Short story 

1032 creative works found

• 

  When Brownie was alive
  by Michael Douglass

  US$3.99–US$91.20

  When Brownie was alive we’d ride our bikes through the dry heat and down the red dirt tracks, tires popping as pebbles flew from our paths, always a hot wind harsh and unfriendly. How I hated that wind. Somehow as children though, we overcome things like this, death and heat, sometimes as adults it’s harder. / At the river we’d gather the stones that had been shaped by the water that ran forever through the valley. Its a trickle now, with the years of drought that followed. But I see it as it was, a brown green snake slithering and winding, seemingly never ending. / Once the stones had been rocks and boulders, hills or cliffs by the ocean. Something for man and animal to stand on up high, or perch, bearers to things seemingly unreachable, but now they were small and worn, carried and tumbled and rounded into submissive pebbles. All semblance of might long gone. / When we had a pile we’d skim them. Counting the bounces, seeing who could throw furthest, bounce highest. Now the stones from our hands were glorious things, slicing through the air and slicking off the water, shooting and arcing. / Alive once again. Michael Douglass, 2009.

• 

  Two Young Sorceres's
  by silverstrummer - David Everitt

  “Two Young Sorceres’s” – A Collaboration Of Two Artist’s I would like to thank AnnMei for her kind consent of using her artwork to compliment the story! Please visit AnnMei” she is truly a wonderful Artist. This short story was inspired by the work of AnnMei called “Two Young Sorceress” We hope you enjoy this story as much as we enjoyed putting this together! FEATURED IN :- / 1) Dimensions – March 2009 2) Freedom In Words – March 2009 3) In – Between – March 2009 4) The Feature Fraternity – April 2009 5) Bits and Pieces – 21st April 2009 6) First Things Group – 17th May 2009 FEATURED, FEATURE IN :- / The Feature Fraternity Group – 31st March 2009 “Live Life For Today And Save A Smile For Somebody Tomorrow” – David “Two Young Sorceres’s” Copyright 2009 / All Rights Reserved – MCN: CE3A2-0A68E-8D118 / Two sisters Arina and Dasha had to stay at Grandpa’s house in the woods, whilst their Mum was in hospital having a baby. Well Grandpa’s old house was a big house and had lots of windows, chimneys and loads of shadows on the ground which was so scary, there was a big garden that went all around the house with brick walls as high as giants too! One day Grandpa told the girls to go and play upstairs whilst he washes his car outside, Arina and Dasha went upstairs and decided to play hide and seek, Dasha hid behind some big curtains, unfortunately Dasha forgot to hide her feet too. Arina shouts “Coming ready or not” well Arina looked up and down the long corridor and she saw these two little feet that were only half hidden. Arina pulled back the big heavy curtains and shouted gotcha! She had frightened Dasha but only for a moment as behind her was a secret door, they both looked at each other and smiled. Arina opened the door and saw stairs that were leading upwards towards the attic. Both girls went to investigate where the stairs led to, Arina turned the knob very slowly so as not to make a noise just in case someone was in the room! The door knob rattled a little and as she turned, the door was opening, there was a whooshing noise that rushed clean air into the loft! All of a sudden the room seemed to groan and then lit up and smelt so fresh and both girls rushed over to the window and saw grandpa still washing his car! They looked around the room and saw a big heavy chest over in the corner covered in cobwebs and dust they both went over to investigate! Dasha tried to open the lid but couldn’t budge it then Arina gave it a big push, suddenly the lid flew open and a bright light sprinkled gold flakes over the room, all of a sudden the room had disappeared and in its place was a bench on the hill, there was a lovely smell of grass and fluffy clouds floating by. The girls now very excited looked into the big case and pulled out some old clothes one pair of striped socks, two gold speckled dress’s, two black tea-shirts and two weird looking black hats oh and one pair of arm length pink gloves and a pink sash with a bow on it! The girls hurriedly changed clothes, Arina wore the socks, dress, tea-shirt, pink gloves that reached up to her elbows, she then put her hair in a bun and put the black hat on, wow she looked a scary sight but she also looked cute in a way.Dasha had no socks to put on or any pink gloves, so she put on the skirt and black tea-shirt and tied the pink sash around her waist it looked nice with the bow, a double WOW, WOW these two young ladies now looked like the fairytale Sorcerer’s! As soon as the hats went on a shudder came over them, then a fantastic feeling of power came over them too! The girls saw lots of Wooden Tracks in a pile, so they both decided to build a train track. It took them hours they thought, as they had managed to lay the tracks all over the hills and across the dales it didn’t take them as long as they thought only because they were wearing their magical hats! After the girls had finished building the tracks they decided that they had earned a rest, so they found a park bench on the crest of a hill. They both went over and sat down on the seat, Arina took off her left sock and draped it over the arm of the bench complaining it was too tight and that it hurt her toes, then she put her hands underneath her chin with a look of deep thought, now Arina always had a soft spot for steam trains and loved Thomas The Tank Engine she thought with a smile “wouldn’t it be lovely if a steam train come along our track just like Thomas” she then thought “no it won’t happen but wouldn’t it be nice if it