ONE HUNDRED “Senor Panciera was a deceitful man. He would steal bathrobes and silverware from the Plaza Hotel, where he worked as a doorman. He cheated at poker and ran a Cuban cigar smuggling racket with his cousin Hector. He even cheated on his wife of 30 years, Esmeralda, until one day, she discovered his affair with Anita Sanchez, a young maid at the hotel. He had promised her a green card and some expensive perfume. Meanwhile, Esmeralda prepared his favourite dish, rice and black beans, secretly, sprinkled with chopped Carolina Reaper, the Guinness Book of World Record’s hottest, deadliest chilli pepper.” Perihan Bozkurt, Lane Cove
‘We need to talk.’ Four words which strike fear into the hearts of grown men. Trouble was brewing. Melanie was not happy. Russell cringed. What was wrong now? They’d ‘talked’ last month. Everything was fine. Melanie always wanted to talk. She was fed up with being ignored, dismissed, taken for granted. ‘Don’t make it more complicated than it is, women. We’re men, we want food… and sex.’ Russell’s heartbeat elevated, his breathing sped up, he started to sweat. He scanned the perimeter for an escape route, and hared out the back door. Melanie might need to talk, but he didn’t. Bronwyn Campbell, Lane Cove
WORDS... My 95-year-old mum asked my sister to take her to the funeral of a friend. Arriving late, there were no orders of service left. Following the funeral, they attended the wake. As they munched on sandwiches and drank tea, a woman tapped mum on the shoulder and said, “Hello Dorothy”; Mum turned around and promptly turned ashen. When the woman finally left, mum informed my sister that she thought the woman whose funeral they had just attended was the one they were just speaking to. They hastily asked someone for the order of service to identify the correct deceased. Oops! Trish Sara, Lane Cove
TO ENTER Email your story with your name, address and phone number to editor@thevillageobserver.com.au CONDITIONS Stories must be exactly 100 words about any subject and in any writing style. They must be original and unpublished. There is no limit to the number of stories that you contribute during the year. Each month, selected entries will be published in TVO. At the end of the year, all entries will be judged based on their originality and creativity. THREE WINNERS WILL RECEIVE A $50 BURNS BAY BOOKERY VOUCHER.
Kat watched the dawn light up the Sydney skyline. On the balcony all seemed peaceful, and a fine haze veiled the sky after the night’s revelry. The penthouse party had petered out after 3am. She looked at the students scattered over chairs, lounge and floor with disgust. Tim wasn’t there. Probably on the bed next door with another conquest. Why had I been so stupid? Kat’s phone pinged – a Happy New Year message. She thought she had no more tears until she saw the familiar profile. "Mum..." Kat suppressed a sob, "I'm coming home... first plane I can get..." Anne Tavares, Lane Cove
If I could wrap this week into a sentence: "Breathe, drink water, feel the earth and let your spark guide the way." Mass on Sunday felt like my childhood. The burden was like the one put on me by my father. "Do what I say..." he says. He isn't listening when I talk about my feelings and my truth. No. This isn't the right climate for my inner child. Then I see my words in print here. All one hundred. Below them, Perihan Bozkurt's story of an encounter with Freddie Mercury. I know I'm in the right place. Eda Utku, Lane Cove
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