Katharine Widdows

“Cash Cow” by Katharine Widdows

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #155

TW - death.The front door swung open and Barbara cooed through it. Of course, I would help with the effing shopping. I wouldn’t mind at all if my lovely wife would ever buy own brand anything. But, in spite of prices creeping up, Barbara was still bringing home the Heinz, the Lurpak, the Kellogg’s. And way more than the two of us could ever eat in seven days. We were throwing out enough to feed the children we never had, on a weekly basis. But then, we, or should I say she, could afford it.“Do you want the good news or the bad news, Darling?...

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“Blawan” by Katharine Widdows

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #154

The raised bands and gold leaf of the worn spines, stood to attention in rows of mismatched heights and colours, on antique, wooden shelving. Coloured headbands, only visible if you peered over the spines, protected ancient text blocks, bound by dextrous hands generations ago. Delicate pages concealed within, played host to a plethora of type-set prints, pen and ink lettering, and hand painted illuminations. Every wall, floor to ceiling, in the L-shaped shop, displayed its share of literary beauty.Bethan breathed in the beloved leather and d...

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“Dying Breath” by Katharine Widdows

The air in the royal bed chamber was heavy with incense as Prince Kaymal and Princess Saiber entered. Damask curtains blocked out the sinking sun, forcing their eyes to adjust to the dimness.The candlelight caught the glinting edge of something square, as the elderly priest removed it from under the king’s pillow. He then closed his master’s eyes for the final time.“I’m sorry, Your Highness, you are but a moment too late. I heard his last rites, and your father went quietly. I will leave you to pray.” The priest backed out of the room with a...

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“Finish What You Started” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #149

I find myself on a cliff edge, it will only take a little more to push me over.I push.The razor is sharp enough to slice with little effort, and the pain reminds me of both what I deserve, and what I am leaving behind. I have enough strength to cut, just. If I still have that power then I’m not over the cliff quite yet.I need to try again.. . .I come round in a sitting position. Muted colours, beige, and greying-yellow swirl around me. Taken aback that there is anything here at all, I put my hands on solid ground to get my bearings. Dusty, d...

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“Beers, Wines and Spirits” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #148

Jim’s Room. . .The Carlsberg frothed like sea foam along the green carpet until it hit an invisible boundary, stopped dead, and soaked into the fibres. The tell-tale patch on the floor darkened as Jim grabbed at a box of tissues just out of reach on the cabinet.“Bugger,” he said, wiping his hands on his jeans.“Was that the last one?” asked Claire, still sipping from her can, feet dangling over the side of her flatmate’s bed.“Last one?” Jim laughed. “There's a case of 18 under there. You’ll get the hang of it, Matie.”He shuffled his bum acros...

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“Like Father, Like Son, Like Son, Like Son.” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #145

T/W - death, animal hunting and implied racism._____________My father died today.But I won’t remember a faded man in a hospital bed rasping for breath. Not if it can be avoided. As my Range Rover crunches through the rain-showered gravel of his drive, my mind crunches through my favourite memories of him coming home. That sound will always mean one thing to me – that he is alive and has returned. Though it can never be true again, it can always be a comfort.I swing open the split, stable-style door. The man never rode a horse in his life, bu...

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“Library of Lives” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #142

“Collecting for the library! Collecting for the library!” shouted Gretham as the shire horses rounded the corner into the biggest slum in Pannegul. “Come on, don’t be shy, any story or talent accepted. Collecting for the library! Human books wanted!”Gretham lifted his scarf over his mouth and nose, but rotting market vegetables and rancid animal dung seeped through the fabric. His ears were assaulted by the chatter, the dogs barking, the slopping mud and the clanging of makeshift, metal doors.A small boy approached the cart with his hands he...

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“Knowledge is Power” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #142

Knowledge is power. Power corrupts. First, they will come for the Library.“Stand down Librarian!” Shouted the Commander.“Power corrupts! Power corrupts! Power corrupts!” came the raucous chant of the purple-clad troops behind him.16-year-old Cambermel spread her huge, feathered wings. They shone blue-green where the sun hit their iridescent blackness. She presented her spear in both hands, defiant and rebellious.“Stand down!”Cambermel’s wings stretched from pillar to pillar at the top of the white marble steps, concealing the arched Library ...

