Katharine Widdows

“This Year. . .” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #231

1997This year will be a spectacular success to be celebrated in decades to come - it will form the solid, reliable bedrock of my wholesome future. I resolve to achieve a first-class average grade, to set me up for a first-class honours degree in three years time. I don't think I did too well last semester so I will aim for 80% this semester to improve my marks. To achieve this, I will not drink any alcohol for the next six months. I will attend 100% of my lectures and get up at 5am to prepare for them. I will type up all of my lecture notes ...

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“Support Group” by Katharine Widdows

AUTHOR'S NOTE - this is a pretty rough first draft - just sticking it here as a place holder to come to for some heavy editing. For a start, I think Eloise needs 2 pouches to start with to make the ending work. If you are reading it at this stage any comments and suggestions for improvement would be much appreciated.Does it fit the prompt?Is it clear what has happened to Eloise at the end?Is the context stuff about the plague working? Anything else?Thanks!Eloise creaked open the back door of the abandoned church hall and brushed tepid water ...

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“Winners Club International” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #212

The letter box clangs, and I abandon the most important meal of the day to investigate the post. Lifting four envelopes from the hallway carpet, I shuffle them square with each other and return to the breakfast bar.Bank statement. Check. Mailshot from Greenpeace. Check. Pre-election propaganda from the local independent candidate. Check. Good News From Winners Club International. What? Who is R. Thompson? Rachel? Richard? Did they live here before me? What have they won?The toaster pops as I pour fresh orange juice into my favourite glass. T...

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“She Always Wore Blue” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #209

The elegant black hearse pulled slowly away from 53 Bellamy Street, leading the cortege comprised of just it and one other car. Hetty’s ecofriendly, bamboo coffin, covered with garlands of cornflowers, irises and buddleia in beautiful hues ranging from sky to midnight, could be seen from the back of the second vehicle.“Do you think we’re doing this right?” Stella gently placed one hand on the shoulder of her daughter’s smart, black suit and the other on the cream leather of the seat.“I don’t know Mum, but it’s the best we could manage,” said...

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“The Limelight” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #207

Trigger warning - deathYork, England, 1928The drumroll started at exactly 9.50pm, the background lights dimmed, and a spotlight pinpointed Alice’s sparkling red tunic. She balanced on a shining platform at one end of a tightrope, fifteen feet above stage left. The audience fell into silence for the final act. Theo McAlister stepped forward out of the wings stage right. The trademark sequins on the lapels of his black tailcoat caught the low lights in a shimmer. A second spotlight focused on him. He removed his top hat and took a deep bow.The...

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“Shadow Self” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #206

Arthur Drake coughed a breath of acrid smoke from his lungs and took a few steps backwards, away from the heat and the stench and the shrieking. His stomach churned with bile and his eyes filled with tears. Tension dragged its way through his muscles, pulling his ribs tight around his lungs and his shoulders high up to his jaw. Might this happen to him one day?The jostling crowd shuffled backwards with him, expanding their circle away from the pyre as a wave of searing heat emanated from the burning wood. Evelyn Crow’s piercing screams scorc...

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“The Virgin Wakes” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #205

We giggled as we ran through the gothic arch of the main doors and down the stone steps to the street. The shadow of the belfry momentarily shaded our eyes from the glare of the sinking sun. The golden rings adding new weight to our freshly encircled fingers would have glinted in the light if we hadn’t been holding hands so tightly.No confetti. No speeches. No first dance – at least not one that anyone else would watch. My dress was long and white, yes, but it had cost £30 off the rack and had barely a frill. We didn’t need frills, just each...

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“Life's Not Fair” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #204

Friday: Scott let the silver dragon knocker fall against its polished strike plate for the third time. He shivered in the rain until the grand, black door of number 36 Oak Street swung open.“Come in, come in, you moron! Why didn’t you use your key? You’re soaking!”“I wasn’t sure if you were home. Didn’t want to just barge in.”“Let me take that coat. Go through to the study. I’m set up in there with Jack and coke. I’ve been writing again.”Ella hung up Scott’s dripping jacket and strode off down the hall towards the kitchen. Scott pulled off h...

