Short Stories
The Bahrain Writers’ Circle holds monthly challenges to write a short story. The stories have to follow the rules set out in the challenge, which may be to use a certain word or phrase, or written about a certain subject. These are sent anonymously to an author, usually outside Bahrain, to be critiqued. This feedback is invaluable for any author as it allows you to know what is working and what isn’t. I don’t take part in these challenges every month, especially when I am working on a novel, but they are fun when I do take part.
ooOoo
Hell Hath No Fury Like A Honey Badger Scorned
Dr Laura Ellison’s husband was a lucky man.
Laura was not only a talented surgeon but gorgeous with it too. Her long black hair, dark brown eyes, high cheek bones, olive skin and model-like figure turned heads wherever she went. Martin had no idea what she saw in him. She was an eminent surgeon; he was your average blue collar construction site worker. The pay he brought home each month wouldn’t cover the mortgage on the dog kennel of their Portland Heights home.
They met by accident – literally. She ran into the back of his car at a stop sign. He had never seen anyone so beautiful, and with the testosterone fuelled optimism of youth he asked her out. To his surprise she agreed, and the rest, as they say, is history. …read more
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I spy with my little eye, something beginning with D
“Dragons’ eggs?”
“Yes, in a cave.”
“There’s no such things as dragons,” Danny said.
“Is too, and I found their eggs – in the sand.”
“How big are they then?”
“Not that big, but I know they’re dragons’ eggs, ‘cos, – ‘cos they’re all knobbly.” Brian was confused. He thought Danny would be excited by his news.
“They’re probably seagull eggs.”
Sometimes, Danny didn’t know why he bothered with Brian. He was only eight, Danny was ten and so much wiser, almost grown up, or so he thought.
“Bet you’ve not even found a cave.”
“Did so too. At the far end of the beach.” …read more
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The Room
How strange, I’ve never noticed that before. What on earth would cause that?
As a shaft of sunlight illuminates the tiny dust particles tripping off the end of my brush, each minute speck, a flickering star shining in its own tiny universe, is being drawn inexorably towards a metaphorical black hole at the base of the wall, a slow drift at first before accelerating to be devoured by the insatiable darkness. Perhaps not metaphorical, who knows how black holes work?
Professor Stephen Hawking does of course, maybe he could help out, but who am I trying to kid? Even his simplest of terms are often beyond me. The world and the universe happen, I don’t need any more of an explanation. In any case, I don’t move in those circles, not yet.
The chances of you catching me cleaning and having the sun shine on the same day are quite remote. This part of Scotland isn’t known for bright blue skies; combined with a total lack of interest in the more domestic chores and winning the lottery becomes a more likely prospect. That reminds me, it’s a rollover tomorrow: I better get a ticket. …read more