did!” Dasha looks on playing with a wooden doll that she had found behind the bench all bound up with string. As Dasha was removing the string she said “He looks like Pinocchio but from now on I will call him Pinoch, then all of a sudden she shouts out making Arina Jump, “I think I saw him smile and wink his eyes at me!” Dasha couldn’t believe it ………. Was it true? she thought or did I imagine it? Dasha’s blonde hair had now come undone and fell down her left side. All of a sudden there was a sound Woo Woo, Chuff Chuff Arina and Dasha looked at each other and turned round quickly, they saw a wooden steam train hurtling down the track towards them, steam coming out from the funnel. The girls jumped for joy it looked so big and so real! All of a sudden the train stopped near the bench, Dasha noticed a tear in Pinoch’s eye, she wiped the tear away and Pinoch gave a little grin,Dasha shouted to Arina “Pinoch has come to life, quick come and look!” The young girls looked at each other amazed as Pinoch had somehow come alive! A little voice said “Oh thank you so much for setting me free, I have been tied up with string and I have been behind the bench for a long, long time and you came by and saved me!” The girls still amazed that Pinoch could talk, they asked him where do you come from? Where do you live?” Pinoch replied “I live right over there in Wood Town” pointing over to the hills, “My friends and I were playing and we play tie up and we have to roll down the hill! Unfortunately there was a big wind and I got blown from down the valley and up the dales and I landed here, it’s a good job the bench had stopped me rolling over to the next hill, I don’t know where I am really, can you help me please to get back home?” Arina and Dasha looked at each other and thought, and thought with their imaginations working, they both looked at the train and went to see the driver. Unfortunately there wasn’t any driver all that was in the train cab was a note and two buttons, one being green for “On” and the other being red for “Off” there was a dial to put in your destinations and also a chord for the whistle too. Well the girls said to Pinoch we will have to try it and see what happens so they all get on board feeling excited with their new friend and new adventure! Pinoch put in the destination Wood Town and Arina pressed the green button and the train started up and began to increase in speed. Dasha pulled the chord for the whistle the train was getting up to speed and the smoke was coming from the funnel. Over the dales and over the hills they went they saw wooden ladybirds and wooden mice and a wooden farmer on his wooden tractor waving. They finally arrived in Wood Town, Dasha pressed the red button and the train slowed right down and stopped, they were greeted by a big crowd of wooden people, clapping their hand and jumping for joy. The girls had brought their friend Pinoch back home! / A wooden helicopter flew by very low and the pilot shouted “Thank goodness you have found our friend we thought we had lost him for sure, I have been searching for him for weeks! Pinoch jumped off the train and shouted thank you to the girls. / Dasha looked at the dial in the cab and put in “Park Bench” and Arina pressed the green button for go! The train started to move and the girls waved at all the people and shouted goodbye, they saw Pinoch who was running after the train shouting for joy as he blew them a kiss to say thank you and farewell. Arina pulled the chord and the train whistled as it sped away from Wood Town! Over the hills and down the dales they went. It seemed a long journey but didn’t they have some fun? The train came up towards the top of the hill and they could see the park bench, Dasha pressed the red button and the train slowed down and stopped. The girls got off the train and stretched right out as it had been a long journey. They sat on the bench and Arina said to Dasha “ Do you know what we have done today?” Dasha replied “Yes we have built a train track all around this beautiful countryside, and I found Pinoch and took all that string off him, we caught the train and took him home to Wood Town, on the way we saw a wooden mouse, a wooden ladybird, a wooden farmer on his wooden tractor, we saw a wooden helicopter and loads of wooden people too, we have done a lot in one day haven’t we?” / Arina replied “Yes we have, but isn’t it funny because it was like a magical mystery tour we did and I think it is something to do with when we opened that large trunk in Grandpa’s attic there was gold flakes floating around and the room changed into hills and dales and we put the hats on and we shuddered I think they have turned us both into Sorcerer’s! “Oh heck” shouts Arina, “it’s Grandpa, he’s shouting us,” the girls took off their hats and as soon as they did the hills and dales had disappeared altogether and they were back in Grandpa’s attic. “Girls are you up there?” “Yes Grandpa” the girls shouted back and quickly undressed and put their own clothes back on. They looked out of the little window in the attic and saw Grandpa outside just finishing washing his car. As they closed the door behind them the room creaked back to it’s normal state, dusty and their was no evidence that the girls had ever been in there! The girls went outside to Grandpa’ and gave him a huge hug and kiss, Grandpa said “Have you been playing nicely girls?” they answered back “Yes Grandpa we have!” / “Good” Grandpa replied “Guess what girls? We are going to see your Mum in hospital and your baby brother too!” The girls jumped up and down they were so pleased that Mum was alright and that they had a baby brother too. The girls gave Grandpa a big hug and a kiss, Grandpa was leaking as a little tear came from Grandpa’s eyes because he was so happy and loved his family!