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“No Returns Policy” by Katharine Widdows

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #141

Buyer's Bazaar Message Screen:RE: Listing B34781 - Silver box with sun and moon detailBoxMaster360'I'm not taking it back. I said no returns. Check my shop policy. Check the listing.' Clive_London'The description left key information out. You mis-sold the box to me.'BoxMaster360'The listing was accurate. Every detail was correct.'Clive_London'The listing failed to mention what I would see in the mirror. I think that's quite an important detail to overlook.'BoxMaster360'I don't know what you mean. There's nothing wrong with the mirror.'Clive_...

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“When The Thunder Started” by Katharine Widdows

A two-toned brogue stuck out into the aisle as we pulled away from King's Cross at 21.33. My late grandfather had worn those shoes, just not in funky green and tan.‘I am sorry, I think I trod on your foot.’ It wasn’t entirely on purpose.‘No problem, I’m made o' stern stuff.’ He rubbed his knuckles on his lapel and made a show of blowing on his fingernails. A welcoming smile escaped his full, red lips, betraying his attempt to look cool.‘Stern, eh? You strike me as rather approachable.’ I offered a shrug and a cheeky grin.‘James.’ He said. ‘G...

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“Eye Spy” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #134

Pete’s feet stuttered through the shop doorway. His hands arced out and caught the corner of the wooden counter before gravity could floor him. Shoulders stiff, head turned away from danger, his knees bent and narrowly missed banging the floor. The stocky pawnbroker in front of him erupted into raucous laughter, one hand over his mouth, the other on his hip.‘Oh, Sir,’ said the infuriating man between giggles. ‘You’re the third one today to trip over that. ‘ere, let me take it up before someone sues me.’ He reached out a chubby hand. Still be...

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“Tall As A Cart'orse And Twice As Long!” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #133

TRIGGER WARNING: themes of grief and loss.Tom found opening his eulogy a lot harder than his pallbearing duties. Carrying the coffin was a bit surreal. It didn’t feel like Grandad Bill in there; it was just a box. A heavy box. But talking to the small crowd of mourners, when he was one himself, brought home the reality of the situation.Tom's mind wandered to his poor Grandma Ursula, as he collected his thoughts in the pulpit. The family had never had much money and he worried that care would be difficult as she grew frail.He’d written down w...

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“The Gift Master” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #130

TRIGGER WARNING: Animal cruelty.‘Welcome, welcome. Leave your bag at the door. Don’t be shy. Come on in.’ The Gift Master fiddled with his gunslinger moustache. ‘Every guess is a good guess, and the right guess buys your freedom. Do you need me to tell you the rules?’ He towered above Anna, muscular form filling his tailored black suit.‘Yes Sir, yes please.’ Anna brushed tendrils of greasy hair behind her waxy ears.‘Your token, please.’Anna Bunn reached into the pocket of her threadbare tunic, grubby fingers grazing past the hole developing ...

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“The Locked Door” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #130

Mysteries had been presenting themselves to me since I was a child. So, I was hardly surprised when I found one in Mrs Pardon’s attic. And I didn’t intend to attempt solving this one either. The door to my imagination was firmly locked.‘Just bring down my old globe, no need to bother with anything else, Love.’ She’d croaked from her wheelchair as she fingered the black and white picture of her long-lost love. ‘Harry used to tell me about all the places he’d been. You know, in the army and such. Maybe it’ll jog my memory.’I got up from the ki...

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“I See Bad People” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #127

ADDITIONAL TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDESilence fell as Professor Gale Henshaw stepped onto the stage of the auditorium. With her sharp business suit and severe, asymmetrical hair cut she commanded the space. All 80 hopefuls stopped fiddling with their intelli-pens. With an average pass rate of only 10%, the 8-week course would weed out 72 audience members by the last day. There was little point in getting to know your neighbour here.‘Welcome All.’ Professor Henshaw, President of the Agency, needed no introduction. She gestured around the lecture...

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