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Your fingers tensed around the object in your pocket, ready to pull it out at a moment's notice.

Posted in Science Fiction on Oct 26, 2022

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✍️ 44 stories

The Price of a Nice Guy

Winner of Contest #18 🏆

The worst part about a flat tire is the men. You'd think it would be the lug wrench. It's so cold that it hurts your fingers to touch it but if you don't hold on tight the lugs will never come off. It's gangly, like you, but it's got four long limbs and you're the shortest woman in your family. It's awkward to handle. Sometimes when your fingers slip you crack your knuckles against the metal and it hurts enough to make you curse aloud.  It's not the worst part though.  Neither is the rain. It soaks through your sweater and the Save...

106 likes 52 comments 52
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Caramel

Submitted to Contest #18

They say our instincts act in a split second.“Arrrrthhhuurrrr!” My head was ringing, my jaw clenched. It was a cold windy night, the alley not any kinder. I pulled my coat tighter around myself. My body was fighting the cold, but the fear coursing through seemed to warm it enough to make my clenched fists sweat. I wanted to put my hand into my pocket but knew that won’t do me any good at this point.“Arrrrthhhurrrr!”I kept seeing him out of the corner of my eyes, grinning, his eyes lit up like he’s happy right where he is. He looked bett...

11 likes 3 comments 3
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Timebomb

Submitted to Contest #18

NowThere were too many to fight. He was outnumbered ten thousand to one. He watched as they all raced towards him, vengeance in their eyes and murder on their lips. They came in a mob, clamouring for his blood, each wanting to say, “I helped kill him. I was part of it.”He stood perfectly still, hands in his pockets, not flinching or recoiling in the slightest. His hand brushed against the thing in his pocket, and his fingers clutched at it; ready, waiting.The throng thundered down on him, not knowing what was to come. He grinned. Even after ...

11 likes 4 comments 4
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On the use of slippers in hand-to-hand combat

Submitted to Contest #18

There’s an Egyptian dessert called Oum Ali which commemorates a murder. The story goes that Shajar al-Durr, widow of a 13th century sultan, could not be ruler of Egypt unless she married. So she found herself a total pushover of a husband named Izz al-Din Aybak who she thought would make a fine puppet sultan. He was already married, but that did not stop the ambitious sultana-to-be. She simply forbade him from seeing his first wife and his son Ali.The ruling couple did not exactly live happily ever after. The sultan missed his old family. Ev...

10 likes 3 comments 3
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Glimmers From a Gem by Christina Steele

Submitted to Contest #18

She kept a stone in her pocket. A black stone, cold to the touch, but it fit her palm as if moulded just for her. In times of indecision, she ran her thumb over the flat surface discerning the small crevices and bumps, angulations eyes could not see, but touch could memorise. Intuitively, the surface's rises and falls represented life’s journeys, the everyday ups-and-downs, and scars, and struggles. Touching was usually enough to soothe her worries, one large Zen bead, or single Rosary bead.  Occasionally, she needed to see the sto...

9 likes 2 comments 2
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The Fear of Loud Silence

Submitted to Contest #18

  It was freezing as I make my way to the bus stop, but that wasn’t the only reason I stuffed my hands in my pockets and kept them there. For the majority of my life, I thought I was severely shy. So shy to the point I’d be stuck in the moment and couldn’t speak. There were so many passing moments, I should have spoken up about something, but every time, my voice escapes me. So many things I should have done, but my body would become paralyzed with an unknown fear.Later in life, I found out&n...

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Unrest in Happiness Hills

Submitted to Contest #18

Your fingers tensed around the object in your pocket, ready to pull it out at a moment's notice. The others that passed you seemed to all be staring as if they knew what you held already.As if they could see through the seams of your leather coat, vintage and rough edged, dark brown and smelling of mold.Even though they seemed to stare they still smiled widely in your direction. You were making your way to the circle.The village always seems so joyful, the others are always this happy. They don’t even need holidays, though around this time t...

