Journal Saturday short stories

• Last Christmas
   
  By Shelley Day Sclater 
  
  
  We should not have gone to the Fergusons’ that night. It’s not as though they were close friends or anything. I did try – a bit half-heartedly – to put Angus off. “They just asked us to make up numbers,” I said. 
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• Runners
  
  By Peter King
  
  A few weeks ago Auntie Cath suggested to Mum and Dad that this year I might be old enough to visit her in Plymouth on my own, that I could travel down by train and she’d meet me at Plymouth station. It’s a full day’s journey by train but Auntie Cath said to Mum: ‘He just gets on at Newcastle and gets off at Plymouth. How hard can it be?’
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• Tell Me a Story About Happiness
  
  By Angela Readman
  
  My girlfriend lost the key to her happiness. ‘What does it look like?’ I asked. She shrugged. Till she found her happiness she wasn’t going to be much good at this love stuff, I thought.
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• Kiting
  
  By JL Bogenschneider
  
  When Sam had gone to the park that day, Mr Askcombe was waiting for him. “I’ve got something to show you,” he said, holding out a mass of string and fabric. “Have you ever flown a kite before?”
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• Sisyphus
  
  By Michael Wass
   
  To my amazement, when I got to where I thought I would find the dog smashed to pieces, he was sitting there, tongue lapping against his chops, completely unharmed. And beside him was a body.
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• Trivial Pursuits
  
  By Gillian Garnham
  
  Three well-upholstered women of more than mature years were sitting in the warm autumn sunshine in leafy Hertfordshire. ‘Didn’t your Gerard end his acts with a song?’ Mavis dared to ask, dying to rake up a bit more muck if she could. ‘Didn’t he do a double act?’
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• Smiley Faces
  
  By Helen Holmes
  
  Jack Sprat and his wife materialise every Monday morning. Nine thirty-five. Same time, same order. Groundhog Day. But what does Jack do between ten-thirteen and ten-forty-seven while his wife's eating her full English?
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• Still Waters Run Deep
  
  By Charles Donachy
  
  For years as young sea scouts they were doughty sailors in a skimpy flat-bottomed coble, even out in the choppy river estuary. But today they were alone in a stolen MOD midget submarine and not another soul knew.
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• Advantages of a Meticulous Scheme
  
  By Marianne Archbold
  
  That’s what I loved about him first. He always had a plan. Everyone else would be sitting round the boardroom table, yelling, chewing their fingernails or pulling at their hair, but he stayed calm. He always saved the day.
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• The Golden Fur
  
  By Karon Alderman
  
  Eileen is on the floor of the car, as close to the driver’s seat as she can get, on tenterhooks. Lil is looking out of the window, half annoyed yet still listening. “The cheek of it,” she keeps saying, in her head, “the bare-faced lies he tells.” But she is smiling, smiling and watching her smile, floating in the window glass as they eat up the miles.
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