Short Stories to Entertain

  “Hi there matey, you new here?”   “Yup, arrived yesterday. See that big lump of mountain over there, somewhere on it there’s a rope that’s snapped. That’s mine. The ends are probably all frayed and flapping in the wind. I went down two hundred metres and landed on my head on an ice-covered rock where all that lovely soft snow had blown off. Each side there was a deep snow hole. It probably would have made no difference though. Name’s Ernie, Ernest Edwards, from Newcastle.”  

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About ten seconds, that’s roughly how long it takes to hit the ground from one thousand feet. Anyway, that’s what I told the man, the one hanging out from the wrong side of the rail on The Royal Gorge Bridge with a look of death in his eyes. Flashing and flicking like they were. Staring at the sparkling water below. Ten seconds, one thousand feet. What I didn’t say was I’d rounded it up. The bridge was actually fifty feet short of the thousand. If he counted he would get to nine point nine-five then he’d unexpectedly stop. I thought that would save him some worry.   I came across him while I was out strolling, making the most of the bright sunny day. I got to a few feet from him and as I didn’t want to spook him, casually said, “Hey matey, what’s the story?”   It turned out to be the same old story. Well, as it happens, two stories, “I’m broke and she’s gone,” he mumbled then snatched a glance my way then back to the water. No tears, they never have tears, just the lo...

George sat at his kitchen table sipping black coffee looking through the window towards the dusty play area in front of the road. Smiling was what he should be doing but he had a distressing suspicion preventing the smile from getting any purchase. The dark-skinned girl sitting on his fence, on her own, took no part. He could see she was just sitting silently suffering. He thought about it but actually knew it was futile to intervene so stood, put the cup in the sink, took one last look then wandered to his study to continue writing what would be his greatest work, unaware that without even the need to intercede, he was in fact, the catalyst to the girl’s salvation.     The fence swayed gently in time with Lucy, rocking back and forth as she sat on the low post joining two sets of two runners, just watching. The huge guard dog behind her growled and snarled, spluttered and coughed at the same time. A long chain clipped to its choke-chain collar tightened as he tugged and ...

  Responding to requests for a TEASER this is chapter 1 of LAUNDRY WARS IN DESENZANO. The book will be available EARLY IN THE NEW YEAR. Details will be posted. It was ten-fifty Monday morning, at least that’s what Emily Ellis’s watch told her as she curled back the cuff of her cream blouse. The six-forty-three express from Desenzano rattled and rocked through a multitude of point changes as it passed endless rows of houses and warehouses finally approaching Roma Termini platform twenty-one. The express was twenty-five minutes late, but of course that didn't matter, the important thing was that she had escaped, so far without any consequences, other than the fact that most of her possessions were still enjoying the view across Lake Garda. She snatched a glance at the sour-face sitting next to her. Emily was not normally a spiteful person but that bitch; she was sure her ankle would suffer for days.