25 Saturday Dec 2021
Posted in Flash Fiction, publications, Uncategorized
Tags
amreading, amwriting, children, christmas, Flash Fiction, grief, loss, publication, retribution, Santa Claus, stories, toy shop, writerscommunity
A dark Christmas story, published at the Punk Noir Magazine last year. Many thanks to author Paul D. Brazill.
Season’s Greetings and best wishes for a wonderful Christmas and a Happy New Year. 🙂
09 Sunday May 2021
Posted in blog post, Flash Fiction, publications, Uncategorized
Tags
amreading, amwriting, art, BosphorusReview of Books, children, colours, Flash Fiction, flowers, grandchildren, hospital, illness, images, light, light beams, loneliness, memories, muteness, nursing home, old age, paintings, paralysis, publication, scents, writerscommunity, yearning
My flash fiction story, Light Beams , is in the May Issue of The Bosphorus Review of Books. Many thanks to the Editor-in-Chief, Luke Frostic.
Happy Mother’s Day!
Thanks for reading! 🙂
https://bosphorusreview.com/light-beams
“Our cover this month is by our returning artist Dj Nio – Mammaliturki. find more of his work here https://www.djnio.net and listen to his latest music here https://soundcloud.com/nio_zeroplastica or here https://open.spotify.com/artist/0nKgLLvnDxOqzmxmBLrAl6…“
27 Sunday Dec 2020
Posted in blog post, Flash Fiction, publications, Uncategorized
Tags
amreading, amwriting, child offence, children, christmas, fairy tales, Flash Fiction, grief, hunter, loss, publication, Punk Noir Magazine, revenge, Santa Claus, toy shop, toys
Many thanks to the Editor in Chief, Paul D. Brazill, for publishing my story, The Hunter at Punk noir Magazine.
Season’s Greetings and wishes for much health and prosperity in the New Year! 🙂
The Hunter
Blanche stood before the cheval mirror and adjusted her fur hat. Tucking wayward curls inside the headpiece, she buttoned her fitted long coat, and picked up her gloves.
Fat snowflakes dancing like butterflies greeted her as she stepped into the street lined with terraced houses. She pulled up her collar, and glided over the soft mounds on the pavement. Warm lights pouring from windows and lamp posts illuminated the blanket of snow which muffled the sounds of traffic and footsteps. A postcard scene, as though time had stopped. Turning left at the bottom of the road, Blanche continued towards the High Street.
Loaded with bags, Christmas shoppers headed in all directions. Passengers stepped onto or off red, double-decker buses along the main street decorated with colourful lights. Children fascinated by displays, stuck their faces on the windows of the Toy Shop as their parents pulled them away while…
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30 Tuesday Oct 2018
Posted in Flash Fiction, Uncategorized
Many thanks to Eva Wong Nava and the beautiful CarpeArte Journal for publishing my story, Shadows. I’m honoured and delighted to contribute to this wonderful magazine. 
08 Monday May 2017
Posted in Flash Fiction, Uncategorized
Tags
adventure, alternate universe, beliefs, children, circular, curiosity, experience, experiment, flat earth, herbs, moon, nature, patience, proof, questioning mind, rotation, round, sun, theories, time, universe
A large gilt framed painting dominates one wall of the Mystical Plains School’s Assembly Hall. A scene of an idyllic valley, surrounded by a narrow body of water which cascades down a steep fall, sweeping the sailboats and people at its end into the deep void. Children watch the painting and wonder. Sometimes they dream of falling into the great beyond and disappearing, forever.
Aloe fluttered her long eyelashes and pursed her lips. “I want to see The End of the World.”
“Are you mad?” Basil said. “You’ll fall off the edge.”
“Why would I? Won’t you come with me to discover new herbs and prove the theory?”
Although Aloe and Basil were the same age, Basil, being a ten-year-old boy, was more naive than his female friend. “What theory?” He rolled his eyes.
“That the earth is flat, as grownups say in Mystical Plains. And as it’s shown in the painting.”
“It is flat, also the sky is flat.”
“How about proving it? We’ll stop when we come to the end.”
“Are you sure about this? We don’t know how far it is.”
Aloe twisted a long strand of her celadon mane around a finger and shrugged.
“Only one way to find out. Meet me here tomorrow at dawn. Bring a sandwich and some fruit. Also, your notebook and crayons. We can draw the herbs we find on the way and collect samples. What say you?”
“What do we say to our parents?”
“Say it’s a school project. It’s true.”
“Good idea.”
“Great!” Aloe planted a kiss on Basil’s cheek and scurried away, the skirts of her pale green dress swaying in the breeze.
Basil could never refuse her. She was the most beautiful and clever girl in the Plains. Proud to be her best friend, he always relented to her whims, and she had many.
At dawn, they set off on their journey. Aloe pulled the hood of her olive cape over her hair. Fizzy jade curls that escaped the grip of Basil’s wide-brimmed hat bounced on his cheeks in tune with his quick step.
As sunlight burned away the chill of the spring morning, green fields spread out forever in their view. Basil was good at drawing, Aloe with writing the descriptions and colouring. They stopped several times to examine new finds and added them to their scrapbook.
