General

As Gina raised her arm to move back the velvet drape her bangles cascaded further down her arm than they would have only a week ago. She checked, pale and jaw clenched for the dusk courier. He'd better have the parcel this time of she's have to take action. Papa needed those drugs and her useless brother and mother were't lifting a finger to help her. If anything they were a hinderance. She lowered her arm in an subconscious strike, venting her disgust, sending the bangles crashing down to her hand. Before she could splay her fingers two had hit the terracotta tile. The noise jarred her but was not enough to wake her patient. She picked up the diamond encrusted white gold bangles from the floor and pulled out her phone. It was better not to communicate unless necessary, that's what Papa said, but right now she couldn't help herself.

By Angela Abraham (daisy), December 1, 2014.
General

The walls of our lodge that were so stifling in the summertime seem so insubstantial against the chaotic onslaught of white. I have never seen the fall leaves disappear so fast. In an average year they would be most of the way to being soil before the snow dominates our lives, not this time. The black clouds are as full and dark as they are early. Already the roof is creaking and we'll have to be up there with shovels within the hour if we don't it to collapse. From the porch are icicles longer than Papa's shoes but more beautiful than mama's lead-crystal bowl. Get my gear on the watch the clearing of the drifts, but instead Papa hands me the shovel and simply nods. Apparently I'm grown up enough for this. I catch a fleeting stiffening of Mama's face but then she forces a weak smile and busies herself with making the bread, pounding the dough somewhat harder than necessary. I weigh the metal in my gloved hand and a grin spreads over my face faster than syrup on a hot pancake.

By Angela Abraham (daisy), January 20, 2015.
General

Ravi looked at the lump. It had appeared so fast, now it was impossible to even button up the neck of his shirt. It was the same colour as the rest of the skin, perhaps a little red around the edges but not much. It was firm to the touch, like someone had inserted a rubber ball under his skin in the night and fastened it with invisible stitching. He'd been on the internet all morning and as a result he was almost ready to pre-order his coffin. Most people said it was an abscess, but others of course had cancer horror stories to tell. There was no option now but to call the doctor, either way he had to know. He dialled the number with his head swimming unhelpfully and his mouth uncharacteristically dry. His limbs felt like his muscles had been taken out and replaced with over-stretched elastic bands. The receptionist was talking, time to speak...

By Angela Abraham (daisy), February 23, 2015.
General

The fear thoughts looped around in my mind until there was no room for anything else. The "loop" played like this. "If I tell the cop about what he said, then George will be arrested. If I don't tell the truth, it might come out anyway. Then, I will be caught in a 'cover up.' The thought loop included plenty of anger at George. He made it appear as an accident. It was minus 22 degrees out, and he slipped over there, and poured the water on the doorstep so it would freeze. When Mr. Jeff Lench came out next morning, down he went to the bottom of the steps. He's been in the hospital for two days. He'll be okay, but the detective says that loud mouth George threatened to 'get even' with the banker for not giving him a loan. Mr. Jeff Lench had cleared that door step the night before, even spread sand out there." Loop. The detective's eyes. He is sizing me up. I've got to answer -but what?
Loop. Oh, the sun is up. What a dream.

By wmack99, January 22, 2015.

bill McDonald.

General

Since girlhood the premonition had always been the same; a dark eyed boy near a canal. He called her mommy and smiled before skipping out of sight. She would turn to the person she was in conversation with and resume talking. After some time she would call him, a name that was never clear enough to discern and he would not come back. She would call again, and again, to no avail. She never gave it much thought until her first child arrived, a brown eyed boy. She vowed that he would be a strong swimmer and never play by a canal, that she would never be so distracted as to not know where he was...but this was Norfolk. More than once she considered moving away, but her family was so close by and she convinced herself it was just a silly half-dream she was giving far too much significance.

By Angela Abraham (daisy), December 11, 2014.
General

In the middle of the room sat a clothes horse, almost buckling under the weight of wet laundry. A pool of water was spreading over the wooden floor and the signs of warping were already present in the boards. Alice ran her hand through her hair, teeth tugging at her cracking lower lip. Mother always shopped high end, everything had to be just so. How many times had she scolded her for spilling liquids on her precious floor? Ikea just wasn't her style.

By Angela Abraham (daisy), July 22, 2015.
Dystopian

These next few hours would either pass as a blip in the course of her life, or they would be the final trauma that broke her. Rose held her hand to Lydia's burning forehead, her body had to conquer the fever soon or she would perish. Rose paced the floor, busying herself bringing fresh clothes from the icy water bucket outside, never stopping for even a moment. At times the memory of finding Lydia in the wheat field would surface and she would swallow hard, willing her eyes to remain dry and her mind focused. The other children were watching and it was for her to show strength, embody the way forward, keep her own fears and grief away from their tender hearts.

By Angela Abraham (daisy), August 25, 2015.
General

As the daylight dwindled the tension in Skye grew. Simon should have been back by now, he promised. She filled the kettle to make coffee she had no intention of drinking and her eyes kept darting to the telephone that refused to ring. She turned the radio on and sat, only to turn it off just a minute later. When the kettle finally boiled and clicked off she was standing an inch from the front door, staring at it as if she could will Simon to open it, visualizing her smile of relief and the scold in her tone as she told him how worried she'd been.

By Angela Abraham (daisy), August 25, 2015.