Susan and Jim went to the seaside with their cat Frantenskein. Frantenskein played happily on the beach while Susan and Jim sat eating sandwiches and drinking lemonade. As Frantenskein was destroying a sandcastle, he caught sight of a kite falling into the sea and rushed off to try and catch it, but was soon tossed hither and thither by the incoming waves. Seeing the cat in trouble in the salty water, Jim dived in to save him. While he and the impetuous animal were engaged in their life and death struggle with the elements, the lemonade bottle exploded and made a ghastly stain all over Susan’s new dress. In her anger and dismay, Susan left the picnic things on the beach and caught a train to London, where she found a new life as the director of a large corporation. She never discovered what became of Jim and Frantenskein, though in later years she occasionally thought of them with a modicum of sympathy and regret.
(If Susan is still alive and happens to be reading this, she should know that her abrupt abandonment of Jim and Frantenskein did not cause lasting damage to either of them. Frantenskein was destined to die young in any case, and Jim soon pulled himself together. In time he became a moderately successful drummer in a jazz band. His later alcoholism had nothing to do with the beach incident – at least, he always denied it).
This short story was written by Peter Bendall At the Seaside is one of over a hundred very short stories published in “THE EDIBLE ANARCHIST – and other sentimental tales” – visit the webpage to buy a copy.
It’s time to remind you that our competition closes in 20 days time, on 31st May. We have received a fair amount of entries so far – but not as many international stories as in previous years. Remember that we accept entries from anywhere in the world. So get writing! Full details are on our competition pages. We are looking forward to a good read in June and handing out a cash price in the autumn.
It was a sunny. A short bald strolled along the busy, whistling a popular and peering into the well-stocked. He had an almost irresistible to buy some delicious and had to impose his iron to quell it. His charming had told him to do something about his podgy: up to now they had had a blissful, but she didn’t want to marry a rotund. She wasn’t so keen on wedding a hairless either, come to that. She could almost see herself in his shiny when he bent down to pick up his false, which were always falling out, for some unaccountable. As if that wasn’t annoying enough, he frequently bruised her delicate with his rough. And he had a rather rasping, not to speak of a horselike when he ate. But she would forgive all of this if only he didn’t look like a stuffed. Had he been privy to her inmost, he might have lost faith in her undying, but being a straightforward uncomplicated he never had the slightest of her critical, apart from her frank about his wobbling and double. And now here he was on the way to a modern well- equipped, which would get rid of the superfluous in no time and turn his tubby into a lean. Before he got there, however, he choked on his chewing and collapsed onto the hard unforgiving. A gaping gathered and a qualified tried to resuscitate him, but it was too late.
After a decent, his former married a muscular and lived happily ever after.
This short story was written by Peter Bendall A Sunny is one of over a hundred very short stories published in “THE EDIBLE ANARCHIST – and other sentimental tales” – visit the webpage to buy a copy.