THE CHOCOLATE-SCENTED BREEZE – by Jim Cort

11.11.2013
“Parents behind the line, please. We’ve got to separate the adults from the children.”
The harried woman in the yellow sweatshirt passed up and down the rippling line of children and parents. “We can’t start the Easter egg hunt until all parents are behind the line, please.”
Bill Willoughby, was jostled by the retreating parents. His daughter Jennifer Anne, five years old, turned and waved to him, smiling. The green lawn of the park spread out before her, dotted with multi-colored eggs. She held his baseball cap in her hands to hold the eggs she would find, since Daddy had forgotten a basket.
pick-and-mix-171342_640 Bill waved back and called out, “Good luck Jen.” The siren of the nearby fire engine sounded and the children surged forward, followed in a moment or two by the adults. Bill moved through the confusion, stepping over the occasional trampled egg and past the occasional bewildered child, too slow or too timid to have found anything.
Jennie stood on the path, a survivor, holding the laden baseball cap.
“How did you do, Jen?”
“Uh huh, I got seven. I got a number one too, see? Number sixteen”
“That’s my girl. That means you win a prize.”
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How to catch a Culprit – by Jason Fernandes

11.11.2013

“Sir! Someone has put a scratch mark with a pen, behind your shirt.” Exclaimed one of my colleagues. I had just got up from my desk and was moving towards the coffee machine. “Shit” I thought, “who could have done it?”
“We’re waiting from a long time” The elder one quipped. “We’re hungry as hell, what took you guys so long?”
pen-62373_640 I changed my trajectory and veered towards the washroom. I could hear a few giggles behind me. I entered the washroom. Luckily it was empty; I stood in front of the mirror. “Do I really look that stupid” I said this aloud, then remembered someone could be sitting inside the toilet. I turned and slowly looked around; fortunately all the three cubicles were empty. Heaving a sigh of relief I turned my back and looked at the reflection in the mirror. “Damn” I cursed, I couldn’t see a thing. Feeling depressed I moved out of the wash room.
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Kaufrausch – by Sandra Schlosser

11.11.2013

This short story is only available in German.

Read the German version here!

Stromausfall – by Katja Donath

11.11.2013

This short story is only available in German.

Read the German version here!

That Train – by Katriona Angel

08.11.2013

I dragged myself down the lane, one hand clamped onto a fence. Splinters cut me, every breath stung, but I walked on. My rifle rubbed against my shoulder, its bayonet pointed in sharp defiance upward. I could hardly see for the rain. The message rested in my pocket, heavy with the weight of responsibility. But I walked on.

Black shapes swooped and tumbled across my exhausted vision. I kept rubbing my eyes. Rain splashed into my skull, soothing my hair. The only thing that I could wash myself with now was rain. I held my arms open, the sudden onslaught of the downpour a glorious series of sensations against my skin. I opened my mouth to let the water trickle down my throat. It was bitter, strangely bitter…

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