Export Business

Suddenly, the company in California I’ve been negotiating with is ready to sign.

This is so important, to say nothing of the many months of work involved; I have to fly there now!

The second I get off the phone from the airline, I phone a good Californian hotel to be sure of a reservation.

Of course the Reservation Clerk wants both my credit card details and residential address. Patiently I spell Brisbane for her and then Australia.

“Aren’t you glad I don’t live in Tallygaroopna or Coonabarabran,” I conclude with a flourish.

“Sir, you have no idea how glad.”

From Guest Contributor Barry O'Farrell

Other stories by Barry O'Farrell have been published by Cyclamens and Swords and 50 Word Stories, even though he is an actor living in Brisbane, Australia.

Yellow Cabs

Jake sat in the back of the taxi wondering where the snowstorm was coming from. Outside was a sunny day in New York City, but the interior of his yellow cab already had several inches of cold, wet snow and the conditions seemed to be worsening.

He'd heard of strange events happening in cabs before. He actually knew of a guy who got into a taxi on 96th Street and got out near the Village transformed into a woman. But this weather seemed even more bizarre.

Perhaps the fact his driver was a penguin had something to do with it.

The Mystery Of Life And Death, Unexplained

For decades, scientists have studied Blackrock Crater to understand it's almost mystical attraction. Birds, animals--even insects--travel miles to the scenic spot, only to die from a combination of hyperthermia and suffocation. These deaths were not random. Rather, something was attracting the animals.

All manner of hypothesis were considered and then discarded. Magnetic fields, parasites, chemicals. There was no plausible explanation for the mass deaths. It almost seemed like intentional suicide.

Finally, Dr. Seaver decided that truly was the answer. There wasn't any scientific explanation for the phenomenon. The animals came to Blackrock simply because they wanted to die.

Corn Cobs

Johnny sure liked the sound corn cobs made as they brushed against his shoulders. It reminded him of a simpler time, a better time. That was when he enjoyed ice cream - now he was lactose intolerant.

He took a deep breath and loosened his tie, glancing idly at his soiled boat shoes. These were the ones Kara helped him pick out when the shop had a going-out-of-business sale. Kara was no longer around, and replacing her would be difficult.

Wiping the sweat off his brow, he couldn't even remember why he was in the corn field in the first place.

From Guest Contributor Schmehl

Seminal Rock

“What’s this old vinyl record,” I call to Dad.

We are in the middle of downsizing him for his final move to a retirement facility. This is a painful exercise on many levels.

“Which one?” he replies.

“There’s only one…by Iron Butterfly. How do you pronounce the title?”

“In-a-ga-da-da-vida.”

“Is it English?”

“It’s a piece of seminal rock and roll.”

“Yeh? What does seminal mean?”

“You were conceived to it.”

“No.”

“Yes. After dinner with a bottle of good red wine, that was the record your Mother played…well, you know how these things end. You were conceived…seminal.”

From Guest Contributor Barry O’Farrell

Barry is an actor living in Brisbane, Australia. The acting experience has inspired a latent desire to write. Barry is enjoying the challenge of writing in 100 words.

Houghton

The dark forest overlooking Houghton was well known to be the home of sprites. Thomas Buchanan, of Oxford, had made the journey to confirm the rumors of their presence were true. He came with all the normal accoutrement, including a traveling dresser, a coterie of servants, and a pack of beagles.

The sprites are nearly impossible to find when they want to stay hidden but Buchanan was prepared. Through a mixture of alchemy and freshly-baked pudding, he attracted a number of the young fairies. The hunt had begun.

No one ever heard from Buchanan, or the villagers of Houghton, again.

No Such Thing As Coincidence

Johnson arrived home to find a Buick-sized hole that ran from the roof of his bedroom all the way through the basement.

On the other side of the world, Chen discovered her experimental rocket was missing.

These two events were not coincidental.

Mr. Johnson's house had been hit by a meteor. Mr. Chen's rocket had been seized by government authorities. In fact, in addition to the distance, the two events took place several months apart.

Yet as we all know, thanks to Reverend Bledsoe's theological sermon this past Sunday, nothing happens by chance, but rather everything is by God's design.

Good Bye World

The blood of the homeless worked nicely. I was able to refine the unimaginably gruesome ritual and it worked, I stopped aging! I am writing this to repent for my sins and to warn others. Now the only life I will take is my own, to ensure that the minute details of the sickening ceremony die with me. Always remember that one virtuous short life is worth more than a hundred long lives of evil like the one I have lived. I now say goodbye to the world I have known longer than anyone else in the history of man.

From Guest Contributor Kevin Pentalow

On A Rainy Day

Twenty years of door keeping had taught me not to be late to work. I started early on a rainy day. Just round the corner, I saw this puppy wet to the bone. I took him home, dried, fed, cuddled and put him in cozy box. I rushed to my work a good thirty minutes late. The big man called me in, fired me from service. I went back home.

Honest loving pair of eyes greeted me with joy. Twenty minutes care had raked such love in him, I felt, my twenty years of service just went down the drain.

From Guest Contributor Thriveni C. Mysore

Grief

Arriving home, Sally is greeted by police at the main door.

“Thieves have systematically worked over every condo in this block. Apartments have been robbed, trashed or vandalized, your apartment badly. We have a grief counselor on hand for you.”

The police accompanying Sally to inspect the crime scene hold open the door for her revealing a distressing sight of man-made mayhem.

“I’m sorry you have to see this. Has anything immediately obvious been stolen?”

Sally slowly takes in the shocking scene of devastation before saying, “No. This is how I left it this morning. I was in a rush.”

From Guest Contributor Barry O’Farrell

Barry is an actor living in Brisbane, Australia. The acting experience has inspired a latent desire to write. Barry is enjoying the challenge of writing in 100 words.