Humor
The Severed Knot
Those who knew a thing or two about the English Civil War acknowledged that the Battle of Blundell's Edge was a turning point for the Parliamentarians. What was not suspected was that the previous night of Royalist debauchery at nearby Higley Court was a contributing factor. Higley Court had burned down immediately afterwards so the world didn’t know the truth. Only Gerald Higgs did. Or thought he did …but had made it his life's work to find out.
By Malcolm Twigg3 years ago in Fiction
Tales from the Cooinda Cycle: Memory Seven
My head throbbed, the pain was nauseating and I felt as if I was going to faint, or throw up… or both. But I couldn’t do that, and I couldn’t stop. I was making the tenth free drink for the day, and trying to serve another that I had just completed making. There had never been this many residents at the cafe at one time, as well as the regulars around this time, there were faces I’ve never seen here.
By Savannah K. Wilson3 years ago in Fiction
Flash in the Pan
Reginald Wellbeloved was a meticulous, pernickety little man, and so environmentally aware that he used to bottle anal wind, hoping to delay the onset of global warming that little bit longer. By the time he died, alone and unloved, from terminally trapped wind at the age of 89, he had a cellar full of neatly labelled glass jars that mapped out his entire gastronomic life. Which was all very interesting, but ultimately academic when an incredulous and careless house clearer called, appropriately enough, Albert Crapper accidentally dropped one of the largest jars whilst lighting up an environmentally unfriendly cigarette. Then, the whole cellar went up in a sheet of blue flame, blowing the door and Albert into the garden and releasing a lifetime's collection of fermented methane into the atmosphere at one fell swoop. Reginald would have been mortified, if he hadn't been dead already.
By Malcolm Twigg3 years ago in Fiction
The Book Club
“Spinoza! Whose bright idea was it to choose Spinoza? Spinoza was Jeeves’s choice of light reading, if you recall, but Jeeves had a brain the size of the Albert Hall. What earthly chance have I got of analysing a single word Spinoza says? Or even understanding a single word he says. I’m a poet not a bleedin’ philosopher.”
By Malcolm Twigg3 years ago in Fiction
Drakath’s Hoard of Lost and Abandoned Children
The cry of a human infant was very distinctive. Soaring high above the forest, Drakath heard it and swiftly banked into a dive, narrowing in on the sound. He ignored the curse and near-yank on his horns from his passenger at the sudden change in motion, landing on the lowest branch capable of holding his weight, craning his neck down as far as he could.
By Natasja Rose3 years ago in Fiction
Laughing at a Funeral
From complaining about his parties to accusing him of giving her dogs diarrhoea, Nick would forever be the bane of Mrs Handbag’s existence. The old cow had to be at least in her late eighties, perhaps it was time for her to move on to the next life.
By Chloe Gilholy3 years ago in Fiction
Uh, Huh, Huh?
Alvin Pratt was so convinced that Elvis was still alive he had made it his life’s work to track him down. That he did so perpetually wearing the full gear and a lop-sided sneer, rather detracted from any credibility he might have carried, but Alvin was never one for short measures – except when dispensing drinks in the pub he ran with his wife, Effie.
By Malcolm Twigg3 years ago in Fiction
Two Sides of the Coin
"Two sides of the same coin, you and me." The speaker sat scuffing his heels on a cloud top, sorting through a bag of sandwiches and trying his best not to listen to the attempts of his companion to master a relatively simple piece for harp and solo falsetto.
By Malcolm Twigg3 years ago in Fiction