• Fish n Chips
  by Nina Cullen

  / “The Hawaiian pack will be another couple of minutes,” Lindsay apologised to the boy in blue board shorts. He shrugged and she follo…

  / “The Hawaiian pack will be another couple of minutes,” Lindsay apologised to the boy in blue board shorts. He shrugged and she followed the freckles on his back as he retreated back to his girlfriend who was sitting on the steps outside. She dropped the banana and pineapple fritters into the oil one at a time. They plopped under then rose to the top with oil fizzing at their edges like a Berocca. She stood back from the deep fryer and wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. Two more hours and she could untie her apron, switch t-shirts and walk down to the water to go for a quick swim. The first dip under was magic, it washed the chicken salt from under her fingers, the fish smell from her hair and the semi-scowl of injustice from her face. / From her place behind the counter Lindsay could smell the salt air and see the gulls but she couldn’t see the beach. She served the hungry people all lured by a salt water dip and the dream of a tan. They walked past in a selection of paint-chart shades, rude reds that were going to hurt to sleep on, browns so baked they were more a texture than a colour and yellows that had come out of a bottle for the day. They walked in bikinied, boardshorted, barefoot and thronged. And then they walked out again and it was then that Lindsay felt the distance over the counter and out the door. / She hadn’t left the city these holidays, not once. There were girls whose families owned houses up or down the coast, the whole family packed their daily life together and just moved it to another town. Her friend Crystal had posters on the wall and clothes permanently in the cupboard at her holiday house. Lindsay had stayed with Crystal and her family for a week in the September holidays. She was so happy to be there, tucked neatly in a real bed that wasn’t just a mattress on the floor. Yet the whole week she had been shadowed by something unsettling. She didn’t like not being happy for Crystal but she hated going to bed every night with a new list of things to wish she had; her own room in a holiday house, two parents, coco pops for breakfast, naturally olive skin, siblings on either side of her, a grandfather, a natural patience for fishing, a Mum who gave her pocket money. She wasn’t sure if it was green-eyed or not but there did feel like there was some sort of monster inside Lindsay. Better not to enjoy lovely things if it meant then lying awake at night, every thought starting with the impossible mantra of ‘I wish……’ / The idea was supposed to be that if you really wished for something it would come true. That it was all a matter of discipline and dedication in the wishing. Hard enough, was that about squinting your eyes and creasing your forehead? Wasn’t it enough that Lindsay lay in bed and sometimes cried about all the things she thought she would never get? When she was at their school fete last year she had bought raffle tickets for a home entertainment system. She thought that maybe because she really wanted it, it would be her name that got pulled out of the barrel and that maybe it really was all fair in the end, all of this random stuff. She was so sure she would win, so sure that it was time to balance everything else out that she felt she was owed. / “Green 57. McLintock,” the Vice Principal’s voice echoed with the same intonation from assemblies. Be careful what you wish for – not at all, there was no justice in this world and no need to be cautious about wishing. / / “Looking for any extra shifts over Christmas?” Roger had taken Lindsay aside before she left one Thursday night. He had a pair of tongs still in his hands that he pointed at her and they glistened with the dribbles of everything they had touched. / “I guess so,” Lindsay answered. / “Have a think about it. Long hot summer,” he winked, “there will be as much work as you want. You a morning or afternoon start on Saturday?” / “Afternoon,” Lindsay replied. She preferred an early start where her shift wasn’t always there throughout the day, hanging