Katharine Widdows

“Five Stages of Reflection” by Katharine Widdows

AUTHORS NOTE - THIS IS WORK IN PROGRESS - ANY COMMENTS / SUGGESTIONS MUCH APPRECIATED - HOPING TO GET IT CONTEST READYDENIAL“I’m so sorry. I didn’t think ahead. I didn’t ever expect this. And it’ll be wrong anyway – I’ll read it again in a minute, it’ll be wrong.”Bold, blue eyes glare back at me as I sigh before them. Will they accept anything I say?“No. I don’t suppose you ever thought about me, not me right now, decades down the line.”Decades. Entire decades. How can something I did so long ago possibly have an effect this serious now? It ...

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“Gloves” by Katharine Widdows

Trigger warning - murder.The embalming process is surprisingly pleasant when you’re on the receiving end. With the prerequisite that you are, actually, dead first. The cool fluid injected into my circulatory system flushed my cheeks and much improved my mood. It also reassured me that my loved ones would not be staring at a decomposing mess when they came to view me before the funeral, which I knew they would.The serene voice that has been speaking to me on and off since I died has gone a long way to calm my nerves. It informs me that I have...

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“Cold To The Touch” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #273

TRIGGER WARNING: StalkerWe both drove up the coast last night, walked barefoot on the beach as the sun set. You let Jasper chase a stick in the sea foam, then run along the sand as the sky streaked orange. Strictly speaking, dogs are not allowed on the beach, but you always bend the rules. I’m not the only person who knows this. Your Insta followers are well aware of what you let your Doberman get up to. But then you have him well trained from what I see.I checked your likes at dawn, a little lower than usual. And they’ll miss the details I ...

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“Today They Scatter My Ashes” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #272

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Mental Health Issues (Schizophrenia) and suicide.The world stopped making sense on a broken Monday morning. The leaves still fell and crunched under my booted feet, the wind still whistled through the oaks and ruffled my too-long hair, and a chill still rattled my teeth and bit my fingers. It wasn’t those things, not those things at all.I had forgotten my gloves and hat, left my scarf on the back of my chair and taken a fiver from the jar on the dresser. It wasn’t mine to take, but my wallet was empty and my craving for pum...

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“Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed, Say I Do” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #264

I’m not a Catholic, but something about flickering votives and stained glass always makes me want to confess. Even if I only do it internally. Scarlet, cobalt, and emerald shards, cast down from the windows pull admissions from the darkest parts of me, as they scatter over the stone floor and ancient pews. Organ music swells between rows of our beloved guests, oiling the path of my thoughts.First confession: It’s not my first time. Isaac thinks it is. Not because I lied, not this time. More because he assumed, and I chose not to correct him....

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“Needs Must When The Devil Drives” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #262

My cheap shades are no match for the low afternoon sun glaring off the lake. I still have to squint through my tears if I look across to the opposite bank. Sweat beads gather below my ponytail and run down my spine as if I’m exerting myself, but the physical work is done. I’m resting now, for as long as I dare. Bruised arms aching, hot breath catching. Cool beer soothes my croaky throat under the shelter of a weeping willow. I could not have done this sober.My broken nails snag as I fan myself with the dishevelled ordnance survey map. Best n...

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“Snap, Snap, Flash!” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #258

Snap, snap, flash! The light from Megan's camera bounced off the blood splattered wall of the tiny apartment. It caught in the eyes of Detective Inspector Walsh as he strode in to the dimly lit living room.“Bit of a mess in here. Let's see how far we've got.” Walsh blinked a few times and tucked a few stray black hairs back under the hood of his crime scene suit. He rubbed his stubble with a gloved hand as he observed his petite new colleague crouching over the spot where a man's head should have been. She looked up at Walsh with an arrestin...

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“Murderer Monthly: Grim Gossip” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #254

The word on the street is that the West End Ripper, TheatreLand Thom, has lost his edge and turned to dealing stolen props and costumes behind the Oasis open-air swimming pool. Local prostitutes are deeply relieved. So, it would seem, is the ripper – the stench of chlorine is horrendous. Nearby residents say they have taken to wearing face masks or covering their mouths and noses with handkerchiefs when in the area. This has, of course, led to an increase in shop lifting and hold ups of convenience stores, since it is now difficult to identi...

