Liars' League

Evidence by Rosa Muller

Evidence MP3

Read by Annalie Wilson

Patrick burnt himself on a hot pan on Thursday night.

I heard the clatter, his shout, rushed towards the kitchen - stopped. I changed my mind and scooped Jamie up from the playpen first.

When I lifted up Jamie, something seemed to pass across his face for a moment. One of those strange seconds where I could see what he’d be like as a man.

“Why are you doing this Mama? It’s wrong,” he would say, if he could talk. Babies always think they know best.

The Heart's Filthy Desire by Tom Leins

The Heart's Filthy Desire MP3

Read by Tim Larkfield

The torrential rain sounds like gunfire as it clatters against the roof of the blood-coloured Austin Allegro. I wipe the condensation off the window and stare at the crumbling mansion. The building looks enormous – stretching as far as the eye can see in all directions. Half of the windows appear to be broken and the ancient brickwork looks chipped and rancid.

The driver – a bulbous elderly man in a shabby manservant’s suit – unclips his seat-belt and turns to face me.

“Shall we?” His Westcountry accent is thicker than cow-shit.

Landline by Renee Agatep

Landline MP3

Read by Keleigh Wolf

I pressed the faded mustard handset of the rotary phone to my ear. I always expect to hear that woman crying on the other side, the one who first called when we were nine, playing with a Ouija board in the living room.

Paul and Eli hadn’t stopped talking about it since they stole it from Walmart. We touched the planchette lightly and let it glide over the letters.

B-A-L-L-S.

“Get serious, Paul!”

“Fine. But if you want ghosts to talk, you gotta say something smart. Egghead, say something magic.”

The Last Place Anyone Looks by Rikk Hill

The Last Place Anyone Looks MP3

Read by Lin Sagovsky

“She was never… seen… again!”

The underside of Dot’s face was cast in a harsh yellow glow from the electric torch wedged between her knees. Some stories have no business being told with the lights on.

“They say she’s still there, all these years later,” Dot’s voice rasped, her eyes darting between the other three girls sitting in the circle. “And if anyone’s brave enough to play on the third floor of the east wing, they’ll hear little Harriet’s voice, taunting them: you’ll never find me .”

Dot drew a long, hissing breath, which blended seamlessly into absolute silence. All four girls cast skittish glances at one another as the silence began to overstay its welcome.

Handyman by George Aitch

Handyman MP3

Read by Sean Patterson

The café is cold, and blanketed masses huddle over steaming cups of weak tea. The bomb blast took out the windows, even in this hamlet miles from the target. Those of us who still have our sight read old newspapers and our bitterness grows. I while away my hours here now. You’ll find me at the back; the man with rough hands and heavy-lidded eyes on a pock-marked face. Not that I’d stand out from the rest with that description. One way or another, the fallout has carved its marks on all of us.

My sentry post is at the back tables, watching those who come and go. I never sit with my back to the door now. It’s some advice I’ve picked up lately, reading Malcolm X. He always took his seat where he could see the exit, just in case. My hobby breeding new paranoia.