around like an unwritten essay. / The mystery with Roger was that he seemed to love what he did. He was always whistling and smiling and from what the older ladies had told Lindsay about his life she wasn’t sure that there was much to be whistling about. He joked with the customers, even the cranky and indecisive ones. He smiled as he wrestled barbequed chickens from their rotisserie and as he flipped patties over on the hot plate. / / Lindsay stood behind the bain-marie, wiped a strand of hair out of her eyes and got to work on the next order. She had more to add to her wish list behind that counter than in Crystal’s holiday house; to not be working, to be spending the day with friends, to look that good in a Roxy bikini, to have a boyfriend, to have hair that bleached naturally in the sun…… / “Number 13, Hawaiian pack,” Lindsay called over the hiss of the hot plate. The boy in the blue board shorts walked up to the counter. The shorts sat low on his hips, leaving a belt of white skin. The hair that was bleached on his stomach darkened there in a line that disappeared under his Velcro. / “$7.00 thanks.” / He held a bottle of coke up. / “And the Coke, that’s $10 exactly.” Lindsay blushed, $10 exactly? He didn’t care that she worked here so many hours that getting an order adding up to a neat dollar was worth mentioning. He gave her a handful of coins. Nervous of touching his fingers, she dropped some of them, they rolled off the counter and onto the floor. Lindsay picked up the few stray coins and counted them out in a fluster. She lost count and started again, hating that the boy was watching her. / “Sorry, I need another 50 cents.” / The boy raised his eyebrows and stuck a hand in his pocket, bringing it out empty. “Bec,” he called outside, “you got 50 cents?” / Lindsay looked down at the bench to avoid the hungry customers who couldn’t believe 50 cents was the reason they hadn’t placed their order yet. A man came forward to the counter and slapped down a coin. / “50 cents?” / “Thanks buddy!” the boy took his bag and disappeared in the same direction every other tanned boy went. / “Can I order now?” The man wasn’t really asking a question. He was wearing the Dad combination of a t-shirt over speedoes. His legs were meaty and white and covered in hair that was still wet and slicked. He stood there half arms crossed and began his order, “One calamari and chips, two fish and chips, a hamburger with barbeque sauce and a medium serve of chips.” / “That’ll be about ten minutes.” Lindsay handed him a ticket, “You’re number 22.” He snatched the ticket away and walked towards the door in heavy I’ve-got-the-shits steps. People only ever seemed to order when they were starving and the extra wait of ten minutes seemed outrageous to them. Lindsay started to hate him on principle of his rudeness and the fact that his t-shirt wasn’t long enough to hide what she didn’t want to see of his speedoes. / / “See ya!” Lindsay balled up her apron and threw it into the washing basket. She had been dreaming about this all day. She walked out through the front exit to savour the freedom and remind herself what the world looked like when you weren’t behind a counter. The world looked great. Afternoon sun was giving everything a makeover. She shook her towel out of her bag and yanked off her t-shirt. Be-gone o odour of chicken fat, be-gone scent of battered fish. / There were lots of people on the boardwalk and plenty of people at the tide line but there was no one in the water. Further down the beach, there were lifesavers with mega phones. Lindsay walked past the outdoor shower and kicked her thongs off. The queue of people were all facing the water and looking out with hands shading their eyes as if myopia could be lifted by resting your hand on your brow. / “What’s going on?” Lindsay asked an older lady. / “Shark alarm,” the woman answered, “they’ve closed the beach until further notice.” / “When did it happen?” / “Just a few minutes ago, they’re still clearing swimmers out down that end.” / Lindsay followed the woman’s finger to the pacing lifesavers. / Beach closed. That’d be bloody right! / She turned around and trudged off to the bus stop.

