Liars' League

By Appointment by Lauren Van Schaik

Read by Lizzie Muncey

Daphne slammed “dial” the millisecond her clock flipped to 8am, and counted breaths as the call connected and the familiar robotic voice was patched in: “You’ve reached the Broad Street Surgery. Good luck!”

She couldn’t slow her speeding heart, imagining the thousands of other aspiring patients listening to the same menu. Mothers with spotted children, elderly folk who’d fallen and couldn’t get up, people anxiously rubbing suspicious lumps. Did she deserve an appointment more than them? She added tachycardia and poor self-esteem to the list of symptoms she maintained on her laptop. Yes, she fucking did deserve it.

 

A Covert Affair by Bronia Flett

Read by David Vickery

The house nestles on the cliff-side, tucked between ocean and pine forest. John stands on the doorstep, hands in pockets, watching the black shape crossing the sand far below. The shape moves closer, takes the form of a man.

For the first time in years, John craves a cigarette – if only to stop his teeth from chattering. The sun climbs in the sky but the sweat of exertion is cooling rapidly on John’s skin. He is too old. He shouldn’t have volunteered. He remembers the look that passed between his superiors, but in the end they’d all agreed.

It was John’s job to finish it.

He Brings Me Birds by Cheryl Powell

Read by Grace Cookey-Gam

My lover used to bring me birds. He caught them with his quick claws, pouncing and ripping off their heads with his sharp, feline teeth, their feathery bodies bleeding into the carpet. I felt triumphant, a queen. He just wanted to please me.

‘I love you,’ he purred and brushed against my legs, his fur soft as syrup. I looked at him then, lustfully, at his whiskers and claws, at the gliding machinery of his hips and spine, his innate desire to kill. I desired him as animal, and man. Both, at once.

 

We Have Nothing to Hide by Jennifer Gaboury

Read by Clareine Cronin

Hair of the dog, from a covert flask. Forty-seven minutes past the hour. The oven will ping merrily at any moment. He’ll stroll through the door beaming, stow his briefcase, peck my cheek, regale me with benign office gossip. I’ll reciprocate with a recitation of my day, which is every day.

And the G.O.D. will be pleased. And SIA will hibernate to conserve battery.

“Honey — ” Showtime. “I’m home!”

 

Gorgeous by Al Crow

Read by Patsy Prince

The first time I had sex in a bookshop was chance. I was downstairs with my boyfriend-at-the-time. He, Marcus, was into music memoirs. Tales of high-jinx and substance-abuse. The sort of thing this place kept in the basement. Anything that had been scrawled out on top of a guitar case by a real rocker. Not Moby, if you get me. Not Fat Boy Slim. This was the early 2000s, and like his heroes, Marcus thought himself a player. He was a fair bit older than my not-so-innocent twenty-five and he wore a leather jacket perpetually. In many ways, I was the product of my all-girl upbringing and that meant I was game. That’s what Marcus saw in me. A young woman with a manageable element of damage blended with a compulsion to rebel.

24 Ways to Leave your Lover by Andreas Paraskevaides

Read by Carrie Cohen

ONE Locate a dictionary. Open the dictionary. Flip the pages to the word “leave”. Follow instructions carefully.

TWO Enter a room and sit comfortably. Raise your hands in front of your face, palms up facing inwards. Cover both eyes fully. No peeking. When you hear your lover enter the room, maintain this posture and refrain from replying to your lover’s queries. You may sing a lullaby to yourself, provided you are familiar with one. If no lullaby comes to mind, you may sing the looping lyrics of your current earworm. In the unlikely scenario that no earworm is available, hum tirelessly and tunelessly. When your lover leaves the room, you have left your lover.