THE SNIPER
“You must be Mrs. Brown.”
“Call me Sandra, please. You are Mark?”
“I am. Now, what is all this about, Sandra? You said on the phone that this was a matter of life and death.”
Vandemonium and CreativityTakesCourage
Welcome to our collection of Short Stories and Politically Incorrect Humour
“You must be Mrs. Brown.”
“Call me Sandra, please. You are Mark?”
“I am. Now, what is all this about, Sandra? You said on the phone that this was a matter of life and death.”
OKAY, I ADMIT IT, I’m a people watcher. Naturally introverted, I like sitting back, watching people, then trying to guess what they do for a living, what they’re thinking, etcetera. I do it more when I’m bored or trying to distract myself. It started when I was a kid and involved in a six-car pile-up on the Hume Highway. Luckily, neither I nor my grandparents were killed, but things got broken. Lots of things got broken, like both my legs, my wrist, my collarbone, a few vertebrae. The list goes on. Read More …
Dear Diary. Yippee, Dave finally proposed to me today. On Valentine’s Day, of all times, the romantic great lump. Read More …
Lucy was sexually excited. Very sexually excited. She was sure she could feel her own juices running down the inside of her leg. Read More …
THE EARLY MORNING LIGHT streamed through the narrow gaps in the wooden venetians. Olivia Hammond rolled to her side and took a moment to admire the way the sunlight threw bands of light across the naked torso of her husband. At thirty-three he was still in peak condition and certainly didn’t perpetuate the stereotype of the scrawny computer nerd. Her gaze travelled up his body and she smiled—Steven had thrown his arm over his eyes, blocking the light. Olivia was convinced Steven was like a puppy and could sleep anywhere, in any position. Read More …
“When did you find out about my affair with Michael?” Read More …
And Dave would be in the background the whole time, waiting. Read More …
Pulling the cover back, I slid carefully into my side of the huge bed. Still wide awake, I glanced at the clock on the bedside table. Strange. It was turned facing away from the bed. Read More …
“After you two orchestrated this little betrayal, your wife and I decided that neither of you should have any say in your futures.” Read More …
I looked for the last time at my reflection in the mirror. Could I do it? Could I really get away with this? Could the forty-year old, not beautiful but also not plain, housewife who has never done anything remotely like this, have one extramarital adventure with no repercussions at all? Read More …