Last Tuesday, dad asked if I could post a letter for him at the post office down the street. I didn't normally run errands for people. But this time I agreed because he let me work from home that day instead of going to school with a sore throat.
Was I glad I went to the post office! As I mailed dad's letter and turned around to go home, I saw something that would totally devastate my uncle. This made my heart leap with joy. I never liked my uncle much. I never liked people who turned a blind eye to the obvious fact that I was super smart.
Continue reading "Sweet Grapes" »
YOUNG EPIMENIDES tried to answer Gaea. But he found it difficult to speak with a mouthful of sticky barley ptisan. Not that he would have told her the truth anyway.
``Are you going to hear Kalanos the Brachmane speak today?'' Gaea repeated, this time turning to face Epimenides and brushing aside her dark curly locks to reveal her sharp features making it clear she demanded an immediate answer.
``I don't know Gaea'' He said when he finally managed to swallow his food. ``I haven't decided yet.''
The truth is, Epimenides knew very well that he was going. His father was one of the ten privileged members of the Kosmoi of Crete and was, in fact, in charge of attending to the foreigner Kalanos. He would be speaking to the gathering first that day and would be introducing Kalanos to them before the assembled Cretans had a chance to listen to the strange foreigner from the land of the five rivers. It was widely rumored that Kalanos had unusual mental powers and could work magic. People hoped that he would be able to demonstrate some of it at his speech that day.
Continue reading "Honesty is the best policy" »
The following story was submitted as an entry to the Guardian newspaper's 1997 short story contest with a focus on women. The maximum number of words allowed was 500. The title of the story also happens to be ``The Guardian''
Note (May 2007): I modified to set the story in the USA. Specifically, Wellington became Washington, and 111 became 911.
MARY McARTHUR beamed as the TV zoomed in on her husband campaigning in Washington.
``...government has NO right to violate our privacy...We'll pass a...''
That's when when it started.
SMASH!
Mary heard the intruder enter through the kitchen window. She grabbed the cordless, held her breath as she punched ``911'' and listened tensely.
Continue reading "The Guardian" »
TREVOR TOOGOOD didn't believe in ghosts. So one evening, when he and his buddies were discussing an episode of the X-files over drink, he wasted not a single beer-stained breath in defending his educated opinion of the show vociferously.
``Ghosts are an ontological impossibility'' he would argue, drawing on his deep and vast knowledge of philosophy which his first pint of Guinness seemed reliably to endow him with. Every further pint fueled his vocabulary and loudness on the matter. In the past, the issue was usually resolved by the hostel warden. He would be called upon by Trevor's neighbours who were desperately trying to finish off an assignment or get some sleep. But this time, things were to turn out differently. So differently, in fact, that nobody ever talked about ghosts in that hostel the next day on.
Continue reading "The Mortimer Test" »