Evening Walk

Jeff was in the park, walking his dog as he did every night before throwing in the towel and going to bed.
Two people he had never seen before were walking towards him. One was a boy of around 14 and the other was an older woman, most likely his grandma. As they drew nearer Jeff noticed something strange about the woman. It was her left arm. She seemed to be holding it at a very unnatural angle. The hand was darker than the one which hung by her side and Jeff realised it was a prosthetic. He tried not to stare, but couldn't help it.
"Lovely evening," Jeff said.
"Yes," replied the woman seemingly annoyed that they didn't have the park to themselves.
The two headed for the children's play area as Jeff headed across the grass towards the trees.
He saw them both sit on a seesaw. They bounced up and down for several minutes without a word. Neither seemed to be enjoying themselves in the least.
Jeff watched from beneath a tree as the boy climbed off and then helped the woman stand up. They both walked back the way they had come in silence.

Curtains

She was woken by the alarm clock. although she didn't want to be awake.
Reluctantly she got out of bed and headed for the window. She pulled open the curtains. It was raining outside.
She didn't like what she saw and drew the curtains shut again.
She knew it was impossible to fight against it and she opened the curtains once more. It was a beautiful, sunny day.
How bizarre, she thought.
She closed the curtains and waited a few seconds before re-opening them.
It was snowing.
She laughed.
She repeated the move with the curtains several times and experienced the full spectrum of weather through her bedroom window.
She would try just one more time. The curtains were pulled open again.
The world outside was unrecognisable. All the buildings were gone and the landscape was grey. There was the sound of an explosion. It sounded very close. This made her feel very uneasy.
She tried to close the curtains but they were stuck. She tugged on them without effect. There was another explosion. Even closer this time.
Another attempt to close the curtains resulted in the pole and curtains being pulled down from the wall.
The next explosion was the final one.

Kick Off

It was time. The crowd were as loud as they had ever been. The anticipation of the first game of a new season was almost too much and it was just seconds away.
The emerald green pitch always looked its best on this day. The players were wearing the shiny new kit and every fan would spend £100 to have a shoddy replica of it.
The referee blew his whistle and the first kick of the game echoed around the field accompanied by much cheering.
The clock had reached only 32 seconds when the unexpected happened.
A round, flat craft, almost a mile wide and presumably of alien origin, fell from the sky on its side and sliced the pitch and the stands clean in two exactly along the halfway line.
There was no cheering.

My Generation

"We were better than the current lot. We were probably better than the previous lot too. We had more respect for people and we had a better work ethic."
The man with the clipboard nodded and took notes.
"The youth of today can't get out of bed before lunchtime and they're permanently glued to their phones and tablets."
More nodding and note-taking.
"They're the future, apparently. Well that isn't a future I waant to be part of."
He leaped up, ran across the room and dived head first through the window.
The note-taking man arched an eyebrow and scribbled frantically.

Bath

The water was running and the bubbles were added. A million tealights were lit and the soothing CD was playing in the background.
She slid into the tub and smiled. The day's stress washing away.
Her toe got caught on the chain by the plug. It tickled and she instinctively jerked her foot away from it. The plug was pulled out and water began to drain away.
Her foot was being sucked down the plughole and there was nothing she could do. It was too powerful to fight against and she was trying her hardest to no avail.
She screamed, but there was nobody else home. Her lower leg had been pulled down now too. She could feel her knee being squeezed by the plughole.
In the panic her arm had struck a tealight and it had been knocked on to the floor. A rug had caught fire and it had spread to the laundry hamper and curtains.
Weeks later the coroner couldn't decide whether the cause of death was drowning or being burned alive.

Refresh

He had sent an email containing a very important question. He had typed it seconds after he had received the initial message, so he knew they were online.
10 minutes passed and his question remained unanswered.
He refreshed his browser every two seconds, hoping the answer would arrive.
Minutes became hours and it started to get dark. Still he clicked on refresh.
He began to feel tired and felt his eyes become heavy.
Refresh.
Still nothing.
He dozed and snapped awake. He pressed refresh. The cycle was repeated for the entire duration of the night.
The following morning at just after 9am he finally got a reply.
It wasn't the answer he had hoped for.

Leaving

We've left but we haven't left.
Maybe we never will.
Will it make a difference?
Yes. And no. Actually nobody knows, but it's assumed that whether we stay or leave now it will be worse than it was before.
Nobody can predict the outcome.
And now we sit here, fifty yards from the bus station, waiting for a mechanic.

