The Sage kept the book hidden, the last of its kind, saved from the cull of the Guardians of Knowledge. One day her words would tell the truth. One day her kin would rise again.
By the time her great-grandchildren found the secret panel, the pages had turned to dust.
Lesley Bungay writes short fiction as an antidote to writing and editing novels. Her words are online with Wensum Lit, Paragraph Planet, and 101 Words as well as 50 Word Stories. See more on X, Instagram, and Threads.
She doesn’t believe in magic; it’s all deceit and illusion, like his promises. But when tiny fingers grasp hers, a mysterious force flows through her. What sorcery is this? she wonders. Two deep blue eyes gaze into hers. We don’t need him, they seem to say. You can do this.
Lesley also has short fiction published online at 101 Words, Paragraph Planet, and Wensum Lit, as well as a number of competition anthologies. She grew up in the North East and now lives in Hampshire.
For years she lay awake, listening for the return of fledglings burning the candle late. The turn of a key, the creak of the stair. Needing to know they were home safe before her own eyes could rest. Now flown, their phantom clicks and shadow steps still haunt her slumber.
Lesley also has short fiction published online at 101 Words, Paragraph Planet and Wensum Lit, as well as a number of competition anthologies. She grew up in the North East and now lives in Hampshire.
Clara listens to their laughter, forces her own. Sips her wine as they swig theirs. She gauges the right moment to make her excuse, feigns a yawn—it’s been a wild week, hasn’t it?
At home, alone, Clara lies in the dark, calms her breathing. Being absolutely fine is exhausting.
Lesley also has short fiction published online at 101 Words, Paragraph Planet, and Wensum Lit, as well as a number of competition anthologies. She grew up in the North East and now lives in Hampshire.
The artist places the unfinished portrait on the easel.
“Your decision,” he says.
Esme stares at the flawless features, feels a yearning for this vibrant youth – her face full of expectation.
Yet what is a life lived without the experience shown?
“Paint every line, every blemish, every scar,” she says.
Lesley Bungay wrote this story.
The home-delivered lunch attracts flies, their buzz mingling with meaningless TV chatter, the remote beyond the reach of stiffened limbs. She smiles from the photo, her satin shoes skimming the floor, dizzy with love. It’s been nine years since they danced. The clock chimes. Another three hours until supper arrives.
Lesley Bungay grew up in the North-East and now lives in Hampshire. She writes short fiction as an antidote to querying her debut novel. Her words are published in ‘Time’ HG Wells anthology, The Rabbit Hole 5, and online with Wensum Lit, Paragraph Planet and 101 Words. Follow her on Twitter/Instagram at @LesleyjayneB.