Contributors have the opportunity of suggesting an opening sentence and completing it, if they wish, which will then be published on this page for others to attempt. Submissions of no more than 200 words will then be published on this page and in time will feature in their own book.
December 2024
Passing drivers slowed down as she fell off the kerb onto the road. One driver stopped to ask if she was okay....
Rapture
by Kamran Connelly
Passing drivers slowed down as she fell off the kerb onto the road. One driver stopped to ask if she was okay.
“You alright love?” he asked as he exited the car to assist her.
She sat up and pointed to the large beam of light shining down from the dark canopy of the night sky.
“Look, it’s the rapture. It’s Jesus!” she said.
He looked up towards the blinding light and chaotic thunderous sound that accompanied it. Loud, all-consuming and vibrating the ground beneath them.
“That’s not Jesus, love,” he told her, as he took her hand and helped her to her feet.
“Oh no, is it the aliens - don’t let them take me!” she said panicked, pulling herself into his chest for safety.
The stench of whiskey orbited the air around her mouth, and up close her eyes had skewed from regular alignment.
“I’ve gotta get out of here before they take me!” she said, pushing the helpful man away and breaking into a drunken attempt at running.
The man watched on as she took eight shaky steps before she crashed to the pavement again.
“It’s just a police helicopter you daft drunk!” he shouted.
April 2024
The lights flickered as the man sat at the table eating his evening meal and his dog howled....
One more day
by Kamran Connelly
The lights flickered as the man sat at the table eating his evening meal and his dog howled, a long sorrow filled note. He shouted through the door towards the porch. “Butch. Shut up! I told ya, I’m doing it.”
Butch howled again, shifting his eyes from his human at the table, to the noose hanging from the large wooden arch above him.
“I mean it, I’m doing it this time. You can’t talk me out of it.”
Butch woofed in rebuttal and harrumphed in a series of small grunts to himself as he walked over to the table with an adamant stride and sat at the leg of his human. As he scraped the last bite of his poorly cooked steak through the remnants of his under cooked egg. Butch placed his paw on his knee and held a tilted head towards him.
“Here,” he tut-ted, feeding butch the last bite.
“Ok,” he said, “I’ll give you one more day - but tomorrow. Tomorrow I’m gonna do it, I swear it,” he said for the seventy-second consecutive day in a row.
Butch circled on the spot, curling into a content ball at his human’s feet.
And the lights flickered again.
Lundup knew
by Leela Gautam
(An occurrence based in Kathmandu on April 25, 2015, the day the earthquake hit the city.)
The lights flickered as the man sat eating his evening meal and his dog howled.
"Shush Lundup," said the man, giving the dog a pat.
The howling stopped for a moment, then got louder. Lundup tugged at the leash from under his master’s foot. People at other tables turned to glower at them.
"Shouldn’t allow dogs in here," one muttered.
The man turned to apologise, dropped his spoon and rose.
"What is it Lundup? Do you want a wee? Come on then."
As he picked up his white stick and the leash the whole place trembled and shook. The lights went out. By the time they reached the exit, plates crashed to the floor, chairs tumbled. People screamed.
"Buechalo ahyo (earthquake has come)," shouted a waiter in Nepali.
There was bedlam. Everyone tried to rush out, some falling over chairs and tables dispersed around the room.
Meanwhile, Lundup had led his master safely out of the building.
The tremors worsened as people hurried to the open ground. A building collapsed nearby. People clung to each other crying. The man hugged his dog. Lundup had felt the earthquake before it hit. He had howled to save his partially sighted master.
Man's Best Friend
by Donna Turner
The lights flickered as the man sat at the table eating his evening meal and his dog howled.
“We’ll have to put twenty pence in the meter,” he joked to his companion.
The joke was he didn’t have twenty pence, not until payday at least. He laid his plate of unfinished food down in front of the dog, “Can’t have you going hungry now can we?”
The man got up from the table and, ignoring the steadily increasing pile of washing up, walked through to the living room. He headed for his favourite spot, the wingback armchair that once belonged to his mother, a bit lacklustre in colour and plumpness but still comfy nonetheless.
Now his best friend had a full belly and was once again snuggled by his feet, the man switched on the TV.
“Should be just enough time to watch the news before the electricity goes off,” he told the dozing dog.
They sat there together in perfect silence listening to the troubles from around the world, and just before the weather report had finished, the electricity went off.
“Nevermind old boy, at least we’ve got each other. That's more than some of those poor souls.”
by Mike Davis
The lights flickered as the man sat at the table eating his evening meal and his dog sat at his feet, howling, chops salivating, and eyeing the platter for a morsel. He’d found the stray on his previous trip to the cabin. In the valley where the Greyhound dropped him and his backpack, he’d spotted the dog muzzle-deep in a jettisoned fried chicken tub.
‘What you got there, Fella?’
The dog ignored him, which he considered entirely understandable since the tub was printed with Maisie’s Fried Chicken Ranch in red cursive. Wasn’t it obvious? The dog double-licked the tub pristine and trailed him across town, following along the track through the woods, keeping a polite four-foot gap until they reached the cabin.
Fella had been his companion ever since. That was until the bulb dangling above the table fizzed and popped. He ceased whining while the man felt his way out to the porch and lit up the storm lantern, stretching his arm out in front, illuminating the table.
