November 2015 – inside out – The Team Leader by Simon Evans

The Team Leader

by Simon Evans

Twas the night before Christmas and I was just finishing stacking the dishwasher. My daughter entered the kitchen holding a glass of wine and placed her free hand on my shoulder.

“Come on Dad, the kids are waiting. It’s story time.”

“Well I shouldn’t keep them waiting then!”

I grinned from ear to ear and walked through to the living room. My grandchildren were sat, all three of them, beaming in front of the Christmas tree. Continue reading


November 2015 – inside out – The Eyes of Mork Tyran by Martin Bolton

The Eyes of Mork Tyran

by Martin Bolton

The prisoner stirred as an icy gust of wind caressed him, finding its way through his tattered rags and and probing at his thinly covered bones. The furs that hung in the cavern entrance were thrust aside. He counted the foot steps and could tell that a single man had entered.

A pregnant pause reigned as the heat from the cavern’s lava pit chased away the insurgent chill. The hiss of the newcomer’s sword sliding from its scabbard broke the silence. This was followed by a metallic clink as the warrior placed the sword’s tip on the stone floor.

“Who appears before the twin druids?” Continue reading

October 2015 – new beginning – Bread on the Water by John Pilling

Bread on the Water

By John Pilling

Cast your bread upon the waters

For you will find it after many days”

Ecclesiastes 11.

Conscious of a gentle nudge and a murmured “voting soon old boy,” Lord Shaw of Bryntiron opened his eyes and straightened up in his seat in the House of Lords. Smiling his thanks at the octogenarian hereditary peer sitting next to him he said.

“I was far away then…far away and long ago, when it all began.”

“Oh yes, I know that place” his neighbour said “I go there quite often myself, much nicer than nowadays.” Continue reading

October 2015 – new beginning – Insufficient Evidence by Nick Cracknell

Insufficient Evidence

By Nick Cracknell

It was just another Friday night at The Loft in Brooklyn when Jimmy told me about the letter. As usual we’d had a couple beers after our shift and Jimmy was down four one on the pool table. He was lining up for a shot at the 8-ball when he mentioned it.

“You know, I got this weird letter through a couple days ago. Some sort of scam. I think they’re after money but I can’t figure it out.”

I nodded sagely. “My kid got this email. Get this, some Nigerian claimed he’d found a long lost uncle who’d left everything to Tommy in his will, and needed his account number to deposit $4.8 million.” I chuckled and swigged my beer. “The shit they pull, huh?” Continue reading

October 2015 – new beginning – Ken Lee by Simon Evans

Ken Lee

by Simon Evans

Ken Lee sat in his favourite armchair; it was Christmas Day so he wore a purple paper crown on his old, grey head. At his feet sat his three daughters – Glenda, Rita and his youngest, prettiest daughter, Carol.

“Right you lot, I’m off to bed soon as I’m quite pissed. Whoever gives the best speech about how great I am and how much you love me will be given the last present – the doll’s house made of whale bone.” Continue reading

September 2015 – close shave – Razor’s Edge by John Pilling

Razor’s Edge

by John Pilling

Inspector Hayes of the Police public liaison branch replaced the telephone receiver with and blew out his cheeks with a sigh of relief, leaning back in his chair he stretched and yawned mightily.

“Thank the Lord for a good boss” he said “he’s going to take the press conference this morning, in the meantime you and I can get off home…with his thanks. Ye Gods what a night, spare me from another like that.” Sergeant Jim Ames seated across the desk across the desk grimaced.

“It’s not over yet Sir, not by a long chalk, when the morning papers come out the press will have a field day.” Continue reading

September 2015 – close shave – The Stare by James Williams

The Stare

by James Williams

It was Friday the third of June, and the hottest day of the year so far. Having spent a long work training day in London, catching my train back to Cambridge had been a close shave and I found myself sitting cross legged and uncomfortably hot on the floor of a vestibule between two coaches of the train. The windows in the doors were pushed all the way down, and the hot sticky air of outer North East London billowed in. The throb of the train’s hot diesel engine was reflected back into the windows in varying volumes and tones, as an endless grey display of shabby buildings and overhead cables raced past the window against the hazy summer sky. Continue reading