by Rae Cod The icy deluge continued to pour, stinging his face and plastering his shirt and jeans to a body which a few days ago had felt strong, but… Torrent
An urban myth retold in this month’s short story offering. Thanks to Gobblers/Masticadores for publishing.
by Rae Cod
‘I heard he used the cash to buy a boat, called her Dignity,’ said Dave, taking a sip of his second pint of the evening.
‘Who told you that one?’ said Carl laughing as he made his way over from the bar to join them, ‘Deacon Blue?’
Dave looked puzzled for a second as John and Deborah laughed and the penny dropped.
‘It could still be true,’ he protested, ‘got any better ideas?’
Carl shrugged, ‘If it was me, I’d buy a huge island somewhere sunny, build a mansion where no one could find me.’
‘He was only collecting the parking money for twenty-five years,’ said Deborah, ‘not sure he’d have quite enough for that.’
‘Go on then Carole Vorderman,’ said John, how much did he get away with?
Deborah’s expression went blank for a few seconds as she retreated inside her head, lips moving silently as…
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A tale with a twist on this month’s short story offering. This was written in response to a flash fiction prompt which was the opening line. Thanks to Manuela & Gobblers/Masticadores for publishing.
by Rae Cod
She liked to fit people into the world like puzzle pieces. Unfortunately, not many people were what they seemed these days. It made finding suitable men such a chore. Take her last date, for example, she’d had high hopes. His profile had ticked all the boxes and she’d rolled out the seven-inch killer heels. She felt a spark as soon as they met; a thrill of anticipation shivered down her spine.
She worked her charm flawlessly, but he ruined it over dessert when he confided he was a Police Detective. A fact – he claimed – he omitted from his profile because of the ‘sensitive nature’ of his work. She nearly left him there at the table, so angry at this colossal waste of her time, but she forced herself to continue smiling and nodding in all the right places, was even able to bring herself to kiss him on the cheek as…
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It’s time for this month’s short story offering. I wrote this one a while ago for a short story competition (it didn’t win) and posted it on the blog last year. The brief was to write a story set at a bus stop with Bus in the title, I wonder if my title was bending … Continue reading Bust
A difference of opinion in this month’s short story offering to Gobblers/Masticadores. Sometimes it’s all a matter of perspective, don’t you think? Thank you as always to Manuela for publishing.
by Rae Cod
‘What do you mean you lost the baby?’ asked Alicia, her wide eyes begging Charmaine to get to the punchline.
‘I popped it down right there,’ shrugged Charmaine, pointing at a spot on an oversized sofa, ‘while I ordered a smoothie, by the time I’d turned around it was gone.’ She took a slurp of her drink and eyed Alicia warily.
‘Well, it’s not like it could’ve wandered off on its own, is it?!’ cried Alicia.
Charmaine suddenly found something interesting on the toe of her shoe.
‘Ohmygodohmygodohmygod…we lost a baby, we are in SO MUCH TROUBLE!’
Charmaine patted Alicia’s shoulder consolingly.
‘It’ll turn up, probably just some idiot’s idea of a prank. Smoothie?’ she proffered the cardboard cup towards Alicia but lowered it gingerly as Alicia’s carefully manicured eyebrows hit her hairline.
‘How can you be so calm about this, Charmaine?’ she asked, wringing her hands…
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A short story about the enduring and all encompassing nature of love published on Gobblers/Masticadores this week (thanks Manuela). Click the link to read the full story.
by Rae Cod
He knelt before her and took her liver-spotted hands in his, as gently as if he was collecting an injured bird. His eyes hadn’t changed since he was a baby, but what a strong young man he’d become. It wasn’t fair he had to carry this on his shoulders, but she could ease his burden.
‘Nonna, we have to go now, I’m sorry.’
She looked at him gently, but her voice was firm as she spoke.
‘I am staying here Nicolai.’
‘I am Katrina Van de Vars,’ she interrupted him, ’our family have lived here for five hundred years,five hundred yearsNicolai. I know that doesn’t mean much to you now, but it will one day. It will. I am not made for change any longer. I will stay. If there is a way to salvage our lives here, I will find it and…
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My latest short story published by Gobblers/Masticadores is inspired by my recent experience of ten days noble silence at the Dhamma Dipa Meditation Centre, though I should add the events are entirely fictional!
by Rae Cod
Millie followed the path around the trees as she had done every morning for the last six days. Six days surrounded by people but totally alone. She’d expected the silence to be heaven, but her own mind seemed determined to create torment. Six days down, four to go.
First, she convinced herself she’d left the iron on at home. By the time she got to day five she was pretty certain the whole of the outside world had been annihilated by a zombie apocalypse, but she couldn’t know for certain because she didn’t have her phone, though her hand kept going to her pocket anyway, she could almost feel it, like a phantom limb.
Why had she signed up for this course? The flyer said it would connect you with your true self.
If that’s what I’m experiencing, then my true self is more neurotic than a…
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I’m back in the land of the speaking after a ten day silent meditation course. I’ll be blogging all about it next week, in the mean time I’m breaking my blogging fast with a short story I wrote for Gobblers/Masticadores, hope you enjoy it.
by Rae Cod
‘Get back into bed, love,’ hushed Ayla’s mother bustling into the room. Caught in the act, legs dangling, toes stretched in anticipation of freedom. She’d almost made it.
‘Aw, come on Mama, I’m fine, look at me!’ Ayla jumped up and broke into a round of star jumps, dressing gown flapping to reveal sheep patterned pyjamas.
‘That’s not what your well-link says. If you don’t rest up, you could become seriously ill.’
‘Says whatever health rhythm is running that link!’ cried her mum, exasperated by her daughter’s complete lack of concern for her own well-being. ‘The rhythms were created for a reason, Ayla. I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to you, not after your brother.’
Ayla’s bounce fled and she sat down heavily on the bed, guilt twisting her gut as she met her mother’s eyes, where dark circles reflected shades of fear.
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Thank you to gobblers/masticadores for publishing my short story Trash and Treasure this month.
I wasn’t sure where this story was going but I enjoyed the journey. Hope you do too.
As always, please feel free to share if you know anyone who’d enjoy reading it.
by Rae Cod
Martin knew the saying; once man’s trash is another’s treasure, but it always amazed him the items that people discarded. Dropping it at the charity shop made them feel better about it, but make no mistake, if all the charity shops closed tomorrow it would be on the rubbish heap.
That’s how much stuff people were drowning in these days, he thought, so much they didn’t know what to do with it. On a typical day, they’d get board games, teddy bears, designer clothes with the labels on them, books, DVDs. That was just the normal stuff. Then you had the weird and (not so) wonderful; the see-through trouser suit (that one sold to a gentleman in a non-see-through pinstriped suit, the toilet seat (binned), the set of false teeth (also binned) and once a box of ashes that turned out to be the family dog, returned…
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Her heart hammered in her chest and her breath came in short, sharp gasps. Her focus was entirely on this last lap of the pool, not the other competitors, nor the time on the clock. For these moments she embodied one singular purpose: winning. She concentrated on her stroke, practised to near perfection. There was … Continue reading In the game