Liars' League

Pearl Onions by Alex Edwards

Read by Dan Starkey (Final story in podcast, at 1h 35m 30s)

I never play golf. All that standing around with the chaps. The manly conversation. There’s nowhere to hide. A cad and bounder like myself is quickly discovered. Besides, it’s a skill game, where my natural advantages in speed and strength count for naught. It rewards patience and dedication: two attributes I lack.

Unfortunately, golf is rather the order of the day at Mandelieu, a little slice of England on the French Riviera. Luckily, they also have tennis, a game I vastly prefer. Don’t misunderstand me, I care nothing for tennis itself. But I do need a reason to be at Mandelieu, for my face to be seen by the right set, and they do serve excellent cocktails.

 

Pilgrim's Trail by Cecilia Maddison

Read by Rose Biggin (2nd story in podcast, at 21m 40s)

Mam warned me it would end badly. 

“He’s a violent man, Ciara,” she told me. “Look what happened to his wife. I don’t care how many years he’s been inside repenting, it’s only a matter of time before he raises his hand to you.”

I wouldn’t believe a word of it. “Michael’s changed,” I insisted. “He’s found God. He’d never harm a hair on my head.”

Now Mam’s lying dead at home with kitchen scissors roosting in her neck, and I don’t doubt that nosy social worker will have seen her body through the letterbox when no one answered the door this afternoon.

Everybody Wants London by Alix Owen

Read by Ray Newe (3rd story in podcast, at 37m 45s)

Before you know it, you’re ageing. 

And, in the confusion of it all, he’d let his toenails grow too long. He used to be, what, maybe good-looking? Now his skin was blotchy, dry, and he had dark crescents under his eyes. It seemed not that long ago he’d been a teenager, but he’d plucked a grey hair from his head just yesterday. His back ached. The heavy satchel that hung every day from work to home had lowered his shoulder. It was always so difficult to get a seat. He was on his feet all day. He’d lost weight, gained weight, his clothes never fit. They were scuffed, stretched. Fraying at the corners, there were loose threads. If you looked close enough, there were pale worn patches, soft spots, even buttons missing on second-hand designer items.

Certitude by Scott Tierney

Read by Silas Hawkins (1st story in podcast, at 1m 50s)

Three gunshots rang out across the night. None of us around the campfire flinched or looked up past the brims of our cutters. We didn't even slow our chewing.

The shots weren't anything unexpected. Pop-pop-pop, the signal we'd been waiting on. They told us that soon it'd be here – the Overnight Express. Brimmed, snorting, the glorious envoy of the big-shots. And to think – here! Here! In our crude and ungoverned wilderness! My, what a privilege! Right about now it was likely putting on a display of evolution for us Godfearing country folk, picking up a righteous head of steam. Like a rabbit running straight for the snare.

A Game of Musical Souls by Liam Hogan

Read by Tony Bell (5th story in podcast, at 1h 23m 50s)

Alex wasn't expecting any surprises when he cracked open the chest cavity of Francis Delegare - the final ‘e’ appended to the toe tag in green biro. He'd read the case notes: ninety-seven, keeled over in the street, suspected heart attack. But as he lifted the lungs onto a metal tray his Dictaphone commentary stumbled. Distractedly describing the old man’s calcified heart, his own pulse raced, and his attention was dragged away.

Francis Delegare’s soul was simply magnificent. Twice as large as those that usually passed through Alex’s jaded hands, and gleaming as only the best souls did, even this long after death. Alex felt a tug of envy, and of avarice. Twenty years ago he’d have got a sizeable sum for a soul this huge. That trade had been stamped out before his time as pathologist began. Though you still heard rumours ...

Brick by Brick by MJ Lee

Read by Nathan Unthank (4th story in podcast, at 1h 3min)

When I think of heaven, I imagine a vast room full of plastic bricks. Millions of them, shelves and drawers stretching to infinity; a rainbow library of possibility. Every element is there, every colour, shape, size and shade: tiles and baseplates, wedges and wheels, everything you need to make anything you could ever want. And all I have to do is build it.

Most kids never grow up to achieve their dreams: aspiring astronauts end up account-managers, dinosaur-hunters become driving-instructors, would-be YouTube superstars churn out unboxing videos sponsored by Poundland. But I’m lucky. All I ever wanted was to build Lego. And now I get to do it for a cash prize, on TV.