Tag Archives: he

The Blag

Posted on by under 2025, Sept 2025 - The Easy Way Out

Brandon never wanted to be there, but Josh assured him the old man was loaded. The moment the lock clicked open, his eyes narrowed and he whispered, “This is a mistake.”

Josh shushed him with a grin. “Bloody virgin.”

He had experience, but it was served with a level of incompetence that made barristers choke. The large thumb marked “Time served at HM Pleasure” on the scales of his chaotic life bore solid testimony to that.

“Piece of cake. Easy compared to a real blag,” he concluded.

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Love Amongst Monsters

Posted on by under 2025, Sept 2025 - The Easy Way Out

Mr Sailsbury was a man burdened by very little. Marriage arranged by parents, children raised by governesses, and his job was more or less inherited with his boss making no demands.

His wife likewise asked for very little, sighing as she heard of another late evening at the office with her typical reply of: “That’s alright dear” which was as passionate as their marriage got.

Mr Sailsbury, however felt that a man such as himself should have a mistress. A wife you did your duty towards; a mistress was for fun.

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When the phone rang

Posted on by under 2025, Sept 2025 - The Easy Way Out

Colin ‘Corky’ Yates lived alone; alone enough for a ten-year-old boy. Since his mother’s death two years earlier, dinner was prepared by the housekeeper, and he spent his evenings doing homework, listening to the radio, and waiting for his father.

Corky didn’t mind. He just missed his mum.

One evening, while doing his homework with the radio on, he paused as the announcer signed off, “If you have a problem, get in touch with Doctor Parkham, on …”

He jotted the number down.

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Unpersuaded

Posted on by under 2025, August 2025 - Persuasion

First year of college I had to endure Jerry Burns. He was your standard, entitled nice guy, forever moaning over his virginity and what an injustice it was that those heartless bitches wouldn’t date him.

I was unpersuaded to be his girlfriend, probably because in addition to being entitled and brimming with rage, he was also criminally boring; his only topic was himself.

Second year, I mercifully didn’t share a house with him, although he kept sending me drunken texts on how much he missed me, how hanging out with me was the best time of his life and what a stone-cold whore I was for ignoring him.

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Deliverance

Posted on by under 2025, August 2025 - Persuasion

Mick sat in his land-train on an escarpment overlooking the crossing. Below, in the valley, the bots paraded alongside the slowly shuffling line of indentured labourers, their threatening gestures accompanying each faltering step. He counted five bots, one for every twenty humans.

“It’s all about ratios,” he muttered, pulling his scarf up to his nose. That’s how corporations preferred it. Bots were costly; humans were cheap. But everything had a cost. He’d rescued slaves before… for a price.

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The Surgery of Mirrors

Posted on by under 2025, July 2025 - The Mirror

Dr Ima Kwak hesitated. The oblique angle of the antique mirror captured him seated in his wood-panelled office; the leather olive-green captain’s chair highlighted his status. He caught himself glancing and sighed. That advert had sounded promising.

“Immersive Scenarios ensure every trainee surgeon is practice-ready for ONLY a fraction of your traditional cost.”

Still he held back from clicking the know-more link. The responsibilities of Regional Post-Graduate Dean in Medical Education had over the 26 years seeped, morphed and varicosed as if from an untreatable haemophiliac. It now included fiscal responsibility and he was at heart a clinician not an accountant.

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Do Not Look Into … The Mirror

Posted on by under 2025, July 2025 - The Mirror

The man studied the screen to watch and absorb all of the horrors unfold right in front of his eyes.

To the left he sees a woman silently screaming at the top of her lungs, a hammer enters into the shot. With one felled swoop the hammer strikes into the womans left temple, with a violent shuddering her expression is rendered lifeless and almost blank. The wall beside her and even the screen the man is viewing are stained with fresh blood splatter. The man staggers backward too disgusted to keep his eyes open yet so morbidly intrigued he peeks. Then the nausea hits him and he viscously wretches as the slight contents of his stomach exit his mouth. Feeling a slight wave of physical relief the man lays his head down on

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Staves

Posted on by under 2025, July 2025 - The Mirror

A 92-year-old woman in Maespoeth has been found dead. Police have arrested a man, 64. They said the woman and man were known to each other and have described it as a ‘very sad case’. Valleys Radio news website.