• 

  There's Beauty in the Breakdown
  by Selkie

  US$4.32–US$98.80

  Selfportrait, series Drink up babydoll / Are you in or are you out? / Leave your things behind / ‘Cause it’s all going off without you / Excuse me too busy / you’re writing a tragedy / These mess-ups you bubble-wrap / When you’ve no idea what you’re like So, let go / Jump in / Oh well, what you waiting for? / It’s all right / ‘Cause there’s beauty in the breakdown / So, let go / Just get in / Oh, it’s so amazing here / It’s all right / ‘Cause there’s beauty in the breakdown It gains the more it gives / And then advances with the form / So, honey, back for more / Can’t you see that all the stuff’s essential? / Such boundless pleasure / We’ve no time for later / Now you can wait / You roll your eyes / We’ve twenty seconds to comply So, let go / Jump in / Oh well, what you waiting for? / It’s all right / ‘Cause there’s beauty in the breakdown / So, let go / Just get in / Oh, it’s so amazing here / It’s all right / ‘Cause there’s beauty in the breakdown ~Let Go, Frou Frou

• Open the Cage
  by Damian

  I’m wide awake and dreaming.

  For the Twisted Tales comp on the theme of On the Streets

• 

  SHIRT STORIES - GLENDA!!! LIFES TOO SHORT TO BE MISERABLE
  by cottoncandy

  US$26.93

  This tee tells the tale of Glenda, illustrating that life is too short to be miserable… enjoy!!!!!

• 

  Hold the Mayo
  by John Fish

  US$4.66–US$33.25

  He dripped with sexuality when in a group. One on one, he was cold, rejecting and insulting. I ran his errands, swept up broken glass when he fell and listened to screams in the night from memories, dreams, imagined scenes or as he commonly called them, simply, “They.” / They were out there. They were coming. They were communicating from outer space through toilet paper tubes which he refused to throw away leading to an odd collection of plastic bags filled with empty toilet paper rolls. Filling closets. Stuffed under beds. Under counters. / If in some fit of cleaning frenzy I ever even thought of throwing them out I would stop myself before I got out the door. It was like throwing away another’s flag or religious icon even if I didn’t believe in its significance. / “Hold the Mayo,” he said to the waitress. He was behind broad, black sunglasses, a baseball cap pulled down low on smooth white skin and black, clinging clusters of hair. / Which I longed to touch. Which I longed to touch. Which I longed to touch. / I chuckled, knowing that he would soon call her back to revise his order. Again and again and again and then finally say “Forget it, I’m just drinking tonight.” / Always the same. / He said something charming. / I laughed. / He got louder. / People joined in the conversation. It became quit festive. Then a fight would start creeping into the conversation. I would overhear people saying things such as, “What’s he mean by that?” and “That’s not true.” I would pay and shuffle us out the door. / In the car he would be silent. / At home he would not speak. Conversation was inadequate, trivial and unnecessary. He knew what I was thinking. I could never fathom his thoughts in a million years. The walls were both a prison and a security blanket. / Because it was there that “They” would be able to find him. / It was also there that I lived. This abstract is acrylic on canvas 30”x60”

• 

  Open the Door
  by John Fish

  US$3.99–US$91.20

  “Open the Door.” The middle-aged woman stood on the red brick landing of an apartment building that grew from a garden of purple flower and green spiked leaves, up over a facade of Tudor designs and into the clouds of heavy spirits that hovered over the sign the read “For Rent. Pet Friendly.” / The woman continued to shout. Not one window opened. Not one face grew close to a window. Not one voice responded. She seemed to be yelling at nobody or anybody or herself or the heavens or the sidewalk or the garden. Suddenly on of the spirits from above swept down and picked the lock on the front door. The woman pushed in, turned to the spirit and said, “Nice trick. Did you learn that in heaven.” / “No, not quite,” he responded. “There are no locked doors there. No I learned that many years ago. I knew one day it would come in handy.” / “Well, thanks,” she said. Then she turned to the interior hall and looked about with puzzled squinting eyes. It was obvious she did not know where to go. It was obvious she had not really ever imagined to door would open. / “Glad to be of service,” The spirit nodded and floated back up to the top of the building.

• 

  Middle C
  by Midori Furze

  US$3.99–US$91.20

  This is my very short story. / The girl in my illustration is called “Miss Clef” / I have some stories with her. There is a episode from “Middle C” in my journal. / Please visit it too!!

• Frederick's Freedom
  by LeislEgan

  Frederick had always wondered what life was like outside the bowl. It drove his wife Lynda mad. But Frederick couldn’t help it…

• 

  Beauty in the Breakdown
  by Selkie

  US$4.32–US$98.80

  Selfportrait – series Drink up, babydoll / Are you in or are you out? / Leave your things behind / ‘Cause it’s all going off without you / Excuse me too busy / you’re writing a tragedy / These mess-ups you bubble-wrap / When you’ve no idea what you’re like So, let go / Jump in / Oh well, what you waiting for? / It’s all right / ‘Cause there’s beauty in the breakdown / So, let go / Just get in / Oh, it’s so amazing here / It’s all right / ‘Cause there’s beauty in the breakdown It gains the more it gives / And then advances with the form / So, honey, back for more / Can’t you see that all the stuff’s essential? / Such boundless pleasure / We’ve no time for later / Now you can wait / You roll your eyes / We’ve twenty seconds to comply So, let go / Jump in / Oh well, what you waiting for? / It’s all right / ‘Cause there’s beauty in the breakdown / So, let go / Just get in / Oh, it’s so amazing here / It’s all right / ‘Cause there’s beauty in the breakdown ~Let Go, Frou Frou

