Short Stories – Page 2 – Hugh's Views & News

A Safe Place For Keeping #flashfiction

Published on Jan 18, 2020Nov 17, 2025 by Hugh W. Roberts56 Comments

“It may look old and unused, but this is where they are kept.”

“You better be right, Sargent. It has taken us a long time not only to find this place but also to get here. Our troops need to rest tonight. I recommend we rest and plan our attack in the morning.”

***

12 hours later.

“We’re lucky to have found somewhere they think it is safe to store their data. Most of them never think twice about losing everything. Not everything is safe, but they should have done all they could to keep it safe and secure. The troops are ready, Commander.”

‘Good. On my command, we will begin the attack and wipe out most of the world of blogging from the face of this planet. We may be small and invisible to most, Sargent. Still, we are evolving and becoming more resilient against whatever virus software they throw at us.”

“Commander, let us hope that not many of them have ever backed up their blogs. And of those that do, let us hope they did it once and then forgot to do any further backups. Troops, on my command, let us attack and infect WordPress. ATTACK!”

Written in response to the #writephoto challenge hosted by Sue Vincent at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo.

Layout, content, settings, and format might differ on self-hosted blogs.

Follow Hugh on social media. Click the buttons below.

Honeymoon #flashfiction

Published on Jan 11, 2020Nov 17, 2025 by Hugh W. Roberts90 Comments

January 9, 2019, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about a carried wife. Why is she being carried? Who is carrying? Pick a genre if you’d like and craft a memorable character. Go where the prompt leads!

While carrying his new wife over the threshold of the honeymoon suite, Doug’s eyes lit up at the size of the massive bed in front of him.

Those pillows were big enough to suffocate his new wife for cheating on him.

***

Landing on the bed, Sophie looked at her new husband and wondered how long it would be before the spiked drink she had made Doug consume, would knock him out cold so she could spend the night with Mike, Doug’s best friend.

***

Two floors below, Mike wondered which of the newlyweds would be joining him in bed tonight.

Written in response to the 99-word flash fiction challenge hosted by Charli Mills at the Carrot Ranch.

Click here to join other writers who are participating in the challenge.

Front Page Splash #flashfiction

Published on Jun 12, 2019Dec 29, 2025 by Hugh W. Roberts38 Comments

London, May 1965

All his fears had come true. Had it been worth it? Yes. But here it was splashed all over the front pages of every newspaper.

As a single, 33-year-old, man who had just been elected as a member of parliament, the woman he had slept with had done all the hard work in persuading him to have a sexual relationship with her. He wondered how long it would be before the police came to arrest him.

As he lay back on the bed, he questioned if there was a parallel universe where heterosexuality was not illegal.

Written in response to the 99-word flash fiction challenge with the theme of ‘splash’, hosted by Charli Mills at the Carrot Ranch.

Image Credit: Charli Mills

Click here to join hundreds of other writers who have taken up the challenge.

Note: The Sexual Offences Act 1967 is an Act of Parliament in the United Kingdom (citation 1967 c. 60). It decriminalised homosexual acts in private between two men, both of whom had to have attained the age of 21.

The Global Warming Effect #flashfiction

Published on Jun 3, 2019Dec 29, 2025 by Hugh W. Roberts39 Comments

Strawberries and mint! She’d forgotten to order them.

The local shop was too far away to go and get any before her first guests arrived.

A few years ago, she would have gone out into her garden and picked both. How sad that the return of global warming had since not only turned her green garden into a dusty, bone-dry desert but had also robbed her of her love for gardening.

Looking out of her kitchen window, onto the vast martian landscape, she asked herself again if the human race would ever learn the lessons of their past mistakes.

Written in response to the 99-word flash fiction challenge with the theme of ‘strawberries and mint’, hosted by Charli Mills at the Carrot Ranch.

Click here to join hundreds of other writers who have taken up the challenge.

David And The Monster

Published on May 28, 2019Dec 29, 2025 by Hugh W. Roberts41 Comments

All had been quiet in David’s garden. In fact, everything was perfect. Even all the people he’d just been chatting to around the big table had seemed happy.

However, after a particularly busy morning, he’d come out into his back garden to get some fresh air and to take in the perfection he thought he had created over the last six years.

While walking into some shade, to stop the hot sun from melting his face (climate change was something else David needed to tackle), the beautiful little house, he liked to call his ‘man cave’, had come into view.

He hadn’t been down there for some time, ever since he had discovered the monster at the bottom of his garden. His so-called friend, Nigel, had claimed he had created the monster. How David had managed to get Nigel’s horrible monster into his ‘man cave’ all on his own, he had no idea.

“Should I go and listen by the door?” David had asked himself. “It should be dead by now because it hasn’t eaten anything since I locked it in there.”