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“Three Questions” by Katharine Widdows

🏆 Winner of Contest #200

“Right, you stinking mutt, into your cell and keep quiet.” The gaoler manhandled Edmond Barker into a cold, damp room then clanged an iron-barred gate behind him and turned a key in the lock. His rancid beer breath rattled in Edmond’s nose. “Now both of you listen up! The man in the cell next to you could be your saviour or your downfall. The secret to your release is somewhere in the cell next to yours, so only your companion can find it. High tide is in one hour and will completely fill both your cells. Be out or be drowned.”“Hey! You next...

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“Sawbones” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #187

REWARD FOR MISSING SHIP’S CATBLACK AND WHITE - ANCHOR ON COLLARRETURN HIM TO THE SUZANNA BY SUNDOWN ON ST DAVID'S DAY AND BE PAID IN GOLD!Jimmy curled his fingers round the corner of the brewery wall and his smudged face followed, wide eyes peering into the uneven alleyway behind. Hops and barley overpowered the faint scent of herring this far from the water and Jimmy breathed a little easier.There he was. Black and white, pewter anchor on his collar. The two-toned cat stood out against the red brick building as he stopped to lick his paw an...

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“Dead Cert.” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #180

Billy Blue Heart can’t lose, not this time, grand old nag. I say nag, he’s a chestnut four year old with clean legs and near perfect thoroughbred conformation. He’s also got the best jockey of the decade on his back and 200 quid of my hard-earned cash in an each-way bet on his 3 o’clock at Kempton.But just to be sure. . .“Alright Charlie, lager top and a packet o’ pork scratchin’s?” I shout over the crowd to the corner table.“You know it.” Charlie winks at me and flashes that gold tooth he knows I’m here for.Big Roy, the landlord, meets my e...

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“The Long Way Home” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #171

TRIGGER WARNING - CHILD ABUSE - ALCOHOLISM Custody battles are hard, especially when you have no armour.Each fortnight I’d turn up on time, But be rewarded with more grief,These details the courts ignore,As they eat away my self-belief,“You should have called this morning.” Graham doesn’t ask me in.“I called last night and confirmed. You know this is my weekend.” Rain bounces off the driveway and up the backs of my jeans.“You should have called this morning.” He crosses his arms on the doorstep and fake-shivers.“You make it impossible by cha...

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“Fresh Meat” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #170

“I gotta plan." Sy pulled something out of the duffle bag on the ground.Joe sighed. “It wants to be better than the last one.”Brittle wood splintered in the torchlight as Simon ‘Sy the Scythe' Eldridge forced his crowbar underneath the window boards and levered them away from the frame, one by one. A gap, big enough for Sy to squeeze through, was soon inviting the gang into the abandoned church.“Hey, Fingers! You'll get through that right?” Sy pointed at the hole in the building’s defences.“I will,” said Joe ‘Fingers’ Finch, eyeing up Sy’s h...

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“N O T Y O U B I L L Y ” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #169

Billy jumped in his skin as the lightning flashed again, illuminating ground-level sculptures of books, hearts and hands, for less than a second. Metallic vases of long-dead flowers cast shadow-fingers against tombstones under the electrical burst.Claire swished her torch from headstone to mossy headstone, pulling her hood tighter round her oval face against the lashing rain. Escaping strands of mousey brown hair stuck to her cheeks like spidery legs, as she strode through the dark in her black, rubber wellies. She crunched along the gravel ...

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“My Goodness, My Guinness” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #168

In 1974, the year I emerged, blinking into the world, the Guinness Book of Records became the fastest selling copyrighted book. It gained its own entry in the Guinness Book of Records. It still holds that record now. Every year on my birthday I board a train and drink a can of Guinness, in honour of the day my grandpa died.. . .Wheels sing out a familiar rhythm as they click and clack over the tracks. I allow my head to nod along as I watch fields blur past through the safety glass. My mother has told me Grandpa’s story so many times that I ...

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