If the public don't have the discipline to watch what they put into their mouths then the state is just going to have to do it for them... "The lines are always long but no one ever complains about that. It’s to be expected. After all, this service is provided by the government. More than that, it’s for our own good.I shuffle along in the queue. The girl behind the plexi-glass window sees me out the corner of her eye and continues to monitor her customer’s products but I know she is thinking about me. The way she purses her lips gives away her disgust. The buzzer sounds and customer 4572 inserts his card into the payment slot. No unauthorised items. His units are deducted, his items are dispatched into suitable biodegradable packaging and off he goes. Relief obvious on his jowly face."
Queen of Clubs
Living alone, currently unemployed, behind with the rent and with only sour milk and mouldy cheese left in the fridge, Henry Merriweather tells himself that “It’s just the usual modern male condition.” Mundane matters don’t concern him greatly because he is on a mission to form a union with his dream woman, the Queen of Clubs. From the standard deck of playing cards. A taut, witty and moving urban fantasy. "Henry Merriweather had been playing Patience for two hours. He shuffled the pack again, flicking the edges of the two stacks and then gradually re-uniting them. It had taken him ages to master this trick. At first he had been all fingers and thumbs but now he was as adept as any croupier. He was somewhere around thirty; possibly nearing forty. Or maybe he had already crossed even that threshold. It depended on his audience: welfare benefits official, local council departments, potential employer or possible girlfriend. He was seeking his perfect woman. He assumed that most men were doing the same..."
No One Ever
“Many who waded through the water coloured it with their blood, wine-red – a new meaning for the wine-dark sea of legend…” The battle of Marathon, fought in a time of treachery, danger and intense fear and superstition, was a military disaster for the Persians. But it was not the end of danger for Greece, and the courier’s famous triumphant journey, commemorated in the Olympic race, carried a frightening secret: “His own shadow, long and thin in front of him, was like a rope pulling him towards Athens; as he neared his destination so it gradually shortened, so the sun rose, so the enemy fleet moved towards Phalerum.” What of the Athenian runner himself? Surely, there was no way he could have known how his feat would be celebrated: “Thousands upon thousands of people running. In all the known world, and even lands beyond.” He would surely not have known or cared how fast he was running. And he would not have been able to predict that two messengers, not one, would be named in the annals. Or would he?
The Queen In Red: Welcome To My Truth
Liam A. L
A Fan Fic based on The Red Queen from Lewis Carroll's 'Alice In Wonderland'; The Red Queen has forever had a reputation for being heartless, yet is that truly what she is? Does she not perhaps care for the people who have grown to loathe her?
What if the dead could apologise for leaving you? "The first thing you have to take in – if you're fairly young, that is – what you have to try to imagine is a world where people never heard anything from anyone among the departed. There was no message, not of any type … So, from a world in which there was no such communication, to one in which sooner or later just about everyone would get word. When the phone calls started it was amazing…"
Somebody for Everybody
How he had knocked, Francine could not guess. But here he was. Or at least here was his head. Floating in the hallway outside her apartment, as if it had wafted over on the aroma of Mrs. Singh’s stir fry. Here was the sun-kissed face from his Match.com profile. The broad forehead and faintly hooked nose. Somehow, though, it had seemed like the head would be attached to an equally rugged, sun-kissed body. Had it been presumptuous to assume, at the very least, a torso?