Moral Crisis

Ellie reported for work in the intensive care ward of her hospital, a job she loved. One name popped up in the daily briefing. Bile rose in her throat, her hands were shaking. It took all her self-control to calm down.

Bed number 6 was her step-father, a man she loathed, suffering from a breathing problem, at present on high levels of oxygen. Memories raced through her mind of her beautiful confident mother reduced to a mouse-like creature. Years of put downs, how she would never amount to anything as she was too stupid.

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No Words …

It was an extraordinary few weeks to have lived through. The causes have never been fully revealed, although many have subsequently attempted to attribute blame, and no end of conspiracy theories continue to circulate – as though lessons still have not been learned. All I can do is offer an account of the way it seemed to me.

It was in the middle of the Era of Unpleasantness, a time of destruction, disease and self-interest, which had befallen humankind. There were some attempts to mitigate the worst cruelties to people and the natural world but these were often crushed and were never likely to change completely the way things were.

My first inkling was when my books seemed to have turned into blank paper. How very strange, and particularly so when my computer files seemed to be doing the same thing. When I tried to call friends, the phone merely gave out mechanical beeps. Neighbours waved but couldn’t talk. It seemed as though words had gone missing, as though a modern-day Pied Piper had lured them into a mountain-side and trapped them there.

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Mind Virus

It started with a sniffle, and a couple of hours later he noticed he had an earache. By noon his throat was dry; tap-water wouldn’t ease it. The following day all his muscles ached, and he was sure he had a temperature. He went to sleep in the afternoon, feeling like a truck had knocked him down. Next morning, he couldn’t get up. He just lay in bed hot and sticky, feeling like he was buried. The days passed and got worse. He ought to ring 111, but he had no credit on his pay-as-you-go phone.

            As he lay there, his small, bare flat seemed to be shrinking. He’d lived in it ten years, and hadn’t gone out in over twelve months. He knew his mind was bust, and now his body was too. Nothing to be done, he told himself. You’ve been ignored since you came to this country. Still are, man.

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Fortress or Jail

“Oh no!” cried Sally as she stared at her television.  The “Breaking News” bulletin from the Prime Minister was severe.

“STAY INDOORS.” 

She had been following the progress of the invisible enemy, a previously unknown virus that was currently sweeping the country, but she had not expected to be in lockdown. She could feel the panic starting to rise in her chest. 

“YOU MUST STAY INDOORS FOR AT LEAST THREE WEEKS, EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY, THIS WILL BE REVIEWED AT THE END OF THAT PERIOD.”

Sally went to check her food stocks.  At least her freezer was full and she had quite a few canned goods.  She would be able to survive.

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Desire

She never would have done it normally. It wasn’t in her makeup to do such a thing. So why? Why would a woman of her age do such a thing? She had always had standards, even though she was so lonely that sometimes she wanted to die.

Joan is a plain woman, she has never attracted a man and since the war was now over and the men were returning beaten and broken, she wanted to help. So volunteering at the local hospital seemed a charitable act.

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The last post

I woke in a strange bed, which itself was in a large, unfamiliar room. Around me were a collection of machines and tubes, one of which was clamped to my face by elasticated straps. Chromium mannequins dressed in medical scrubs roved the tiled floor between the foot of my bed and the adjacent wall, clicking and whirring as they made their way from one task to another. I recognised them as robotic nurses from some TV show.  

“Good evening, Mister Craws,” said a voice. I turned my head to see a robot hovering to one side of my bed, a fresh set of tubes wrapped in sealed bags clutched in her three-fingered hands. “I’m Nurse 4. I’m here to change your breathing tube.”

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Crisis

I think the whole world is in crisis at the moment. Humanity is fumbling from one catastrophe to the next. Natural disasters abound from earthquakes and volcanoes erupting to, some say, human set fires that have wiped out most of the indigenous animals of Australia.

Now, we have the coronavirus which is sweeping the world. It astounds me that, the government are setting guidelines to keep people safe. However, we are hearing about people partying and holding barbecues, flouting the safety rules, and all because the weather is unseasonably quite warm.

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The Election Promise

It had been a tough one, but the ‘Support Our People’ party (SOP) had just squeezed through.  The gamble of promising what the people wanted was a brave manifesto, and now they had to come up with the goods.

It was a week later that they actually got down to any business, it had taken that long for the effects of the copious amount of champagne to wear off.  The speaker and Chairman of the SOP party, Lord Charles Alexander Grovner gave his opening speech.  The floor was then open to his underling Lords to come up with ideas that would support their manifesto.

