Liars' League

Manx by Jamey Genna

Read by Elizabeth Bower

My sister-in-law had a cat, a black cat with a square bulky body.  It didn’t have a tail.  It was what they call a Manx cat. I know you don’t want to hear about the cat, but wait.  The thing was it was always hiding under things whenever you came in a room.  It wasn’t afraid, just angry.  It would hide under the bed, under the sofa, under the hide-a-bed in the living room.  Squeeze its tailless butt under there like if it didn’t, it wouldn’t be able to control itself.  It might kill you for invading its territory.  It would lie on its back under there and scratch and claw at the fiber to tell you it meant business.  You had to get a broom handle just to get it out and pet it.  That thing wasn’t even a cat.  It hated people.  It should’ve been a Lynx, not a Manx. It should’ve been thrown out into the snow bank where it belonged.  Why bother owning a cat that’s not even a cat?  Cats are difficult enough.

Remembrance Day by Liam Hogan

Read by Will Goodhand

The comm icon flashes and my finger hovers over it for a long moment before I tap.  It’s Doctor Reynolds and I feel the edge fade from the tension that’s been building all morning.

He nods, the computer generated pixels blurring for a moment.  “Samuel, it’s time.”  He says in his soothing voice.

My trembling fingers fumble with the pill box, and it seems to take an eternity before I manage to free the little yellow pill.  I swallow it down with a gulp of cold coffee and open my mouth wide to show that it is gone.

Listening to reason by James Smyth

Read by Martin Lamb

The thing about having an imaginary friend when you’re twenty-five, is that people often don’t take you seriously. That’s why I don’t mention him that often. It’s embarrassing, of course, but it’s not like I have a choice in the matter. I mean, he turned up when I was ten, and has shown no signs of leaving me alone any time soon, so what am I supposed to do? Ignore him? That’s easier said than done.

His and hers by Kurt Tidmore

His and Hers

Read by Ben Farrow & Louisa Gummer

I don’t sleep that well any more. I wake up a lot. I used to sleep like suspended animation. I got my straight eight every night, as regular as the seasons coming around. Before, when I was young, I hardly slept at all because I didn’t have to. Maybe one or two hours a night, and that was enough. Now I lie there for an hour and a half or two hours or three just staring at the ceiling or watching the lights of airplanes cross the sky. And when I do go to sleep I wake up because I have to go to the toilet or I think I hear something. It’s never anything though. The house is as quiet as a fucking tomb. So I lie there awake again, watching the numbers turn over on the clock, thinking how they’re turning over on me, tick tick tick tick tick ... Lying there in the dark with a head full of dark thoughts.