand what is happening. The outpouring of emotion or the realisation that things just might be about to change. But that bite of the cherry goes hand in hand with taking the plunge. It’s so hard to achieve the first without embracing the second.    Take starting a relationship. Someone attracts you. What’s the immediate question? Are they attracted to you? To find out you buy a carton of cherries, pick one, take a bite, take the plunge and hope for the best. It’s universal. Everyone gets one chance, one bite. Sure, you can have a second nibble at the same fruit but… failure the first time doesn’t make the second chance any easier. In short, if a cherry appears on your radar, sharpen your teeth, open wide and take as big a bite as possible then d...

      Donald Dunkerson, known within his tight circle as The Grand Old Master, resembled how you might imagine Doctor Foster might look, perhaps after the huge bunch of miles and many days or even weeks it took him to finally achieve one of the most rain drenched and futile journeys of all time. And incidentally Donald lived in Gloucester and is, or at least had been, a doctor which eminently qualified him to recognise that being drenched at one in the morning could adversely affect someone approaching their ninetieth birthday. It is easy to assume that his saturated condition was du e to some fairly tedious and persistent rainfall but that is not the case - the three firemen who extracted him from the well can attest to that.  

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    It is quite a long walk to Wood Green Tube Station from where Larry lives but that is what people who live in London do , isn’t it? they walk, up to a point, then they get a cab or a bus or a Boris Bike. For Larry , the thirty minutes did not seem too bad today mainly because it was dry. When it was wet the walk could be purgatory even with an umbrella. The driving rain, if it is driving, soaks his trousers and the drips from the umbrella get down his neck as he moves it to avoid poking people if the street is busy. But it is all worth the effort if you are going on a first date and are excited, nervous even.

The only reason I found out we were all going to die was because I fell in love pretty much as soon as I saw the mid-length bright red skirt and long blonde hair swirl across the restaurant. Then meander lithely around picking up cartons, bags and boxes and spray the red surfaces of the chrome tables. Within moments the place was pristine and ready for the next influx of diners who, as I watched, were already pouring through the doors to queue at the ordering screens and flick through menu options.   The place displayed an ambience of desirability. The lighting exactly right. Long tubes strategically placed within the high ceilings gave perfect illumination during long dark winter evenings. Big windows but positioned so there was no blinding light during hot summer days. Plenty of tables but spaced generously giving a sense of openness. Background music played but it was what I would describe as happy sounds, almost beguiling. 

  LIQUORICE STREET - A thrilling crime drama of theft, kidnap and murder is published. Buy -  https://www.amazon.co.uk/ Old Man is a barber but he has a secret with a dubious and very lucrative sideline. His past, though, is about to catch up with him. His son, Crispin, knows all about crime. It’s what he does. One problem: he’s about to get mixed up in murders and kidnapping not of his making. A body is found washed up on the river bank. DI Dave Simmons investigates and discovers a trail of events and murders that he struggles to connect. Crime boss Ron Draper is on the hunt for something - and those involved with it - and isn’t fussy how he achieves his goals. The results give Dave plenty to look at but nothing much to discover. Dave has history with both Old Man and Crispy, which adds to the difficulty of an already complicated case. How do a watch collector, a pair of twins and a thrill seeking city banker fit into the scenario? Struggling to make any progress Dave has to ...

  Stanley is standing next to the horse holding the reins in his right hand with all the horse’s luggage and feed piled nearby. His wife Clare is standing next to him although by no means still as she is clearly agitated. Mr Wagstaff’s brother is leaving, travelling slowly down the road in his four by four pulling his old, dilapidated horse box, his right arm extended out of the window attempting a goodbye gesture that lacks sincerity. Clare is wearing a dubious expression, the sort full of a thousand apposite questions which she is striving to arrange in a coherent order before enunciating the most important. She opened her mouth intending to speak, a frozen moment when just her jaw moved. She then turned and moved towards the open front door, slowly at first and then with increasing velocity until inside. Then she slammed the door shut. Not much had been said except, “ W hat’s that?” to which Stanley had replied, “I think it’s a horse, at least that’s how it was given to me. A...

My dad was a fella with an Einstein brain from a not so well-off family. The way his brain worked was a wonder. It took him a while to gather his thoughts which kind of suggested he was indecisive which was not the case. When it came to it, he made a choice and stuck right on with it. At fourteen he left school and worked as an apprentice bookbinder of all things. At fifteen he had enough to pay for night school. Electronics was the thing he thought. At sixteen his brother joined him. At eighteen they both qualified. At nineteen in 1940 he was in the RAF mending radios on bombers. His brother mended radios in tanks in the desert and Italy. In 1946 he got married on a whim to a nurse who nursed him. Nothing so romantic as a war wound. An in-growing toena il. In 1950 he was developing radar and early computers. His brother fixed TVs in South Africa after emigrating.     What is all this about you might ask. A life history. In a way for sure but mostly it is about taking the p...

  Raphael Ravenscroft suddenly fires up and fills the speakers of the bedside digital clock. That riff. And what a riff. That infectious sound, a creation of pure genius by the coming together of one of the greatest saxophone players of the modern age and the burgeoning talent of ex busker and Stealers Wheel frontman Gerry Rafferty. Eight in the morning and time to get up. Tommy Tucker, as is his usual practice, wakes but does not turn off the alarm. He always, most definitely always , listens to the entire track. Baker Street containing the best example of passionate saxophone playing. Ever.