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Sark

I had a very romantic viewpoint about Sark. It was a place I had always wanted to visit. Being a very poor sleeper the idea of going to an island bereft of traffic and street lighting sounded like the perfect escape.

I got off the ferry about 4pm, it was a bright and sunny day and the horse drawn carriage was charming, taking the six new visitors to their chosen accommodation.

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And there came upon the land a great flood…

Sam wondered where Rosie, his home help was, she wasn’t usually late.  He hoped she hadn’t had an accident.  Slowly swinging his legs over to the side of the bed and with the aid of his crutches, he managed to get to the stair lift. He made some breakfast and wrote a list of food items that he needed, that Rosie could get later.

Through the window, he could see the palm tree waving in the strong wind.  Quite a storm we had last night he thought, he was glad the tree had survived.  It had always been a bit of a joke between his wife Maureen, and himself, a reminder of good times together in sunnier climes.  It was only then he noticed that the garden bench wasn’t in it’s usual spot.  It was bobbing up and down in water near the hedge.  He looked towards the road hoping to see Rosie, but only saw a swift flowing muddy river that seemed to be surrounding his home. 

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The Writing Retreat

I glance at the headline of the newspaper folded in my lap, and smile. The plane takes off and the island shrinks into a chocolate-box toytown, surrounded by a champagne sea.

Only a week ago, I hauled my bag up the path that spirals around that cliff. The hotel loomed above me, built into the rocks and incandescent in the sunshine.

She was by the lift, talking into her phone when I walked through reception. I recognised her voice immediately: that same grating, high-pitched lilt. She looked up. A flash of recognition and – was that panic? Then she plastered on a smile.

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Sin

Father Scanlon wanted to be at his meal, a good stew washed down with a glass of red wine. Involuntarily he licked his lips. Saturday evening confessions were always difficult: the trivial sins of his flock comingling with his sharp pangs of appetite.

            His attention returned to the penitent behind the grill. The fellow was rambling, unable or unwilling to name his sin. It was the mortal sins that mattered, and the priest couldn’t judge the sins’ gravity.

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Weathering The Storm

Wyn paused – mid-shuffle – bringing the whole of his deliberation to bear on the weather forecast. ” …  Storm Delme continues to gather pace, with winds of 60 miles an hour sweeping into coastal areas, bringing with it heavy squalls of rain …” His heart beat a little faster. Then he re-focused his attention on the considerable task of placing one foot in front of the other and inched his way from the kitchen to the hall, where his coat hung on a hook.

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Desire

I began as soon as I got in through the door. Packing first, then cleaning later. I pride myself on being methodical, staying cool and calm under pressure; not that this was pressure really, I had been here many times before. Deftly, I pulled my suitcase down from the top of the wardrobe and began packing it with neat layers of clothing, toiletries and makeup.

Cleaning next. I pull on a pair of rubber gloves; every surface, every door handle and light switch had to be cleaned to within an inch of its life! It wouldn’t do to get careless at this stage of the game.

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Desire for what

So much for the boasts of virtual indestructability. Ground realities differ. Paul searched his memory for that specific web page. The photo that oozed seduction – a golden leather top layer and then 2 further layers, splayed like the pages of a flicked book. All fully breathable and heat conserving:
“This traditional snowshoe binding is composed of three layers of material riveted together. Each binding attaches to the snowshoe with two anchor points to reduce lateral movement of the heel, meaning the foot stays in line with the snowshoe”

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I want …

Lucy, dressed in her best clothes looked at her reflection in the mirror.  I look dowdy she thought.  My mother wouldn’t even wear these to clean the grate out, and would never wear them outside, even to do the gardening.  She sighed heavily. She had been doing that a lot lately.

Steven, her husband of what seemed like five long years, shouted, “Get a move on, I said we would be there at 11.30.”

She sighed once more before pulling on her well-worn boots, and checked her reflection before hurrying down the stairs.  They set off across the park.  No matter how late they were Steven would never pay for a taxi or even get on a bus. She had thought in the past that his frugality was a good thing. Having lived with it she now knew he was just a very mean person, and she had had to live by his rules.

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A Crime of Passion

White Persian cat

Mia opened her large green eyes, twitched her delicate nose, stretched her sinewy long body. Smelling breakfast, she padded along the thick carpet into the kitchen.

As with every other day eating her food, a noise distracted her. Jumping up she raced to the window. Gazing out HE appeared, strutting along. Her heartbeat raced. How she longed to meet. He was so big and strong, seeing off any rivals who dared to encroach on his territory.

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