Good And Evil

Bradley wondered what was wrong with him. Other kids may have complained about working their chores, but they enjoyed eating bacon and hamburgers, and talked excitedly about weekend hunting trips.

Bradley didn't know anyone for whom slaughtering a cow prompted an existential crisis. There was no doubt he was the weird one in town, and his parents, his brothers and sisters, his classmates, even his teachers, all knew this to be true.

He simply couldn't shake the feeling that just because everyone else thought eating animals was normal, there was something inherently evil about it.

From the cow's perspective anyway.

The Boat

Queenie was a friend of mine. I went to visit one weekend. Her husband was there but I didn't get to see him much because he was "busy working on the boat."

He was working in the garden. I went out to say hello but he was silent and went on with the work.

We had a meal, just the two of us. Queenie was used to dining alone.

When we heard that the boat had sunk on its first voyage, there was a certain amount of hilarity. He had escaped with his life. The devil looks after his own.

From Guest Contributor Derek McMillan

Derek is the writer of "Murder from Beyond the Grave" available on eBay.

Saturday Jog

Jogging through the park, I keep the pace feeling energetic and free. The breeze against my cheeks feels refreshing and the chirping birds fill the air with song.

It’s crowded for a Saturday morning and parents are up early with their children. I pass two women pushing their young children on the swings as the boys soar high and chortle. Other joggers pass and smile contently.

I finish my lap and take a seat on the bench gulping water.

After breakfast and a shower, I will go about my regular weekend visiting my dad in the nursing home memory unit.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Tool

“This is my weekend,” Hugh told the windscreen, almost colliding with the car in front. “Hold on.” He tuned out until he could give the Bluetooth his full attention. The car skidded to a stop on the gravelly lay-by.

“You can’t spare the time to drop him off? No problem, I’ll collect him.”

Glaring at traffic, he struggled to keep his response relatively civil.

“Your lover-boy gardener is intimidated by me?

He’s wattnow?

Right … gardener just long enough to plough you, eh?

Too bad, Cathal’s my son–

Bronagh?”

Hugh stared into space, eventually noticing an ironic sign.

WRONG WAY.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid

My Nana's Custard Tarts

Reflected by the low sun, her chair cast almost mechanical shadows.

Her milky waxy eyes somehow still sparkled.

She chuckled and a few chins flapped like defrosted chicken skin.

I sat pinned, and listened well.

So she told me about custard tarts.

"A good custard tart is rare you know, but you know when you have found one, the pastry is shorter than a long weekend, but as flaky as a veteran hippy! The filling, lovemaking of newlyweds, egg and vanilla, on velvet sheets of cream, complete with nutmeg confetti."

We both sat grinning at the crumbs on our plates.

From Guest Contributor Christoctopus

Introduction

I hate going to the Introduction Agency to get a date. There is a certain sense of shame and failure.

This time it’s for a skiing, long weekend my boss has arranged. I can’t attend another company weekend alone.

“My screen has a record of your preference,” says the receptionist. “You last used our personal services four months ago. Your good credit qualifies you for bronze level membership. Would you like to join?”

Tempted, I nod my head.

“We can introduce you to Amber, model looks, brunette, elegant. Amber will be fully recharged in about ninety minutes. Care to wait?”From Guest Contributor Barry O'Farrell

Barry is an actor living in Brisbane, Australia. Barry's other stories can be found at Cyclamens & Swords, 50 Word Stories, and here at A Story In 100 Words.