• 

  Icy Shore
  by Kathie Nichols

  US$3.99–US$91.20

  “The icy wind blew quickly by, making my bones feel like cold stone. I’ll have to pick up the pace a little, get the blood circulating to keep me warm. I really don’t know why I put myself through this torture, at least this time I had enough sense to stretch my limbs before I headed out. Funny thing, once I’m off and away with my blood pumping fast, my skin starts to tingle all over, its not all that bad. I laughed at myself Well, thats what keeps you young and healthy, my Dad used to say…excercise! My thoughts ran off in various directions as always, never can hold a still thought in my head. That’s one for the books….I’ll never be lonely…always having a conversation in my head! I reached the rocks at the end of the shore in no time, not puffing too badly this time. Such a tranquil and peaceful walk….maybe thats what draws me to venture out here alone. I turned and headed for home feeling the exhiliration and sense of well being that always has me coming back for more” Macro photograph from the bark of a tree! All of my photographs are now available to buy in gallery size prints, on paper or canvas* Please contact me directly for sizes and pricing! My Sales / UrbanArt / Panoramics / Rockscapes / Barkscapes / Flowers / Paintings / Sunsets / Story Photoart Please visit my group / Nature’s Macro Canvas / Macro photography group for Abstract Landscapes/Art found in nature! and my new group…... / Abstract Macro Urban Art

• 

  Possession
  by John Fish

  US$3.99–US$91.20

  Behind the wall of brick and stucco a small, frail man knelt to pick up fruit that had fallen on a sidewalk on a side street that nobody knew existed, even those who lived there. / He felt around with arthritic hands and found nuts, bolts, skeletons, fried food, paper and cuff links. Finally his fingers settled on a ripe avocado and he wrapped his palm around its lumpy skin and pulled himself up with his other hand which was bandaged because he had bumped into a poster advertising an old flame of his who had become a successful actress and, even at 109 years old was still playing in hit movies because she was also the lover of a former president’s mistress who had connections with the Mafia and several right wing Christian groups who controlled congressional committees involving the entertainment industry. / “Small world,” He commented to a passing lady who turned and quickly covered her face to avoid eye contact. / “I used to own an avocado farm.” / He slowly walked to the corner and joined the throngs of people who marched toward the settlement house that was two and one half miles North of the military post. / The walked in huddles. Family members and friends tried to stay together if possible. / The old man knew had nobody to join so he walked alone and was able to pass the others when they came to the narrow gates that everyone had to pass through in order to be inoculated, disinfected and screened. He flashed his identification card to a soldier with one eye. Then he saw the bungalow and entered from a window that had been broken the year before in the war between California and China. He huddled in a corner and settled in for a long night of bombs, screaming and the thunder of music. The military played loud dance songs over loud speakers all night long to cover the noise of gunshots. They said it was safe. / The old man knew better. / He had lived long enough to remember freedom.

• 

  Old New Yorker
  by John Fish

  US$3.99–US$91.20

  The old New Yorker had lived in Hollywood for over forty years and was born in Texas. The lines of the face show sun, stress, involvement, isolation, many loves and one true love. Wrinkles were embedded with smoke and surf and dust and traffic with inches of drive to succeed, an unwillingness to ever give up and softened with the power to let go, forget and do nothing except watch the wind for hours. Some wine had helped in the past. In recent years all that was left was waiting. And that was enough. Because the dream still survived. Old New Yorker is acrylic and India ink on masonite. 20”x 16”

• 

  Desire...
  by Karl Denton

  US$4.99–US$114.00

  Was typing a long thing going to ask for help naming this when the word popped into my head… A wonderfully beautiful image depicting what I suppose is my visual interpretation of desire.

• SHORT STORY PRIZE SHORTLIST
  by RedBubble

  The 30 finalists of the RedBubble Unleashed Short Story Prize can be viewed here...

  The 30 finalists of the RedBubble Unleashed Short Story Prize can be viewed here These finalists were voted for by the RedBubble community and our judge will be making her selection of the winners this week. Part of the prize for the 15 winners includes tickets to the Emerging Writers’ Festival held in Melbourne on 25 and 26 May – finalists please keep those dates in mind. The book launch will be held at Readings, Carlton, on Tuesday 22 May at 6.30pm. All RedBubble members are welcome to come along. Congratulations to those members on the shortlist and thank you to everyone who entered and voted in the competition. We had a fantastic response – over 240 entries. And we have been thrilled with the standard of the entries.

• Forsaken
  by Cailean

  Some jumpers shut their eyes, afraid of the inevitable impact. I kept my nerve – I forced the fear away and kept mine open, my vision sat…

  This piece has been superbly illustrated by Shanina Conway here Look at the picture AFTER you’ve read the story!