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Perkins looks at himself in the dresser mirror. The lines on his forehead remind him of the staves on a sheet of music. He’s a semi-professional bass player, makes a bit of living from it. Those days are over now. He pulls out his mobile and taps 999.

Latterly it’s been tough. The privatised caring company, profit before people, make their first visit at eleven in the morning. No good at all that. So he’s been getting her up, showering her, changing her himself. He sort of switches off when he does it, same as when you accompany an uninspiring melody. He just makes out he is himself a paid carer, dealing with somebody else’s mother, not thinking it odd that he’s washing the naked, broken body of an elderly female. Switched off yet kind, that’s the way he does it.

‘Which service?’ the voice on his phone says.

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Two Thousand Weekends – a reflection on immorality

Posted on by under 2025, July 2025 - The Mirror

Phil didn’t mean to become a murderer. Not at first.

It all happened because he read on social media that humans, on average, live about 4500 weeks.

Being a number geek, Phil calculated that the first 900 weeks are spent learning how to walk, talk, pass exams, and unclip bra straps. The last 1500 comprise an increasingly strident existential shriek translating into “How the fuck did that happen?”

Of the remainder, about 100 is spent in utter confusion, comatose, or madness, leaving 2000 weeks, or more to the point, weekends, of life to live as you want.

In short, life comes down to eleven years of weekend fun sandwiched between unremitting drudgery. For most people, anyway.

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BILLY DON’T BE A HERO

Posted on by under 2025, July 2025 - The Mirror

Sitting half way up the Witches Hat, Billy Thomas was trying to comfort the young couple. They had tried to climb down the Hat, but had become stuck after a slip on the shale had left the young lady with a badly gashed leg.

Billy and his friends were on their Boxing Day trek and had been walking along gossamer trails, the hoar frost thick on the ground. A weak sun hung sulkily in the sky.  He was always thankful  to escape the aftermath of family Christmas Day.

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The Chancellor’s Sacrifice

Posted on by under 2025, June 2025 - Sacrifice

They say the Chancellor made the sacrifice no one else dared make, for many of the emperor’s subjects had longed to end their master’s life but to do that deed would be to forfeit their own.

The emperor was descended, or so it was claimed, from almighty Jupiter himself and thus his word was law. If he demanded for you to leap into the sea you would do so. If he desired to bed your wife or daughter, you’d smile and stand aside.

When the emperor spent the summer solstice by the mediterranean sea, a local fisherman collected a huge haul of fish and neglected to share this bounty with his lord. The emperor upon learning of this, had the fish rubbed against the man’s body until he bled to death.

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WHAT IF?

Posted on by under 2025, June 2025 - Sacrifice

Opening the curtains Anna looked out on a kaleidoscope of colour: the perfect day, the birds awakening, a flurry of sleepy tweets, trees rustling .

Climbing back into bed she sighed in relief. Six in the morning and since her mother’s death there was no hurry now to start her day. Turning on her clock-radio a distant memory wrapped around her, a favourite song of her and Joe. She cried, recalling all the hurt of her choices.

In Sydney, Australia Joe Harvey sat looking through the family album. Jan, his wife, had passed away some time ago. Living on his own was hard, he missed the companionship. Out of nowhere a shaft of misery drove deep into him. A name popped into his mind, consoling, one that he had buried long ago.

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Family Sacrifices

Posted on by under 2025, June 2025 - Sacrifice

My stepfather, Sid, often talked about his sacrifices. He said it was about the three of us, carefully including Myles. But it wasn’t. It was about Eleanor and me. We were his entry passes to our mother’s orbit. She came as a package: long legs, blonde hair, and two kids, which was ideal for an insurance salesman. It gave him a ready-made family, including a trophy wife and two kids—the perfect image. But he resented us.