Fella bolted through the open door into the darkness; the last rib clenched in his jaws. The man shrugged and refrained from yelling. A hungry dog without hope knows no loyalty.
Passing drivers slowed down as she fell off the kerb onto the road. One driver stopped to ask if she was okay....
Rapture
by Kamran Connelly
Passing drivers slowed down as she fell off the kerb onto the road. One driver stopped to ask if she was okay.
“You alright love?” he asked as he exited the car to assist her.
She sat up and pointed to the large beam of light shining down from the dark canopy of the night sky.
“Look, it’s the rapture. It’s Jesus!” she said.
He looked up towards the blinding light and chaotic thunderous sound that accompanied it. Loud, all-consuming and vibrating the ground beneath them.
“That’s not Jesus, love,” he told her, as he took her hand and helped her to her feet.
“Oh no, is it the aliens - don’t let them take me!” she said panicked, pulling herself into his chest for safety.
The stench of whiskey orbited the air around her mouth, and up close her eyes had skewed from regular alignment.
“I’ve gotta get out of here before they take me!” she said, pushing the helpful man away and breaking into a drunken attempt at running.
The man watched on as she took eight shaky steps before she crashed to the pavement again.
“It’s just a police helicopter you daft drunk!” he shouted.
April 2024
The lights flickered as the man sat at the table eating his evening meal and his dog howled....
One more day
by Kamran Connelly
The lights flickered as the man sat at the table eating his evening meal and his dog howled, a long sorrow filled note. He shouted through the door towards the porch. “Butch. Shut up! I told ya, I’m doing it.”
Butch howled again, shifting his eyes from his human at the table, to the noose hanging from the large wooden arch above him.
“I mean it, I’m doing it this time. You can’t talk me out of it.”
Butch woofed in rebuttal and harrumphed in a series of small grunts to himself as he walked over to the table with an adamant stride and sat at the leg of his human. As he scraped the last bite of his poorly cooked steak through the remnants of his under cooked egg. Butch placed his paw on his knee and held a tilted head towards him.
“Here,” he tut-ted, feeding butch the last bite.
“Ok,” he said, “I’ll give you one more day - but tomorrow. Tomorrow I’m gonna do it, I swear it,” he said for the seventy-second consecutive day in a row.
Butch circled on the spot, curling into a content ball at his human’s feet.
And the lights flickered again.
Lundup knew
by Leela Gautam
(An occurrence based in Kathmandu on April 25, 2015, the day the earthquake hit the city.)
The lights flickered as the man sat eating his evening meal and his dog howled.
"Shush Lundup," said the man, giving the dog a pat.
The howling stopped for a moment, then got louder. Lundup tugged at the leash from under his master’s foot. People at other tables turned to glower at them.
"Shouldn’t allow dogs in here," one muttered.
The man turned to apologise, dropped his spoon and rose.
"What is it Lundup? Do you want a wee? Come on then."
As he picked up his white stick and the leash the whole place trembled and shook. The lights went out. By the time they reached the exit, plates crashed to the floor, chairs tumbled. People screamed.
"Buechalo ahyo (earthquake has come)," shouted a waiter in Nepali.
There was bedlam. Everyone tried to rush out, some falling over chairs and tables dispersed around the room.
Meanwhile, Lundup had led his master safely out of the building.
The tremors worsened as people hurried to the open ground. A building collapsed nearby. People clung to each other crying. The man hugged his dog. Lundup had felt the earthquake before it hit. He had howled to save his partially sighted master.
Man's Best Friend
by Donna Turner
The lights flickered as the man sat at the table eating his evening meal and his dog howled.
“We’ll have to put twenty pence in the meter,” he joked to his companion.
The joke was he didn’t have twenty pence, not until payday at least. He laid his plate of unfinished food down in front of the dog, “Can’t have you going hungry now can we?”
The man got up from the table and, ignoring the steadily increasing pile of washing up, walked through to the living room. He headed for his favourite spot, the wingback armchair that once belonged to his mother, a bit lacklustre in colour and plumpness but still comfy nonetheless.
Now his best friend had a full belly and was once again snuggled by his feet, the man switched on the TV.
“Should be just enough time to watch the news before the electricity goes off,” he told the dozing dog.
They sat there together in perfect silence listening to the troubles from around the world, and just before the weather report had finished, the electricity went off.
“Nevermind old boy, at least we’ve got each other. That's more than some of those poor souls.”
by Mike Davis
The lights flickered as the man sat at the table eating his evening meal and his dog sat at his feet, howling, chops salivating, and eyeing the platter for a morsel. He’d found the stray on his previous trip to the cabin. In the valley where the Greyhound dropped him and his backpack, he’d spotted the dog muzzle-deep in a jettisoned fried chicken tub.
‘What you got there, Fella?’
The dog ignored him, which he considered entirely understandable since the tub was printed with Maisie’s Fried Chicken Ranch in red cursive. Wasn’t it obvious? The dog double-licked the tub pristine and trailed him across town, following along the track through the woods, keeping a polite four-foot gap until they reached the cabin.
Fella had been his companion ever since. That was until the bulb dangling above the table fizzed and popped. He ceased whining while the man felt his way out to the porch and lit up the storm lantern, stretching his arm out in front, illuminating the table.
Fella bolted through the open door into the darkness; the last rib clenched in his jaws. The man shrugged and refrained from yelling. A hungry dog without hope knows no loyalty.