• Some short tales from Ground Zero
  by Phoenix-Appeal

  by Anne van Alkemade / A friend of mine recently returned from the affected areas of the Victorian Bushfires after four days of helping at…

  by Anne van Alkemade / A friend of mine recently returned from the affected areas of the Victorian Bushfires after four days of helping at relief centres in Yarra Glen and Kinglake. She and a work colleague were given special leave to head down there to help and some of the stories she has brought back are both devastating and also proof of the resilience of the human spirit. There were also some bits and pieces that have you shaking your head in wonder at the stupidity of people, but the positive ones and the sad ones I’d like to share with you here if I may. One thing that hit Sarah straight away, the most significant thing, was that victims young and old were at the mercy of strangers and that they had lost ALL privacy. This may not seem like a big thing to you and I. Most of us probably haven’t experienced this before and so it’s easy to take it for granted. Sarah walked into a relief centre and all along one side were people, counsellors and professionals in suits sitting at tables; on the other side were stores of donated goods; and in the middle were mattresses on the floor for people to sleep on. There were no petitions or curtains, no barriers, nothing to give people a place to rest and grieve in private. My friend and her colleague immediately went to work to provide some sort of barrier around these ‘sleeping quarters’ with cots and other items to at least give people some sense of privacy, a space they could call their own. Poignant, sad and surprising to me were some of the stories about people being helped with goods. The suit / Sarah told me about a man who was looking at suits. He kept going back to the same one, pulling it out from the rack, shaking his head and putting it back. So she went over and asked him if he needed help. Sarah said you could not mistake his actions as someone being picky, just from the shock on his face, and he broke down in tears. “This suit isn’t right. I need a suit for my friend’s funeral”. She gave him comfort, then left him to grief in private; although later finding a pair of new shoes that were right for him. Shoes / Another shoe story. A middle aged woman was sitting admiring a pair of sparkling evening high heels on her feet. (Who would donate such an item in these circumstances, you may think?). Sarah suggested something more practical and the response she got surprised her but it was perfectly understandable. “I used to have a lot of shoes, lovely shoes. They’re all gone now. Please can I have these. Please. I don’t care if I have to walk through rubble, I really want these shoes.” Of course she could have them! They gave the woman with some semblance of normality. That special cup of tea / A local cafe was aware that one of their regular, elderly customers had not been sighted for several days. They were unsure if she was okay, but sought out her special brand of tea and took it to her neighbourhood. Her house was still standing and they knocked on her door. She was relatively okay and in reasonable spirits, delighted to receive the gift. What is particularly significant here though is that she had been isolated in her home and had not seen anyone for many days. All around her was ash and debris AND three car loads of burnt out cars filled with people in her front yard. This poor woman was sheltering in her home with deceased victims very near her front door. How can you comprehend this? Anyone left for tennis? / A man came into the relief centre and asked for a tshirt so he could play tennis on Saturday morning. This request was somewhat surprising but it was explained to my friend that the local tennis courts and clubhouse had remarkably been untouched by the fires. Who could play tennis at a time like this? But the man explained that they played every Saturday. Half the club members had perished in the fires but the survivors needed to play on Saturday. Perhaps to honour their memory, but certainly it was something they did every weekend and again it is people seeking something normal in their very abnormal lives. They were all fitted out with complete outfits and brand new tennis shoes. The unadmirable aspect of human nature / Many people came to the relief centre where my friend was helping even though it was not the main area at Whittlesea. The reason – there was not much in the way of media hanging around. Okay, they have a job to do, but having cameras stuck in the faces of people in desperate times is not helping anyone. Need to know? Hmmm. My friend said at one stage two people were ejected from the relief centre. They had entered the centre carrying bags with holes cut out of the sides for the lenses of their cameras. I wonder why the journalist code of ethics no longer applies? Sarah also said there was a group of people hovering around the front door peering in. She asked them if they were local residents needing help. “Nope. We’re good. We just wanted to have a look around.” They were given short shrift … and promptly sent on their way. And finally – I am always stunned when I hear that in these circumstances the selfishness of people can possibly emerge. All relief workers are on the alert for looters. There have been incidences of people not from fire affected areas visiting these centres looking for handouts. Can you believe that? But for those working with people who are the real ones in need, it is not hard to spot the charlatans! On a positive note / So many people have lost loved ones, lost everything they ever owned, lost their jobs and schools – and are well and truly entitled to money, goods and all on offer to help them get their lives back together again. But so many people who are given things have either given them back or passed them on to people they feel are in greater need. “Thank you, but I don’t need this. I want someone who truly needs it to have it,” is not an uncommon thing for relief workers to hear. And finally / Sarah said that even though she wanted to cry at so many of the things she saw, and the suffering that people are enduring, she knew that “this is not about me. I had to be strong, because most of all that’s what these people need; someone to be there for them.” She said she believes this is a common credo of all people working together in eastern and northern Victoria and the spirit of everyone working together to the common good was inspiring and heartening. The Aussie spirit of a fair go is well and truly alive in the areas devastated by the Black Saturday Bushfires.