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“Supernova Kiss” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #253

I've hit the self-destruct button. I did it as soon as I knew the triclops were on board. Tiny tourist vessels don't come with escape pods, so I've also overridden the alarm system – no point ruining an otherwise perfect wedding night. . .Susan had always wanted to sit amongst the heavens and stare into their infinite glory. The gleaming white Aspect 5, with its Michelin starred robochef, panoramic viewing room, and luxury sleeping quarters is the perfect vehicle to enable a long weekend of just that: the ideal surprise honeymoon.Our wedding...

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“Reading Between The Lines. . .” by Katharine Widdows

TRIGGER WARNING - StalkerYou wrote a poem for me once. I kept it – its beautiful rhymes and delicate imagery are imprinted in my mind. Those words are mine now, mine to read back to myself in your voice. Mine to print multiple copies of and stick them around my house. That exact combination of words does not exist anywhere else on the planet – outside of my poem. Do you know how special that is? I do.You’ve always been a writer, even when you worked in admin, even when you didn’t. When you did, I shared your office, breathed your air, caught...

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“The Temptation of Laura Marsh” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #251

If temptation is the work of the devil, then why are the houses of God so full of it? It’s been five years since my baptism, and I’ve been thrown out of more cathedrals than I’ve been into confessionals. They have all these closed velvet curtains and little rope barriers between silver posts. They even have doors marked “Private”. How are you supposed to resist that? It’s like putting a big red button up with a sign that says: “Do not press”.My investigations started locally, with St. Peter’s – very apt since he’s the keeper of the keys, rig...

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“In The Hotseat” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #249

“Car. Drive to the Webster Offices on Hillmore Street,” Graham Findel barked from the optional driving position in his shiny new Autodrive Hotseat.“Yes, Mr Findel. Webster Offices on Hillmore Street,” came the electronic voice. “You will reach your destination at 8.45am, assuming no unexpected events.”“8.45? 8.45? That’s fifteen minutes late! Car! Switch to manual.”“Yes, Mr Findel. Switching to manual.”The LED displays brightened, and the rectangular steering bar unlocked from its hub with a click, neatly unfolding from the bottom of the das...

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“Paradise Lost” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #248

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Abuse, violence, mental health issues. There used to be doves in the sky. Gliding, white-feathered, across blue expanses. They swirled in the air below billowing clouds. I could only follow with my eyes but follow I did, soaring alongside them. They lifted me, raising my spirits with each swift wing beat. I found inspiration in every soft coo. I fed them on the balcony of my lake house in the summer, offering seeds and scraps. I breathed in the freedom they represented, hoping it would energise me. My heaven was a quiet we...

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“Safe and Sound Safe and Sound” by Katharine Widdows

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #244

Trigger warning - psychological abuse.7.15am - go downstairs. Phone fully charged, remove cable. Stare at phone wallpaper – not familiar – photo of huge oak in West Park at end of my street – where Rich proposed. Maybe took it yesterday – maybe not. Not sure. Stare more. Check for messages. Mum, Sarah, Rich. Rich? Not heard from him in ages. Is he ok? Oh, he’s replying to me. I didn’t message him. I must have, yes, look. Asked if he had a good weekend, sent 23.03 yesterday. Was in bed by 10. Must have got up - come downstairs - forgotten. Sl...

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“Our Bones Are In The Inglenook” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #240

TRIGGER WARNINGS - MURDER AND SUICIDE.Emma brushed damp hair from her face and tucked it behind her ears again, but within moments it was back, whipping her eyes and sneaking blonde curls into the corners of her dry mouth. It was pointless to try to stay tidy, or even comfortable, in this weather. She thrust her hands back into the deep pockets of her wax jacket and dragged her green wellies through the muddy puddles on the dirt track. The farm couldn’t be much further now.Emma stopped for a moment and looked back at her Land Rover Defender....

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