When the sun was high in the sky, they rested for lunch and shared the fruit. Aloe figured they’d been on their journey for six hours. They’d need another six to return to the village before dark. She shaded her eyes with her hand and perused the surroundings. Eternal green without an end, but The End of the World nowhere in sight. She looked towards the way they came. There was no sign of the village or any familiar sights, nor the trees they’d marked as they moved on.
Biting the apple in her hand, Aloe pondered. “We must head back now and find our path in daylight. I don’t think we’ll reach The End of the World today.”
She studied the fruit closely. “I have an idea. Let’s see if it will work. Look at this apple. It’s round. If you were a tiny insect on it,” she picked up an ant and placed it on one side of the apple, “you wouldn’t be able to see the other side, would you?”
“No,” Basil said, eager to hear the rest.
“But if you keep moving towards the other side, you’ll be there and see it. That’s why we can’t see the village or The End of the World from here. It’s beyond our view. If it were flat, we’d see it.”
“Are you saying it’s a false theory?”
“Yes, but we’ll have to prove it. Let’s go back the same way, and see how the view improves as we get closer.”
Re-tracing their steps, making note of the landmarks, they resumed their hunt for various herbs. Three hours later, they had another break, and shared cookies and a slice of cake. Though they looked back and searched for the spot where they’d stopped for lunch, they could see no further than the forest in midway.
Aloe muttered pensively. “There is no End of the World. It doesn’t end, but continues.”
After two more hours of trekking and drawing, the village appeared in the distance. As the sky turned to shades of marigold and poppy, the sun began to sink behind the hills.
The amber beams of the sunset danced across Aloe’s green eyes and she sighed. “Maybe that’s why the sun and the moon are round. They don’t disappear, but go elsewhere.”
“But they will be back tomorrow,” Basil said, confident.
“The sun, definitely tomorrow, the moon to repeat its different phases next month.”
“Are we going to tell our parents?”
Aloe fiddled with the hem of her skirt. “Not yet. This is still a theory. I have to do more tests. Perhaps, we’ll keep it to ourselves for a while. Tell you what, let’s write down everything in a log, and wait until we’re old enough to prove it. Meanwhile, we have a beautiful scrapbook of different herbs to present to the teacher for our project.”
As twilight spread its velvet blanket over the Mystical Plains, Aloe and Basil chased each other down the road to their homes, their childish laughter filling the air with promise.
22 Friday Apr 2016
Posted in Flash Fiction, Uncategorized
Tags
air, blue planet, children, civilization, dreams, earth, fire, innocence, reality, the elements, the universe, water
A dark indigo sky, inhabited by granite clouds, blown by gusting winds and torrential rain. The water cascades down the hills, together with my tears of sorrow and joy. The valley is flooded, the forces of the elements wash everything down to the sea.
Stuck behind a tree trunk, I open my eyes and look around. An eerie silence. Behind me, the pine tree covered hills. Before me, the beach and the sea. Everything seems familiar, yet unfamiliar. Nothing manmade is left in sight. Only nature, as it was created. The vast waters resemble a lake, not a single ripple disturbing its surface. As though time has stopped.
The clouds have disappeared and a golden ball of light dominates the azure sky. Sunrays touch my skin. I am naked, the way I was born. Vulnerable and lonely. Do I remember that moment? My memories of that instant are not clear, but I feel the solitude and the despair deep down in my heart. The pain of that first breath, a cry in the void. I am frightened in these alien surroundings.
I have no belongings now. The memories, the only baggage I am allowed to take with me.
Am I the last person on the Blue Planet or the first one in a new world?
What about civilization, everything we have built and done? Have they all been washed to the sea? The heritage we wanted to leave behind, the traces of our existence, to make a difference, to be remembered by and recognized. The untamed part of the human ego. As if the universe cares whether we make a difference or not.
Progress, heaven and hell at the same time. Creation and destruction. Yet, nothing manmade is more powerful than the forces of nature, orchestrating life and death simultaneously, and recreating life from death, through the eternal cycle.
I hear the lullaby of waves. The water starts to move. A warm breeze sweeps across my face. A flock of birds appears in the sky and flies towards the horizon in a perfect V. The perpetual motion begins. The earth beneath me stirs, then rocks and continues, vibrating in sporadic tremors. The breeze turns into a wind, then an angry storm. The branches of trees bend and bow to the ground at the whim of the great force. Lava gushes out from the centre of Gaia, red-hot. It flows like a river down the mountains and across the plains, melting everything on its path, destroying and creating at the same time. I try to hold onto the tree, with all my might, but I’m weak. My fingers give in, and I go with the flow.
******
Faint voices in the background travel through the air. Then the most delightful sound in the universe. Children’s laughter. I open my eyes and scan my surroundings. I’m stretched out on a deckchair, under a parasol on the golden sand of the beach. My half-read book, lying on my chest.
A little boy and a girl are playing at the edge of the sea. They fill their tin buckets with water and empty them, giving each other generous showers. They giggle and yell, the wonder of life vibrant on their faces. No illusions or disillusionments. They have not yet been injected with fear and doubt. I pray for them to hold onto that childhood curiosity forever.
Then I remember my dream, that moment stolen from time. Was it a dream or reality? Life, as it seems, is painted before me, reflected in its three dimensional ingredients. Sound, light and depth. Is this an illusion I have created?
I pick up my belongings and head towards home. The laughter of children still in my ears.
I have no answers.
sebnemsanders 
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