• 

  Little Runaway
  by Barbara Sparhawk

  US$5.82–US$41.56

  Pen & Ink drawing from “Midnight Manhattan” / From “The Gandy Dancer & Other Short Stories” Trafford 2004 or amazon.com, by BD Sparhawk

• 

  Attached Once Upon a time and Belonging to the Group
  by RealPainter

  US$5.65–US$129.20

  just a lone feather all alone in da grass, was once attached to its owenr, now left alone in the big big world, and getting all wet with dew and forgotten and no one but me knows its there or cares where it is, i see it and i love it and i think its a nice one….....and i hope you still see the life that once Was, it makes the bird…..you see.

• On Exhibit
  by H M Bascom

  She threaded her way through the crowd, anonymous, unadorned black dress, holding only a glass of wine- and her tongue.

  A short work of fiction / MCN:CDF21-56947-EF040 Copyright Notice / © 2005-2009 Helen M. Bascom / All rights reserved. None of the materials provided on this web page may be used, reproduced or transmitted, in whole or in part, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or the use of any information storage and retrieval system, downloading, printing, or linking without permission in writing from Helen M. Bascom. Removal of electronic copyright information, digital fingerprints, or embedded watermarks on any image is strictly prohibited. To request permission to use any material on this page, to link to any image, and for further inquiries, contact Ms. Bascom by email. CLICK HERE to submit your request.

• Love Story
  by pinkelephant

  Her image appeared like a beheaded Juno in the mirror. Her body looked soft, incongruously so. Flesh that would split at the slightest pr…

  An anti-love story. Black boots and great expectations.

• 

  The Photographer
  by Philip Rogan

  US$4.85–US$110.96

  “After he took this picture the photographer was snatched by the hidden security team from this industrial plant. I had been with him taking pictures in a supermarket when we had heard a rumour about this place. We made our way over, stopped for a BLT on the way in a local Spar shop where I think we were overheard by the shop assistant who may or may not have been a shop assistant after all. I managed to get away but I never saw him again and it’s been ten years. I would love to see the photograph he took that caused his dissapearance.”, said Mihailovic in a breathless flutter before downing his sixth Martini. / “I’ve been in real estate ever since” he finished putting down his glass on the waiters tray and gently twirled his Rolex, “Can I have the photo back please?” / I handed it over to him unsure as to how to take in his story and I began wondering why he carried that photo around with him. “Did he sell more houses that way?” I wondered. short story industrial giant versus tiny photographer tall tales told in tittle tattle

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  Possession Again
  by John Fish

  US$3.99–US$91.20

  The old man remembered when the streets had been paved with glitter and sequins, if not gold and silver. He remembered who people sat in restaurants and drank coffee and wine and ate fresh fish and crab cakes. He remembered holding hands with lovely young women in colorful short skirts. He remembered living in homes with lawns filled with flowers. / Now there was only fear and hatred and desperation. / Yet everyone neglected to admit it. They were either paranoid of being persecuted or just lying to themselves. / The voice in the music was scratchy and sinister. He tried to plug his ears with sawdust, but it did no good. / The dust rose and settled around the corner he had settled into. The wall began to shake with volcanic pressure and he put his arms over his head. / Suddenly the door opened and a cloud moved forward, plopped onto a crumby wooden table in the center of the corroded floor boards and fixed itself on the tiny lamp that was the only type allowed. / The cloud smiled and introduced itself. / The old man was not impressed and turned away. He had seen clouds before. However this one was different. It shook out a flurry of shiny silver coins. The coins spun in a circle and slowly formed into a pony. / It was a beautiful pony / The old man slowly rose up, pulled a box over to stand on and climbed onto the horses back. The pony leaped forward, darted through the doorway, turned onto a sliver of grass that threaded through a canyon of blue that dripped green and ran. They gained momentum. / The old man turned to see people below him shouting and aiming pistols. / He laughed at them. / Then they rode away to the desert where a glacier had melted and formed a tranquil pool. The settlement of refugees greeted the old man with hugs and smiles. He found a cottage and settled in and began to live again for the first time in many years. They were all happy. Even though it was a secret.