4 likes 2 comments 2
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All's fair in love and war

Submitted to Contest #18

Xander’s fingers tensed around the object in his hands, ready to pull it out in a moment’s notice. His eyes locked on his target, a small, freckled teen, fumbling around with laces on his boots.“My people won’t let you win. Not this time.” The former spoke, keeping his tone low and ominous. The small boy brought his gaze forward, eyes burning their way through the soul of the taller boy.“I wouldn’t be too sure about that, my friend.” He chuckled, menacingly. His lips turned up into a cruel smile, causing the tanned boy to take a step back, i...

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The Proposal

Submitted to Contest #18

It was in my pocket and I gripped it, ready to pull it out. Next to it was something I wanted very much to give away. That I should have done sooner but too late now. “Look, my friend. No one wants a fight today.” “You’re about to get one, you Spic bastard.” “Spic? Seriously? There's no need for that. Aren’t you Spanish yourself?” He looked it. Average height, tan skin, and black hair. If I was wrong things could get worse, but I didn’t know how.   “Be careful,” Sara whispered....

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The Greed of Man

Submitted to Contest #18

He had been following me all day. Of course I didn't turn around to see. I could sense him: hear the incessant crunching of his footsteps through the leaves, the labored breathing (I had been walking very quickly for quite some time), and an occasional sniff. I didn't know exactly why he was stalking me, but I had a pretty good idea.Most of the few pedestrians had gone home and the forest road was practically empty. There was a chill in the air and a biting wind howled through the bare trees, shaking the remaining leaves to the ground. I pul...

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Container Crime

Submitted to Contest #18

"Hey you" a man's voice yelled from behind the storage container, echoing off all nearby containers. You turn back, it's dark so you can't see who or where he is. You stay quiet and slowly squat down behind the large anchor and chains, hoping he'll lose you."Hey, get out here, get out here now, your wife won't be happy once she hears that you won't even stand up and fight for her" he said, voice booming threateningly throughout the ship. You roll your eyes and wait for him to do his worst. You're a fully trained investigator, lead chief poli...

3 likes 1 comment 1
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Golden Sunset

Submitted to Contest #18

I cower in a deserted park with my hands thrust deep in my trouser pockets. As I fend off icy winds, my eyes squint out over a small, hazy lake. My rigid body remains motionless, except for my left hand, which gently strokes the small object skulking in the lower reaches of my pocket. I drag my reluctant hands out momentarily to check my phone, not surprised when there are no messages. As I’m switching it back off, I glimpse the time and realise I’ve now been waiting over two hours for my wife to arrive. The lock-screen photo remains scorche...

3 likes 1 comment 1
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The Midway

Submitted to Contest #18

THE MIDWAY As usual, walking north on Beach 116th Street and away from the Flight 587 Memorial, he kept his fingers tightly wrapped the roll of quarters in his suit pocket until he was safely past his decades-old temptation. Without incident, he took the A Train to the Train to the Plane, ultimately boarding a 737 heading southwest to meet his date, the first in years.“Would you describe this date as ‘corny’? I mean, at our age. And aside from the fact that we’re eating corn dogs.” Devin, tall, an interesting combination of h...

3 likes 0 comments 0
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Better Safe Than Sorry

Submitted to Contest #18

The one thing Daddy’s little girl will never be accused of is being weak. I can’t stand being around victims or martyrs. They are feeble, pathetic people looking for sympathy. Not me. If you try to do me harm you will become the victim.Strength is something I learned from my father. He stood up for himself and showed me what it was like to be self-reliant. He was an attorney who fought for his own rights and the rights of others. My mother, on the other hand, was a martyr. She enjoyed suffering so that we could supposedly be happy. It was pi...

3 likes 2 comments 2
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You Can't Apologize to Dead People

Submitted to Contest #18

Alejandra stepped into the hospital room where her dad was lying, barely alive. She held back a sob when she saw how his dark color had faded and could hear the wheeze of his breath. His eyes were closed, but he must’ve heard her footsteps because he opened them—half-opened was a more accurate term.“Alejandra,” he said. His voice sounded grated as if he’d walked through a desert for weeks without water.“Papi,” she said. She hadn’t meant for her voice to crack. She pulled a chair to move it beside his bed when she noticed a cross the size of ...

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