Damien Roberts

“All Roads Lead to London” by Damien Roberts

Submitted to Contest #249

"I-I'm sorry," Billy stuttered, “I seem to be lost.” "Don't worry,” Shane smiled. "I know where we are. You're going exactly where you're supposed to." Billy risked taking his eyes off the road for a second to sneak a glance at Shane. He was shorter than Billy, with a jet-black buzz cut, weathered skin and a fine, slightly shiny suit. Strange for a hitchhiker, he thought. It was strange that Billy had picked up a hitchhiker. "I don't know how I got lost heading to London," Billy said, “I swear every road in England has signs to London.” "Aye...

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“InfluX” by Damien Roberts

Submitted to Contest #248

This was it. Derren had found the perfect remedy. Infusion Vector 341. No, he thought, this isn't attempt 341, this is success number 1. It needs its own name, like Booster or Velocity or InfluX. Yes, InfluX, that sounds right. It felt modern. He could see influencers holding the bright green packaging to their filtered face at the start of one of those absurd unpacking videos. Get the right donor and, with InfluX, you won't need a filter. You see, InfluX on its own did absolutely nothing. Maybe you could use it as an expensive saline soluti...

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“Eutopia ” by Damien Roberts

August 10ᵗʰ 2134Finally, good news from research! They have established a deep sea flight path for the Eutopia to the ocean floor. I honestly never thought it could happen, but those clever buggers did it. Now, it's just up to engineering to get the vessel up to scratch... Why did I have to agree to be Chief Engineering Officer? October 7ᵗʰ 2134 That damn Striker. That god-damned ignorant self-serving idiot. Captain for a year and he thinks he doesn't need to check with Engineering before announcing to the world that Engineering is going to ...

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“Two Seconds” by Damien Roberts

Submitted to Contest #110

"We have plenty of time." "Time isn't the problem." "It never is." The world hung silent around them, Agents Aleph-6 and -14. Between them, an upturned manhole cover held a tangle of multicoloured cables around a digital display on a steel case. Aleph-14 blocked the light from the street lights, but the beams of a black London cab struck the device from just a few car lengths away, casting a web of shadows through the cables and over the road beyond. A confused crowd watched silently around them. Although the agents shared thoughts a...

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“Trump Tower” by Damien Roberts

Submitted to Contest #74

Did you know, Trump Tower is 58 stories high? I checked on the way here. I probably should have been thinking about John but the father of a young child, divorced and loss of both parents to the pandemic is pretty textbook. Political activism was a fun twist. I did look forward to using that to talk him down. I think it would have worked, but seeing as I've barely opened my car door and he's already ten stories from the roof, I guess we'll never know. I'm pretty good at my job, you know? I've talked over two dozen people down from a, somet...

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“The Ghostwriter” by Damien Roberts

Submitted to Contest #64

I was woken by a sharp crack, a flood of green light and confused scream. “Julio!“ the man's voice resonated in what I realised was a very small chamber, causing my ears to ache. My head didn’t feel right, like my brain could fall out if I moved my head too fast. The yelling made it worse and I shut my eyes to stop my brain leaking through the sockets. The man heard himself and bought his voice down to a firm, but quieter, accusatory tone. “Why the hell… How the hell… What are you doing here?”I cautiously opened my eyes. Feeling like my...

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“Fair Trade” by Damien Roberts

Submitted to Contest #63

David lent against his favourite tree in the middle of his orchard. It sat on a small hill, from which he liked to survey his young empire. With the little time he had left, David climbed the hill every day with a woven basket and spent the afternoon picking apples, starting at his favourite tree. It felt like a natural way for his life to end and it contented him. He figured that content was the best he could hope for.  When he bought the land ten years ago, it was the first tree he planted. He’d been apple picking with his daughter ...

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“Desmond and Maya” by Damien Roberts

Submitted to Contest #62

Applications take me back to my time as a student. What I knew then was barely a thread in the tapestry of knowledge I have now, but I excelled at creative reasoning. Lecturers scolded me when I couldn't answer their questions and it was rare for me to be near the top of my class in exams but, at my graduation lunch, I caught the world-renowned Professor Dawson and asked him for a position in his research team. He accepted my request, conditional on me solving a simple problem. Of course, the problem was simple to state but, in its solution,...

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“The Yo-Yo” by Damien Roberts

Submitted to Contest #61

“This,” Derren threw a hand toward an ornate wooden yo-yo in a bowl of keys, “is my inheritance.” Maria paused, one mahogany leather boot dangling in her gold-choked fingers. “A yo-yo?” A cackle leapt out of her as if the situation had slapped her in the back of the head. “Your millionaire old vampire of a mother left her only child, a yo-yo? What did she do with the rest? Leave it with the cat sanctuary?” Another cackle forced its way out, this time a really guttural howl.  “The Parrot Zoo Trust, actually,” said Derren slowly so th...

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“Jessica” by Damien Roberts

Submitted to Contest #55

“Can you keep a secret?” Jessica whispered. Her breath tickled Harrison’s and warmed his cheek. He lost his place on the page that trembled in his hand. “Harry?” She said. “Yes,” his voice was stiff. He fought the desire to look at her, he didn't want her to see how red he was. "Can you keep a secret?" She whispered. "Oh. Yes. I meant, yes I can keep a secret." Harry felt a little excitement rising. He'd dreamt of Jessica whispering in his ear. The school library wasn't his place of choice, but he could easily forget where he was w...

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“The Bible Basher” by Damien Roberts

Submitted to Contest #54

Being the Lead Psychologist on the chart-topping 'Second Chances' put my name and number in the address book of every journalist on this half of the globe. I liked it, really. I could nudge the narrative. The return of the death penalty really marked an all-time low in British empathy and I hoped my influence might go some way in reversing that. The producers didn't like what I was doing, of course. They wanted people to be detached from the reality of what was happening. While the viewers were entertained the broadcasters got their paycheck...

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