Sunday, 30 December 2012


Go away
Get out
Get the hell out of here
Fuck off
Piss off
Scram, scoot, skedaddle
Just go
Am I talking to the wall or something.


Door slams.
Written for Trifextra week forty eight.


Thursday, 20 December 2012

Christmas Present

“For Johnny?”
“We got him a scooter.”
“And mummy?”
“We bought her some perfume, and new slippers.”
“Yes – hers are worn out. Do you think she’ll like these.”
“They’re purple! Her favourite colour. What about Brad?”
“Brad won’t be here this year. He’s still overseas. I sent him a food parcel and a beautiful jumper.”
“I thought he was going to be back for Christmas.”
“No, he’s doing an important job. He’s got to stay. We’ll see him soon.”
“I wish he was here.”
“Me too Pushki. Now, enough talk. Let’s finish decorating the tree and set the table.”

Copyright-Scott L. Vannatter
Written for Friday Fictioneers

Tuesday, 18 December 2012

Virtually Pure

The cost for bad thoughts, cheating, lying, blasphemy, not paying taxes, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. Insert generic sin. The currency, clearly defined. Our Fathers and Hail Marys. I sit behind the screen and listen. Make a price. Give penance, absolution, heal. Transaction done. Next please.

"Father, I have sinned...

Of course you have. Cut to the chase. You want the numbers, the price. No need for ritual or form. It’s all the same. I've heard it before. You've done it before.

Maybe we should simplify. Modernise. Get with the program. Time to put up a list, or a website. www.confessmysins.somethingorother. Period since last confession; click: Sins committed; menu: Number of repeats; click: Terms and conditions; check box: Disclaimer not necessary: Submit button; click: Are you sure; yes/no; click: Moving graphic: please wait; processing.

That will be two Hail Marys and one Our Father. Come back soon.