Katharine Widdows

“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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“Kitchen. Knife.” by Katharine Widdows

The crack of Carl’s head against the corner of the dining table was enough to make Julian take a sharp breath. Had he chipped the varnish? Maybe it was time to get rid of the hand-me-down, anyway. Susan had always detested the ‘monstrosity’ that only just fitted in the room.Carl grabbed at Julian’s legs, trying to unbalance him. Julian stood firm and casually looked around the room for something heavy. The hideous orange vase Susan’s mother had given them at Christmas would be perfect. He reached over to the outdated mantel piece and grabbed...

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“Perfectly Almond-Shaped Eyes” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #117

TW – animal cruelty, death.Everything was ready for the ritual. I had counted down the days, or more precisely, the nights - since I turned eleven.Looking out over Delltree town, I stood back a little from the sandstone cliff. Holding my torch in one hand, I pulled newspaper and twigs from my rucksack. I roughly fashioned the base of a small fire behind the concrete trig point, partially sheltered from the breeze. Larger sticks and bits of branch from the tree line behind completed my construction.Unpacking the ornate wooden boxes from my ru...

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“Sit and Stare” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #116

Trigger Warning: grief, regret, death, disfigurement.The sun is drawing away, slowly at first, like an evening steam train. It takes the daylight with it and leaves my room in semi-shadow.‘Your mum, she left these for you, to open on your sixteenth birthday. I don’t know what they are, I promised I wouldn’t look. I never have.’I sit and stare at the white envelope and the red velvet box that Dad has placed before me on the dressing table. They lie in front of the mirror I covered eight years ago, half a lifetime back. A blue silk scarf is dr...

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“Slutty Red Bikini” by Katharine Widdows

TW - Mental health issuesI scroll through my feed with a shaking finger, temples throbbing, until my fear rolls onto the screen. Hand clenched around my phone, scalp prickling. I knew it would be there, but the bile rises in my throat all the same. Patrick has liked another one of her pictures!I cough to prevent myself from heaving. She’s on the golden beach at Glenston, in a tiny red bikini, looking like a slut. She's licking an ice cream as big as her head. Her pose is intentionally provocative. I bet he’d like to be that ice cream. I bet ...

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“My Dreams - Your Nightmares” by Katharine Widdows

TW - horror sequencesThe curling leaves of the twisted oak scraped Emma’s window. Rain lashed the glass and the low rumble of thunder rolled over the sky. Lightning split the night and reflected in her gleaming teenage eyes. It was glorious. Her grandfather's funeral was almost forgotten.‘It’s ok Ben, it’s ok.’ Soothing tones drifted through from the next room. ‘Shhh, it’s just bad weather, that’s all.’Was it the ‘bad’ weather or the dead Grandad? Difficult to tell with a six-year-old. Emma’s money was on Death. Though she had never und...

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“Between the Black and White” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #112

TW - themes of grief / loss.The wipers aren’t enough. Water gushes over the windscreen in waves as unrelenting as my grief. But, unlike my grief, it is swept away in measured, sideways beats. The streetlights are blurry starbursts in my struggling vision. I steady my right foot on the accelerator and my left hand on the wheel.Black cloud hangs with menaces above, banishing celestial light from view. The bottle in my other hand is difficult to drink from without banging my teeth, even at this low speed. But the bourbon tastes like freedom as ...

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“The Mother Goose Murders” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #111

TW: murder, injury.The coffee was going cold in his hands but the conversation around him was starting to warm. Mr Williams shook the wide, white, frill of his cuff as it escaped the edge of his black legal robes. He lifted a brown cup to his lips, drained the final, lukewarm dregs and looked up.Mr George was pushing his way through the coffee house door, removing his hat to reveal his neatly tied-back hair. The bright yellow thread detail, contrasted against the dark green of his tail coat and caught the candle light. He must have left his ...

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“Danny and the Tin Snail” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #110

I love my tin snail. 29 horsepower, full length roll back sunroof, four gears, fun suspension. She may date back to 1971 but the front inboard mounted brakes are the same technology used in formula one cars. I have to say, I feel more like a rally driver as I throw her round the corners.Speaking of corners, there’s a guy with his thumb up at the bend, heading out of Talby.I’d love the company, I wonder if he’ll accept a lift from a 2CV? Some consider these old Citroens unsafe but, with their built-in crumple zones, almost vertical steering s...

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“Fired!” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #109

Blazing jets of dragon’s breath blasted through the coffin-shaped box, melting Staleem’s amulet onto his forearm. A wave of exhaustion passed through his tortured body as his magic drained away into the flames, leaving him semi-conscious and only semi-breathing. The harsh stench of his burning hair, combined with the green smoke from his weathercloth gowns, filled the Punishment Room. The sickly concoction wound its way around the corners of dozens of torture and correctional implements, and hung in the air between them, thickening the atmos...

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“A Kind of Magic” by Katharine Widdows

‘Is this your card?’ Jane gave a flourish of her wrinkled hands and flashed her famous stage-show smile. At 9 years old, Caspar fully understood that his card was trapped under the plaster of Paris paperweight he’d made for his mother and could not possibly be…. Ah, it was, right there in Grandma’s fingers, the six of hearts. ‘How do you do it Gran? Every time!’ ‘It’s magic, and a magician never, ever, reveals her secrets.’ Jane replaced the worn card back in the damaged pack and fiddled with her flattening silver curls. ‘You always...

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“Peterson?” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #105

June 29th I edged back down the alleyway behind the yards of the Forber Street houses and rounded the corner. Once the body was out of sight I bent double and retched, eyes streaming, stomach turning. After a few deep breaths I found my radio. ‘Yankee Mike Three, Yankee Mike Three, this is Yankee Mike Eight. Over.’ ‘Yankee Mike Three, go ahead. Over.’ ‘Assistance needed, unidentified body behind Forber Street. Over.’ Within minutes the alleyway was cordoned off and Forensics were on the way. We started a door-to-door but apart from t...

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“Open Invitation” by Katharine Widdows

Submitted to Contest #104

        Bernice stared out of Lyra’s bay window trying to ignore the hints of peeling paint and fading curtains. At least her own house wasn’t letting the side down, and the knowledge that it set a good example to the rest of the street was a comfort to her. Despite her best efforts to avoid the subject Bernice felt her gaze continually drawn to number 12 where there had been no sign of life all morning.‘Well, you know I’m not one to judge, but the new neighbours are a bit… unusual.’ Bernice shook her ...

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