Red Roses by Hazel Campbell

Prompt: She never wanted it anyway | Wordcount: 300 | Genre:

For Bartel, flowers, especially roses were magical.  He couldn’t look at a rose with its perfection and not feel enchanted.

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The Blue Wagon by Annalie Kleinloog

Prompt : She never wanted it anyway | Word count : 300 | Genre:- Historical Fiction 

“Greenfield Wagons” – by Stephen Pryke

“You never wanted it anyway, Intombazane.” Lucas wiped the soot from his face. They watched the last of the wagon disappeared in embers.

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Sunday Night by Zita Fogarty

Prompt: She never wanted it anyway | Word count: 300 | Genre: General Fiction

I could make out Luke’s towering silhouette through the screen door, weaving in and out of view, and the family photo on the lounge room wall. I love that picture.

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SUBSTITUTE by Annalie Kleinloog

Prompt: Cut the Strings | Word count:1005 (I tried!) | Genre: 

Warning – adult content

Detail.  His palms sweat as he checks descriptions. 

Mike’s hand wavers an instant before hitting the ‘send’ button. He leans back and cups his head in his hands. The stretch feels good.  

Soon he can cut strings with his little problem.  Make it vanish.  Start a new life.

The rest of the week Mike fidgets around his desk but cannot work on that backlog glaring at him. He checks his phone more than usual, waiting for the confirmation-of-delivery bleep.  He stands up to stretch and looks at his colleagues; heads bent over their screens, logging the hours. He returns and pretends to work.

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Farmer Liberté’s potatoes by Tricia Ever

Prompt: The club | Word count: 750 | Genre: (Historical) Fiction

“This day, it is hot enough to melt your wife’s heart, Guillaume,” complained Auguste, wiping his forehead with a bandana from his pocket. His blond hair was darkened with sweat, his fair face flushed red by exertion and heat.

“Bah! My wife, she always runs warm, she. More than you could handle, Auguste!” protested his friend. “More than is good for her,” he muttered under his breath.

“Your wife is a fine looking woman, Guillaume. Many men in the village envy you. I include myself there.”

“You would all do better to tend to your own wives,” growled Guillaume, his dark whiskers practically bristling. “No good comes of poaching from another man, you will learn that, I promise you.”

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The Club by Zita Fogarty

Prompt: The Club | Word count: 750 | Genre: Adult Fiction

What is this – some kind of club?

Dad caught me, Dawson and Doherty behind the garage smoking a joint. He looked like he could kick someone he was so pissed off.

But I couldn’t stop giggling. All of a sudden that tough guy demeanor of his that usually made my armpits moist seemed ludicrous.

The other two bolted over the back fence. Dad stormed back to the sunroom where he had been watching the cricket.

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Secret Desires by Rachel Dye

Prompt: The Club | Word Count: 750 | Genre: General Fiction | Warning: Deals with adult themes and consenting sexual content

Sweat slid down Mike’s neck, and he adjusted his position. His hand still held the car door handle, yet his erection already begged for release. A dark figure slid through the club’s door and he quickly wiped his hands on his pants. He wanted this, begged for it, and yet cowardice crawled down his spine. He could go home, but still, he sat. There were some requests you could not unask your wife.

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Counsellor, Heal Thyself by Kathy Gates

Prompt: Coming Undone | Word count: 1200 | Genre: Women’s Contemporary

Laura covered the pages of her notepad with doodles.

Rod clicked his fingers in front of her face. ‘What did I just say?’

‘I’m sorry?’ She blinked.

‘Bloody waste of time. You’re about as much use as a—’ The door slammed.

Wonder if his wife will turn up for her session?

She stood at the window and stared at nothing. What’ll I do with the rest of the day? Can’t go home yet…

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The Almond Tree by Zita Fogarty

Prompt: Conversation with my spouse | Word count: 1200 | Genre: Adult Fiction

I looked for Jessie for over half an hour – bathroom, bedroom and front verandah, to see if he wanted some of the flapjacks I had just made. I got side-tracked watching a recording of the Oscars with Martin. The three of us were still on school and uni holidays, Mum and Dad at work.

He hung himself from the almond tree during the time that I had been looking. I found him there, still warm, swinging like a pendulum, the branch creaking in time with each movement. Though when we got him down he started to get cold very quickly. I tried CPR on him until the paramedics arrived but it was no use.

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