Vandemonium and CreativityTakesCourage
Welcome to our collection of Short Stories and Politically Incorrect Humour
FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! How does he know? How did Dave find out? My marriage is toast, I just know it. The courts will judge Dave to be the primary caregiver of our kids, he’ll be awarded custody. I’ll be a social pariah, shunned by just about everyone in this church-going community. Forgiven by the priest with the soft words but the judging expression. Read More …
Monday 10.10 p.m.
I’ll be the first to admit that I have a beautiful life. Read More …
To this day, I don’t know if it was a sigh, a cough, a breath of air stirred up by my husband’s presence, or something on a more psychic level that made me open my eyes. I do recall having an inane, endorphin spurred goofy grin on my face attesting to the success of John’s recent efforts. Read More …
“But at least I still have my balls, Your Honor.”
I heard my lawyer emit a low hiss and out of the corner of my eye saw his glare directed at me. I thought a guy on an hourly rate as huge as his would have a little more self-control than that. He’d warned, or rather, begged me to stop saying that phrase, citing that we risked losing public sympathy. Public sympathy, apparently, sways judges into handing out shorter sentences.
Read More …
SPECIAL NOTE: This extended version, adding approximately 3000 words, is thanks to the constructive feedback offered by low8option. Van1 and CTC love constructive criticism and questions. Thank you, low8option, for making us dig deeper on this story. Read More …
BROOKE REGARDED HERSELF in the bathroom mirror. She was flushed and dishevelled. She held her breath and stood perfectly still. She knew that the smallest movement, even the merest thought, and the zing in her belly, the nerves strung so tight they were like a corset, would twang. Read More …
My mind is still split on whether or not I have it in me to inflict the amount of pain I know I’m about to on an innocent party who in no way deserves what is about to go down in the next half-an-hour or so. But I look at the poster-sized photograph of me and Dave on our wedding day hanging above the mantlepiece, through eyes that have shed their last tear over the decline of my mostly happy twenty-eight-year marriage. Those tears happened the whole time I was debating whether or not to go through with this conversation. The conclusion is yes, but I’m still fighting the urge to flee. Dave is going to be devastated. Read More …
Damn the police!
What did they expect? A full physical description? My attacker was female, mid-thirties… probably. She wore a hat and dark glasses. You try guessing age behind those two things. That description was the best I could do. Read More …
————————————
I shushed Michael to silence when I saw my home number come up as the incoming caller on my cell and lay back near naked on our hotel room bed. He gave me a little-boy-denied-a-sweetie look.
“Dave, darling, I was just about to ring you. I got into bed and just had to hear your voice again before I went to sleep.” Read More …
But then as I lay there the ceiling light seemed to penetrate my chest, accusing me and forcing my focus inward. I questioned my own behavior. Why, after all the emotional slaps in the face Molly had dished out, was I still here? I’d had my suspicions, four years’ worth, confirmed. Physical or emotional, did it really matter what type of affair they’d been having? Read More …