THE EYE
Tommy stood in the bathroom brushing his teeth. Gazing into the mirror he admired his cropped blond hair and (in his opinion) a handsome set of features. Averting his eyes to his Power Rangers pyjamas his mind drifted to that glorious day when he could be just like his heroes. His mum had promised him that next year, after his seventh birthday he could take up karate lessons. He held the tube of toothpaste in both hands and outstretched his arms. Gazing into the mirror. He stood bow-legged and yelled “Go Power Rangers” in a voice as deep and husky as he could manage.
THE LOST LOVE OF WAR
The young soldier embraced his fiancée and planted a soft kiss upon her forehead as they stood on the beach waiting for Higgins Boat, the troop-carrying landing craft that would take the young man and the other soldiers to fight the second world war. Shared tears fell between them as they said their goodbyes, knowing that it would be the last time they would see each other till after the war. The soldier wiped the tear from his fiancée’s eye as he promised they would marry the moment he returned.
THE PERFECT MURDER
Nick was sat down at his desk working away on his new story. Hiding on the balcony was a man holding a scarf. As Nick typed the man slowly crept out from his hiding place. The man’s eyes were glazed and his staggering walk indicated he was drunk. With a sudden leap forward, he wrapped the scarf around Nick’s neck from behind and the two started a struggle. As Nick fell to the floor the man released the scarf and smiled at him.
THE THREE LITTLE PICKERS
Once upon a time there were three little pickers, Sallie, Kathy and Alison, who worked for Sweat Shop Ltd. The three pickers loved to spend all day rushing around with their picking trucks, working hard, in the hope of gaining one hundred PI or more for a paltry bonus to top up their measly excuse for a wage. At break times they would often be seen gossiping in the canteen about the usual crap women gossip about, fashion, soap operas and big willies. Despite being made to slog their guts out by a boss that lacked any form of empathy, the three pickers were very happy.
THE WALLET
Jack Waite, a small-time crook, was hiding behind a large skip in a dark alley. The rain lashed down and he pulled his jacket tightly around him as he shivered in the cold. He threw the smouldering remains of his cigarette onto the damp ground and stamped it out with his heel. He trembled. Not only with the cold but also with fear. The fear shook violently in his chest as he recalled the evil deed he was about to commit.