I remember receiving the box of my father’s things when I was 25. Shortly after he died I received a phone call to collect his effects from the mental hospital. They say after 15 years of incarceration, his brain finally gave in and let him pass. My family told me he hadn’t always been insane, it was a slow deterioration over many years. I don’t remember him being anything other than raving, violent and dangerous. Photos exist of us together when I was a toddler. It’s a time I don’t remember or want to. I took the box to my car, marvelling at how small it was. A small box, no bigger than a standard order from Amazon. A handful of things collected over a lifetime. I threw the box in the back of my car. I cared less about it than I did my father and that was saying something. As I pulled up to the house I left the box in the car and went in. Swinging my toddler into my arms, feeling his arms wrap around my neck. How could my father leave me at the same age?
The first the controller knew about the missing passenger on Flight 241, was the battered suitcase on the carousel. The battered brown case slid around the circular belt, like a loan surfer on the waves. The controller picked up the case and took it to his office. It always amazed him that people could get … Continue reading Homeward Bound – Short Story
Zee looked at the jar in his hand, containing his parent’s ashes. His family who he had carried with him for the last two years. Whilst he arranged the journey back to his father’s homeland. His last dying wish, to be buried at home. His mother’s ashes to go with him. Together in eternity. Zee’s parents had loved each other despite the crippling cultural differences. Zee had been born mix heritage, a factor that had haunted him all his life. The bullies at school who had mocked him. The employers who had given him the worst jobs, because of it. When he complained to his parents about it, always the same answer.
The fan moved the still air, around the bunker. Since the crash of 2025, air had become a precious commodity. The irony of the wind generator running the fan in the bunker to circulate the stale air wasn’t wasted on Harper. The problem was the air that turned the wind turbine wasn’t worth breathing. Since the world had destroyed itself, the atmosphere contained chemicals. Chemicals that even the most robust living organism couldn’t survive. Still, the filtration machine cleaned the air and the fan circulated it throughout. The air smelt stale and it was always hot, but breathing it couldn’t kill you.
Part Three of Tommy’s Life Tommy sniffed the sweet sea air. He loved how fresh everything smelt on the beach. He licked his lips and tasted the salt. The small dog he had recently rescued from the shelter, ran by his side. Everyone stopped to talk to the guy with the cute dog. The wind blew the sand around his feet as he took another deep breath. The first relaxing breath he had been able to take for two weeks. Ever since he had been stopped in the subway by the policeman, after the Facebook challenge. His act of pretending to be the first aider, whilst killing his victims was over. This time Tommy had managed to escape the suspicions of the police. He knew he would not be that lucky next time. One more incident of Tommy being found at a murder scene and his mission would be over for good.
Rose was again drawn to the window as the flash lit up the street. She gasped in horror, who was that she had seen standing in the room with Joe and Gina. Behind them in the shadows. No, she had imagined it. There was no one there.
Rose threw her legs out of the bed for the fifth time in one night. The baby wouldn’t sleep for more than 45 minutes. As soon as Rose drifted off she was woken again by the screams. Rose had never felt tiredness like it. There were times during the last couple of weeks where she has started hallucinating. It was only a bum change this time. Rose remembered how her mother had mocked her when she said she was using traditional nappies. She had risen her eyebrows and chuckled.