Parking

It hadn't been that long since his driving test and he'd done it then, but why did parallel parking now perplex him so much?
He'd tried at least five times now, each time coming in at the wrong angle and mounting the kerb. It was a miracle he hadn't scraped the car in front, although as it was an Audi they would probably have deserved it anyway.
He tried one last time. He hit the kerb again.
Fuck it, he thought and got out of the car that was protruding a good foot into the road and would be bashed when he came back an hour later.

Evil

She looked out across the fields. They were her fields and she would kill anyone who dared to enter them. What was the point of having an empire if she couldn't protect it?
She had killed several times in the last week alone and was quite hooked on the way it made her feel. She didn't want any assistance although others had tried to ally themselves with her.
She operated alone and detested the company of others.
She would kill again later, but now what she wanted more than anything was to lie in the sun and eat some of that tinned salmon her owner liked to feed her.

Lavatory

He sat atop his porcelain looking post. He could see out of the window from here. He watched his neighbours tending to their garden.
He hoped they didn't look up and see him, the strained expression on his face as he attempted to get things going.
His stomach gurgled and he pushed. It was like giving birth, if dog's eggs were living creatures.
He let out a groan of satisfaction as the brown trout began to curl out.
His neighbours looked up as they heard his moans and saw his ecstatic, contorted face. They phoned the police, thinking he was doing something else.

No Time

I'm always so busy. There's no time for anything. If only I was like all those other people with their masses of spare time that they waste with pub visits and television.
Ah well, some of us have more important things to do.
All the years of designing and building and now I'm finished. My work is still a 24/7 situation while I wait for the time to come.
My nuclear weapons won't guard themselves.

Baked Potatoes

Brian was reversing his car into his drive. He'd eaten a colossal lunch and he felt as if he could possibly throw up. He opened his door, partly to lean out a little to see where he was going better and partly because he thought he was going to hurl.
He looked up his driveway and saw Terry, Tony and John standing by his front door.
This is my chance, he thought.
He pushed the accelerator all the way down to the floor and crushed all three of them against the front of his house.
The charge of manslaughter would be preferable to remaining in a band with the other three.

Power

The woman entered the doctor's surgery. She had in her hand a sealed envelope.
"Hello," she said to the receptionist.
The receptionist scowled at her.
"Yes?"
"Could you give this to the doctor, please?"
She snatched the envelope from the woman's hand, ignored the PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL message on the front and tore it open.
"Err, what are you doing?"
"What does it look like I'm doing?"
"It says private and confidential on it."
"Yes, I saw that."
"So why did you open it?"
"Because I wanted to."
The receptionist stared at the woman with a look that made her feel cold.
The woman left.

Calculator

5318008
He punched the digits into his calculator and turned it upside down. He roared like a lunatic at his own hilarity.
The boy next to him turned around and frowned. The frown became a smile once he saw the calculator's screen.
"What's going on here?" the teacher asked, striding towards their table.
The attempt to remove the calculator from sight failed and the teacher snatched it up.
"Ah yes. Very funny," he said.
The teacher punched away on the keys and then turned the calculator upside down to show the boys.
"STOP PISSING ABOUT," it said.
The boys tried to figure out which digits had been used.

Straight Ahead

"In fifty yards, turn left."
He was dependant on his satnav in the strange city, but he wished it wouldn't address him in such a curt fashion.
"Alright, alright," he said in reply.
He turned left, but he was too early. It was the next street he wanted.
"Recalculating route."
He continued to drive.
"Take the next right."
He did as he was told and turned straight into a dead end.
"Recalculating route."
He reversed out of the road and headed back the way he had come.
"Recalculating route."
"Get on with it."
He turned left and then left again. He was now on the road the satnav wanted him to take in the first place.
"Recalculating route."
After a few seconds the satnav had figured it out and emitted a ping.
"At the next junction go straight ahead."
He did so without thought and he was in the river before he knew it.
The satnav felt smug.