We rented a two-bedroom terrace, where the mice skittered across the pans when someone turned on the kitchen light, and a broken window remained unaddressed for the entire time we lived there. Five doors down was a house where men visited at irregular hours. I had an idea of what went on behind those shuttered windows, and I’m pretty sure Sid did too.

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Christmas Party for One

Posted on by under 2025, May 2025 - The Party

            Owen walked the dog down the lane and turned towards the Norman castle. It was very quiet there, befitting Christmas eve. The Teifi gorge around two sides of the ruin was invisible, making its threat of a blind descent into the underworld stronger than ever. The dog was nervous. Usually it loved the lane, its smells. In pitch black Owen was about to turn back when, atop one of the castle’s walls, he saw a figure, like a lonely guard defending his prince’s grounds centuries after his master’s death. He looked again and the solitary warrior had vanished. He and the dog both slunk home with their tails between their legs, unsettled.

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Carol and the Case of the Suspicious Neighbours

Posted on by under 2025, May 2025 - The Party

“We’ve been infiltrated,” said Carol, scanning the assembled members of the W.I. “I saw our cake recipe on Val Clark’s shopping list in Tesco this morning.”

“But… it’s only a Victoria Sponge!” said Julie.

Carol flung her arms in the air. “How many times do I have to say it? Use the code name!”

It was fair to say that former Superintendent Carol was finding retirement a struggle. It had only been six weeks but already she was exasperated.

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Which Way?

Posted on by under 2025, May 2025 - The Party

Walking out of the town hall Aldo turned to me: ”Nan, isn’t Alan Parson wonderful. He can get this country back to the way it should be.”

Looking at him, I sighed. He had the look of the converted, his eyes shining at the thought of a wealthy life for all, poor boy. I should really keep my thoughts to myself but that man was dangerous, all his talk fantasy to lure the youngsters in. 

”My Mam told me about a guy who broadcast during the war; his name was Lord Jaw Jaw . The broadcasts sound very similar to that man, only he was trying to get us to surrender promising he would make us all a wonderful life under Titler. ”

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That Blinking List 

Posted on by under 2025, April 2025 - The List

As Howard opened the washing machine and pulled out his clothes, his heart sank; everything was blue. His favourite white shirt was now tie-dyed, his jumper had shrunk small enough to fit Albie, his grandson.

Margy had only been gone three days and he was failing miserably. He really had tried to follow her list. Some of the things seemed a bit extreme like polishing all the surfaces every day. Why when there was only him there?

Margy, at sixty eight, had got herself a last minute free holiday with Faye, whose husband had a chest infection. It was Margy’s first holiday without him.

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No-Fly List

Posted on by under 2025, April 2025 - The List

NY December 2026.

There is an awkward moment on my arrival when an ICE agent insists on me unpacking my case. He tells me there is similar name to mine on their no-fly list.

I realise I can’t remember my PIN, so I put my hand in my suit pocket to get my phone, and he reaches for his sidearm.

“Phone,” I say, a weak grin on my face, withdrawing it slowly with two fingers. I can smell the heat of my sweat rising and try to suppress a tremble in my hand, but only succeed in dropping the phone.

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Portrait of a Man on Fire

Posted on by under 2025, March 2025 - Heat

On the 29th of May, I was sent off to Joseph Dahl’s townhouse. He was often seen strolling around Caden Street or by the lake in Muriel Park, wishing everyone a good hullo, usually while dressed in a grey suit tailored from JR Parking’s and wearing a straw hat. A habit which made him the menace of a few penny counters and good Samaritans, but the local policemen regarded him as more an itch than any serious threat.

“Some people,” he said as he gripped my hand in his leathery paw, “can’t understand the spiritual life, they’ll chant their vows come Sunday but rarely put those promises into practice.”

“How about it?” asked his not wife, not girlfriend, Susannah, who at that moment lazed upon the sofa. “Do you swear by Christ or by Odin?”

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