Creeping quickly towards the door of his man cave (to stop the sun melting his face), David had put his ear close to the door and listened intensely, but all he had heard was birdsong and the faint sound of traffic.

“Hello. Are you dead, Mr Monster?” David had whispered, but his question had been met with no response from inside the man cave.

Taking a key out of his trouser pocket, David had carefully unlocked the door and turned the handle. As it had creaked open, the monster inside had made its move and burst through. It wasn’t long before David had been gobbled up and never heard from again.

“Yum, yum” the Brexit Monster had growled, “a tasty human man. I do hope my next meal is a female human.”

***

(Almost) Three years later

All had been quiet in Theresa’s garden. In fact, in her eyes, everything was going to be perfect. But what was in that strange little building, the previous owner, David, had called his man cave, at the bottom of the garden of 10 Downing Street?

Written in response to the #writephoto challenge hosted by Sue Vincent at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo.

Growing Older

Published on May 14, 2019Dec 29, 2025 by Hugh W. Roberts45 Comments

She sat, watching the world around her getting older, her included. It had been a rather tough day and she disliked what ageing did to her.

I may be wiser, she thought, but I feel like I’m on my last few breaths before I leave this world again. I don’t want to go, but know it is time to move on.

As she sat back to take in the last sight of the world she loved, a door behind her opened and slammed loudly.

“Move over, Saturday. The day of rest has arrived. See you in a week’s time.”

Written in response to the 99-word flash fiction challenge with the theme of ‘growing older’, hosted by Charli Mills at the Carrot Ranch.

Click here to join hundreds of other writers who have taken up the challenge.

Hot Dates

Published on May 9, 2019Dec 29, 2025 by Hugh W. Roberts72 Comments

Warning – adult content.

He was the perfect example of everything she’d been looking for. With the body of Adonis and the smile of Casanova, Mary Daniels knew she was in for a good time.

He had sat her down on the bed and allowed her to undo the buttons on the white dress shirt he wore. Something down below had stirred within her as she undid the fifth button and got a glimpse at what lay beneath the white shirt. Not yet, she had told herself, let the excitement build and take in every single second of the anticipation of what was to come.

When she had looked up into his dark eyes, as she undid the last visible button of his shirt, she had imaged that he was communicating with her telepathically. ‘Go on’, said his voice in her head, ‘pull up the remainder of my shirt so you can undo the final few buttons.’

As Mary Daniels pulled up his shirt and undid the last few buttons, the passion inside her had almost exploded. After watching him slowly removing the expensive, gold cufflinks that had held the shirt cuffs in place, she had stood up and gently pushed the shirt off his shoulders. Before her had stood absolute perfection.

Having pushed her back onto the bed, Mary had watched as the hunk undid the belt of his trousers. She had slowly licked her lips as his trousers dropped to the floor revealing a weapon of mass destruction behind a pair of black, Lonsdale boxer shorts. He really must have found her as attractive as she did him if he was going to use it on her.

Several minutes later as he picked up the $500 left on the bedside table of the hotel room, Mary Daniels was dead.

As he dressed, no emotions passed through his mechanical brain. His job was to now get the money back to his creator, change his appearance by shift-shaping, and await the next call to the ‘Hot Dates’ Escort Agency.

Who would he be next, and who would be his next victim?

Written in response to the May Speculative Fiction prompt hosted by D. Wallace Peach at Myths of the Mirror. Click here to join hundreds of other writers who have taken up the challenge.

Where Unicorns Come From #flashfiction

Published on Apr 30, 2019Dec 29, 2025 by Hugh W. Roberts44 Comments

“Come on, I’ll show you where unicorns come from,” said a convincing, eight-year-old, Tracy.

“Is it very far?” asked her best friend, Allison.

“No, just a few minutes’ walk, over to that small wood,” Tracy pointed out. “The grown-ups won’t miss us. We’ll only be gone for a few minutes.”

As the two young girls walked away, their parents enjoyed a picnic that included several bottles of sparkling, English, white wine. Helped by the warm sunshine of a late summers’ day, the laughter and merriment that filled the meadow made the slow disappearance of the girls go unnoticed.

“This is the place,” Tracy decided, as she peered towards a leafy, green glade, at the centre of which was an old, moss-covered stone trough.

“But where are the unicorns?” asked Allison. “I can’t see them.”

“In there,” responded Tracy, as she pointed towards the old, moss-covered stone trough. “Go on, have a look,” she smiled, as she gently pushed the girl who was one month younger than her towards the trough.

Taking a few quick steps towards the moss-covered stone relic, a slightly chilly breeze blew through the red ribbon that sat on top of golden curls that always bobbed up and down whenever Allison accelerated from a gentle walking pace. With goosebumps populating her bare arms, she peered down into the shallow trough.