Bank

"Good morning, madam," the teller announced enthusiastically.
"I would like to withdraw £30,000 in cash please," the customer said in a near-whisper.
"That won't be possible."
"Why?"
"It's against our policy."
"Is it too large an amount?"
"It's against our policy."
"Yes, you said that already."
"Then you understand I can't give you £30,000."
"I need £30,000 and I have more than enough in my account as I'm sure you can see on your screen."
"But I can't give you it."
"I want to speak to your manager."
The teller left her position and returned with a woman who was much more smartly dressed.
"Is there a problem?" she asked.
"Yes, there is. I want to withdraw £30,000 and I've ben told it's against your policy."
"That's right."
"Why's that?"
"Policy."
"Fuck your policy."
The customer stormed out with the intention of phoning the bank's head office and filing a formal complaint. She'd contact her MP too. And she'd close her account. She was beyond livid.
"One day they'll realise we've no money left," mused the manager quietly.

The Chosen One

He stood on top of the hill overlooking the village. He knew it was his destiny to lead them and he was waiting for a sign to tell him what to do next.
He watched as they went about their business.
A storm was brewing and within minutes it was raining like he'd never witnessed before.
Lightning flashed and thunder boomed.
He pulled his hood over his head and continued to watch.
Lightning struck one of the huts below, People screamed. Bolt after bolt followed and each time a hut was destroyed.
"What should I do, God?" he asked.
Lightning struck him down.

TV

The boy sat watching, his eyes as wide as a meth head's.
He was getting a worse fix than any chemical narcotic. His brain was slowly being destroyed by flickering images of meaningless bullshit.
In a moment of clarity he pictured how his life would play out. He saw himself in 50 years' time, sitting watching, but he was much fatter. He was wearing a vest that was stained with the spillages of a thousand takeaway deliveries. All his life would be about would be TV, TV and more TV.
He needed to stop it.
He pulled the plug from the wall, lifted the television above his head and threw it through the window.
He climbed through then shattered window and ran across his garden and over the field behind it towards freedom.

Refusal

"Can we come in?"
"No."
"Why not?"
He stared right through them. It was starting to rain and this bodybuilder in a monkey suit just didn't care. He chewed his gum and thought he looked important with his little headset thing. He was probably using it to listen to Britney Spears or something.
"Please let us in," pleaded one of the girls.
He ignored her.
Five people walked out of the club. Now it should be their chance.
The bouncer stood dead still.
"Come on. You have to let us in."
He walked away from them and into the club. The door was slammed shut behind him and there was the sound of a key turning in the lock.

Dream

Davey woke up bathed in sweat. His mattress was soaked too, but he suspected that wasn't just sweat.
He swung his legs out of the bed and thought about the horrific dream he'd just had.
Did he die?
He can't have done because if you dream you die you die for real, don't you? What nonsense.
He was shaking and he went to get a glass of water.
After a while he grabbed a blanket and climbed on to the sofa, a less-sodden sleeping possibility.
He drifted off to sleep and straight back into the dream from which he'd recently escaped.

Look Up

She left the house and felt light rain on her face. She instinctively held out her hand as if that somehow was a scientific means of telling if it was actually raining or just her face playing tricks on her.
She thought she could hear laughter. Rain was no laughing matter. She retreated inside to grab an umbrella.
She could see the rain was getting heavier. It looked like a huge downpour.
She took a chance against bad luck and opened the umbrella inside the house before stepping outside. The rain bounced off the brolly as she locked the door.
She walked down the street. It was several minutes before she realised she was the only one with an umbrella and that it wasn't actually raining.
If she'd looked up outside the house she'd have seen two kids on the roof with a hosepipe.

Dealer

The man with the flashes of silver in his hair started his car and screeched away from his house. The smell of burning rubber and the sound of Mozart filled the street.
He was in a hurry to complete an important business transaction. He looked the part in his Armani suit and expensive shoes. Every bit the dubious entrepreneur. He smoked a Cuban cigar as he drove at speed through the city centre.
He pulled up at a unit on the industrial estate and stopped the motor. He got out and went and knocked on the door. It was a pre-agreed knock. A rat-a-tat-a rather than a rat-a-tat, he had been told.
A man with a beard opened the door.
"Yes?"
"I'm here for the stuff."
"Have you got the money?"
He slipped a thick envelope out of his inside pocket and passed it to the man. It was opened and the contents checked before he was let in.
"It's over there."
There were two large cardboard boxes. He opened one and checked the contents. All of the books were in mint condition.

Salt

He picked up the salt cellar and shook it all over his chips. The top came off and there was a week or more's worth of salt on his supper.
He started to scrape it off.
"Err, what do you think you're doing?" asked his mother.
"I was just..."
"No. Eat it."
He started eating the overly-salty chips. He was getting thirsty. He stood up.
"Where are you going?"
"To get a drink. I'm so thirsty."
"Sit back down. No drink before you finish eating."
He sat and continued to eat. Tears streamed down his face. His mouth felt like a desert and his chips tasted terrible.
Eventually he finished and went to get a drink.
"Did that teach you anything?"
He thought for a second and then threw the glass straight at her head.

