The Thought Process of a Definition by C.S. Bailey
I can clearly see the sadness in her stunning hazel eyes. The lack of dignity, as she elegantly parades around naked in front of me. My emotional state is at the polar opposite of where it should be. My energy should be shy rocketing. My blood should be shooting through my veins but it isn’t.
My frustratingly busy thought process will not allow me to concentrate of the positive. It will not let me complete my goal.
For I will only ever see the sadness in her eyes and for this, I will never watch porn in high definition again.
A Drabble Questionnaire by Nav Logan
You’re hanging on a precipice by your fingertips. To make matters worse, you’ve an overwhelming urge to itch your butt. Your phone is going off in your pocket. It must be important as they keep ringing and ringing.
Just then, a brilliant Idea comes into your head for your next novel.
Using the last of your strength, you pull yourself up so that you can rest your chin on the ledge for a few seconds and free one of your hands.
Do you:
• scratch that annoying itch,
• answer the damned phone,
• or scribble down the plot before you forget it?
I Spy... by Bryan Thomas
"I spy with my little eye something beginning with s," said Harry, as he looked out of the window of the train.
"Sheep?" said his sister, Poppy.
"Nope."
"Scenery?" said his mother.
"Nope."
"Squirrel?" said Poppy.
"Nope."
"We give up, don't we, Mum?" said Poppy.
Her mother nodded.
"Shitehawk," said Harry.
"There's no such thing," said his mother.
"Dad says shitehawk all the time," Harry protested.
"Your father says plenty of things but that doesn't mean they're right."
"I saw one hovering at the side of the track," said Harry.
"That was probably a kestrel, now just forget about shitehawks."
CLOWNING AROUND by Rick Haynes
I never remember my dreams but last night that changed.
Lying in a room with a fan overhead told me I was somewhere hot. But the silence confused me; even the spinning fan was noiseless.
The sweat oozing from my open pores stank with fear.
I couldn’t move but I didn’t want to.
For all the time I remained motionless I felt safe.
Looking up at the huge pendulum and the swinging axe I felt the air rush on every pass.
But now awake my nightmare should end.
Yet the axe still swings as the laughing clown pulls the rope.
Friends by D.S. Scott
I lost all my friends. Every last one. It’s all the doctor’s fault too. He prescribed those new medicines and they found out. They say I’m different now, so they all left me. They don’t think I should be on medication like that because I’ve changed. That’s what they said. The doctor says I don’t have a choice though. He says true friends would never leave because of this. I need to find new friends. Real friends. That’s where he’s wrong. Maybe I do need the medicine but he doesn’t understand. The voices were the only friends I’ve ever had.
Death Delivery by J.P. Royan
George saw the figure walking towards the house through the window. Sweaty palmed, he held his revolver as he walked down the stairs.
Knock knock!
Barrel shaking, he aimed the gun at the door. His wife appeared from the lounge to answer it. He froze with fear!
Paying for the pizza George's wife closed the door turning to see her husband on the bottom step, weeping uncontrollably with revolver at his feet. "I'll call Doctor Borovsky!" She blurted, rushing for the phone.
The man walked from the house lifting his wrist to his mouth. "Target acquired. Operation is a go!"
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