“I can’t see any unicorns, only green stuff and a few yellow leaves,” sighed Allison.

“You’re not looking closely enough,” laughed Tracy, as she walked towards Allison. “Can’t you see the rainbow coloured horn of the baby unicorn poking through?”

Placing her hands on her knees, Allison bent forward to take a closer look, but couldn’t see any evidence of a rainbow coloured horn.

“No,” replied, Allison. “All I can see is green stuff and a few fallen leaves.”

“Oh, you won’t find the unicorns in there,” came a voice that startled both girls. “I’ve moved them all to a safe place. It’s unsafe for them in there.”

Turning around, both girls raised their hands to protect their eyes from the glare of the sun that occasionally flashed through the branches of the trees that surrounded the old trough.

“I’m the Unicorn Keeper,” declared the figure with a long grey beard, and who Tracy thought looked like a wizard. “The unicorns are all safe. I can take you to them in my magical vehicle if you like? It’s just over the hill on the other side of the meadow. Come on, take my hands and I’ll take you to them,” he said, as he turned to walk away in a direction that would take the girls out-of-sight of their parents.

Several minutes later, as the two unicorn-loving girls walked hand in hand with the stranger who seemed like a very nice wizard, he told them stories of a magical place he was taking them to, where nice things were about to happen, and where there would be unlimited ice-cream.

Written in response to the #writephoto challenge hosted by Sue Vincent at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo.

The Porthole

Published on Mar 20, 2019Dec 29, 2025 by Hugh W. Roberts74 Comments

Everybody has a chance, but it does depend on where you are at the time it appears. I only say that because I am sure I have seen some of the faces here, before. Like, for example, your face.

Now, as we watch the young child take her chance to join us, I will do all I can to make sure she makes it in time, but I need your help too.

What I have created now looms in front of her. If this had been happening a few years ago, I would have had full control over how long the porthole on our spaceship would remain open. Now, however, my power over my creation seems to be weakening.

Even though I know life has been cruel to this child, you’re not so sure, are you?

From what I have witnessed, this child will be a credit to both of us. And, as our world is dying, we need all the souls we can get to build our army.

“Run, child, run,” I shout, as she nears the opening. But you remain silent. Why?

We need her to help save our world. Don’t you see that?

My heart drops when I see the porthole begin to close. I can hear my followers behind me screaming, yet you remain silent. I hope the child makes it through in time.

With a mighty leap, she makes it through before it closes.

“Daddy,” she whispers, as she wraps her arms around my waist. I could tell she now felt safe.

“Now go, child, go do all the bad things you really meant to do when you were on that world. No more being good and trying to make yourself acceptable because of what others told you. The world you have just left was too cruel to you.”

As she looks up at me and smiles, I know she will not fail me.

“Thank you, Father. I always wanted to meet the Devil and come to Hell.”

***

Written in response to the Monthly Speculative Fiction Writing Prompt, from Diana, at Myths of the Mirror. Click here for full details.

The Battle

Published on Feb 14, 2019Dec 29, 2025 by Hugh W. Roberts66 Comments

With the dead bodies of her two best friends close by, eleven-year-old Miranda carefully raised one of the window slats with her finger and peered out into the garden.

She watched as the massive creature, known as a Nellyphant, pushed its trunk against the tree house looking for its next meal. Although it was snowing, she could also make out the smaller creatures, known as Mickice, on the roof of the treehouse. They, too, had grown a liking for human flesh.

Miranda’s trap, of leaving her dolls in the treehouse, had worked. The creatures thought they had their next meal, but Miranda knew it wouldn’t be long before they worked out that they had been tricked.

While sliding her hand slowly between the window slats, the door behind Miranda creaked. She froze to the spot, terrified of what was coming into the room. However, she had her weapon ready in her other hand, so she knew she had a good chance of spinning around, taking aim, and killing with one shot whatever was coming through the door.

As she quietly counted down from five, she heard whatever it was, slowly approach her. The wheezing sound it made as it took short, sharp, intakes of breath, made the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

Just before her countdown ended, Miranda gripped her weapon firmly, span around, took aim, and faced what was behind her.

“Take this,” she yelled, as she fired her weapon at the biggest Nellyphant she’d seen.

Then the real world appeared.

“OK, young lady, that’s enough,” coughed Miranda’s Mother, while removing the PlayStation virtual reality headset from Miranda’s head. “You’re too young to be playing this violent videogame,” she voiced while holding the box of the game in front of Miranda’s face. “Go play with your dolls instead.”

As Miranda climbed the stairs in protest, her mother blew her nose before slipping on the virtual reality set. Maybe playing a video game would take her mind off the head cold she had.

***

Written in response to the Monthly Speculative Fiction Writing Prompt, from Diana, at Myths of the Mirror. Click here for full details.