Match

The referee blew his whistle. This was the first local derby he had ever officiated. He knew they loved their football up here. He knew that the form book went out the window inside this pressure cooker atmosphere-filled stadium. He knew that one team would end up as sick as parrots in this game of two halves. He knew there was more at stake here than three points - there were local bragging rights too. He knew the master tactician managers would play this like a game of chess. He knew the stakes had never been higher. He knew both teams would put the ball about the park a bit in their pursuit of making the old onion bag bulge.
As he thought about cliches the team in white celebrated wildly. They'd scored a goal he hadn't seen.

The Note

Why do I have to get up?
A quick text claiming I'm ill and it's contagious and I can pull the duvet over my head and spend the rest of the day here. The world won't stop turning.
But the rent, the bills. I've got no damn choice.
The note was found at his home a week after his disappearance.

Burn

The alarm sounded and everybody filed out of the factory. They mumbled and moaned that yet another drill was interfering with their work and knackering their chances of a bonus this month.
Once in the car park they saw it was no drill.
The sky was lit up by the colossal flames and half the neighbourhood had turned up to watch.
By the time the fire brigade had gained the upper hand the employees had come to terms with the fact that none of them would ever receive another bonus.

Waiting

He sat and thumbed through the pile of magazines on the table. Gossip and gardening from five years ago. The surprise was how well-leafed through they seemed. Well, he wasn't that desperate, so he took up staring out the window instead.
It was the end of the day and there was nobody else waiting. It was five minutes until his appointment and the receptionist had left too. He had the run of the place and could do whatever he wanted.
He hoped the doctor called him soon as he felt his stomach tell him it was time for a poo. He wasn't sure how long he could wait.
He spied a bowl of pot pourri on a window sill and a lightbulb went off above his head.

Report

The boss stormed in and slammed the door behind him. This wasn't going to end well. He was cracking his knuckles and his face was the colour of a freshly-painted London bus.
He threw a pile of papers on the desk.
"What's this, Jones?"
It was the report Jones had written. They both knew this. Jones was unsure how to answer.
"I'll tell you what it is, shall I?"
He wasn't going to tell him it was the report, of that Jones was sure.
"It's a piece of shit, that's what."
It was good to know that the hours he'd put into it were appreciated.
"The figures are terrible."
The figures were terrible. That was very true, but short of lying about them they weren't going to look any better.
"The shareholders won't like this. You'll have to do better."
He headed for the door and turned to look at Jones as he grasped the handle.
"Just make shit up if necessary. They won't know the difference."
Jones nodded and set about drafting his letter of resignation.

Teddy

Its eyes seemed to follow him around the room.
The child laughed as he noticed this.
"Teddy, you're so funny!" he giggled.
He went downstairs to retrieve the pens he desperately needed to finish the important picture he was working on. A thick blue band of sky and a thick green band of grass already formed the basis of what would certainly become a masterpiece.
When he came back into his room Teddy had moved.
It sat on the windowsill and looked out at the garden. The pens dropped from the boy's hands.
"H-how did you g-get over there?" he asked.
Teddy said nothing.
The boy's brother grinned to himself in the room next door.

Empty

Marcus sat in his car on the grass verge. He had tried to start it several times after it had stopped for no reason. The two men in the van had kindly helped him off the road after a hundred angry motorists had blown their horns at him.
He had phoned the breakdown company and they had promised to be there within half an hour. It had been forty minutes. Maybe they'd broken down too?
A vehicle pulled up behind him and an overall-clad man get out. He approached Marcus' car and tapped on the window.
Marcus explained that he'd broken down, as if it were necessary.
The breakdown man quickly discovered what was wrong. He pointed at the fuel gauge and grunted. It showed that there was no petrol in the tank.
Marcus told him that he'd seen that, but thought you always got at least another fifty miles out of it once the red light was lit.
The breakdown man was glad that stupid people kept him in business.

7:30

It's time to get up. I've pressed snooze nine times already and there's no time for another go at it.
My bladder is about to rupture and I'm hungry. I'm running late. It's going to be a rush to get ready on time. Yes, it mught be Saturday, but I still need to be up at a sensible time.