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.

 

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!”

 

The Summoning Bell by Rebecca Miles

Read by Lin Sagovsky

The Cutter’s Inn, County of Bristol, 1844

Winter trees reach with long dark fingers into an unresponsive sky as the figure strikes a match, bringing the hungry flame to the paper’s edge. Clouds mask the moon as they did a year ago, and no reflection in the inky waters mirrors the man’s face, shaggy brows knitted in concentration. The canal carves its quiet way through the night, secrets flowing through each of the 105 locks linking this backwater to the smog and skulduggery of London. Despite the December drizzle, the paper catches, words scorched in a tongue of flame.

 

Two Down by Hannah Noyce

Read by Kim Scopes (4th story in podcast, at 1h 0m 55s)

She smiled to herself as she descended two flights of stairs to the basement bar. He had been mysterious about the location of their date, insisting on giving her only an address. In spite of herself, she had resisted the urge to Google. Now she saw why. They had bonded over their shared love of cryptic crosswords, and he had chosen a place called “Two Down”.

She was careful to hide a pang of disappointment when she saw him – his crooked smile was a little less endearing in person – but he stared intently at her, and she felt a flutter at the thought of his excitement. She looked good tonight.

Family Recipes by Lisa Farrell

Read by Gloria Sanders (2nd story in podcast, at 17m 30s)

It started out as a game. My sister had found a purplish flower hidden in a tangle of weeds, and we both recognised it from the illustration in one of Mother’s old books. She didn’t say anything, just held the greenery at bay and eyed it greedily as though she wanted to taste it herself. She knew it was wolfsbane, same as I did. A purple death, potentially. Always was her favourite colour, though it suited us both, or so Mother used to say.

While my sister harvested her find, I hunted further, hacking away the strangling vines until I found a treasure of my own. Spotted stems that I disturbed, and then a scattering of tiny seeds, each strong enough to kill a man. I wasn’t keen on sharing, and we fought there among the overgrown greenery, scratching and biting like we were kids again, rolling over berries that stained our shirts red.

Bag of Bones by Angelita Lapuz Bradney

Read by Margaret Ashley (1st story in podcast, at 5m 30s)

The next-door neighbour is punching her husband in the garden. High-pitched grunts dart through the window like punctuation marks. He’s got pads strapped to his hands. Now and then he shows her how she should move her feet, push from the shoulder, swivel her waist. They wear t-shirts in the same faded blue. After a while they swap over. Now she’s holding the pads and he’s hitting her. When he makes contact her arm moves back, as if on a spring. Jab jab jab.

It’s been six months since they moved in. They still have that newlywed smugness about them. Reality hasn’t yet sunk in, with familiarity breeding contempt and resentment spreading like a bed of nettles.

Talons & Teeth by Lizzie Muncey

Read by the author (57 minutes into podcast, here)

I live just over the road from them; directly opposite. If I wanted to, which of course I don’t, I could see right into their lounge from my bedroom window. I’d have to stand on a chair and climb on my chest of drawers to do it, but it would be possible.

The old one is a bit wild nowadays, if I can put it like that. She’s developed a strange, intense look about her. And a mad laugh-come-cackle. With the middle one it’s more of a general crumbling. An overall dishevelment. She used to be an attractive young woman, but now it’s like she resists her beauty. And the youngest one too, having been such a quiet, biddable child, has loosened. Now she walks around barefoot and I can tell, even from this distance, often neglects to put on a bra.

Tiny Furies by E. Ce Miller

Read by Martine Richards (1h 15min into podcast, here)

It all started with the bento box. Sort of.

Bree's mother—the one still bragging about the farmhouse sink she'd installed in the kitchen of her mid-century Craftsman cottage, even though most of us had already stopped by at some point to compliment it—saw some account on Pinterest, and the next thing we knew, the entire first grade came tumbling home one afternoon demanding sunflower butter on sprouted wheat bread cut into hearts and stars. They wanted a rainbow of bell peppers in one compartment and something called tempeh in another. Their eyes beseeched us as they spoke reverently of a spoonful of plant-based yogurt dusted with Ceylon cinnamon for dessert.

Karma by Katie Lewis

Read by Alexandra Kenna (4min 40sec into podcast, here)

Anisha receives her first task at 2 p.m.

>Steal a hat from the souvenir stall at the entrance to the Cardiff Coffee Convention. You have 25 minutes.

Her heart thumps; her palms are sweaty. She can’t do this – she’s never even stolen a pen before! But the first message she got on the burner phone was clear: complete three tasks by the specified deadlines, or she will die and so will Nidra. Every Karma viewer knows of participants whose loved ones paid the price for failure or snitching. Anisha doesn’t understand how she ended up in Karma’s sights but she loves her little sister too much to risk it.

All the Times I Thought I was Pregnant by JM Cyrus

Read by Aren Devlin (35 minutes into podcast, here)

15 September 2017. I was 12. Most of my friends at school, some of my frenemies too, had started their period over the summer. The holidays hadn't just granted new tans and stories of holiday boyfriends. But it hadn’t blessed me.

One thing led to another, insecurities building on each other, and before long I was convinced I hadn’t started yet because I was to be the next virgin mother.

I told my mother about this once. Okay, I told her about it several times. All right, many times. When she got bored with me I checked the internet.

Turned out I wasn't pregnant.

 

A Doll's Head in Hackney by Kathryn Sharpe

Read by Miranda Harrison (19 minutes into podcast, here)

Shana opens the window that overlooks Clapton Way, the one with mould at the seal that never disappears, and decisively throws the doll’s head into the street. Moments before she’d snapped it clean from the body. She looks at her baby in the corner of the kitchen and living area who is still screaming. Still eight months. Still difficult. The smell of weed from the corridor laps at the door and she breathes in, half hoping for a high that won’t come. 

Incident 420 by Charlotte Davis

Read by Jay Hunt & Sarah Barlex - final story in podcast, at 1h23min, link below:
S&L Podcast (right click Open Link in New Tab to enable fast-forwarding)

Report compiled by:       I. C. Allerman & Dr. E. Brown
Date of Report:             11^th June 2331
Date of Incident:           23rd - 24th July 1794
Incident Location:         Georgian London - Ratcliffe
Involved Parties:           Caira Brennen - Level 3 Guide with Solo Certification
                                   Oliver Fenchurch - Client

The following report attempts to establish the events resulting in, though not exclusively, the complete destruction of the Georgian London Clinic, requiring the temporary suspension of all Aristocratic and Commoner trips to that era. Both parties were interviewed separately but we have attempted to construct a comprehensive timeline from the information provided - some questions have been edited for clarity.

Romancing the Cherry by Laura Morgan

Read by Patsy Prince - third story in podcast, at 35:11, link below:
S&L Podcast (right click Open Link in New Tab to enable fast-forwarding)

If you want a peaceful weekend away in the sun, don’t spend it with serious pub quizzers. I was reaching this conclusion before we even got off the plane. Nigel had invited me as a last-minute replacement. I wasn’t much of a quizzer, certainly not in his league, but he knew I had minimal commitments and a flexible schedule (for which read: almost no family, few friends and sporadic-at-best work), so I was a good bet for making up numbers.

On the flight I’d gradually put names to faces. Mary and Deepak, a frowning couple eating egg sandwiches. Steve, a burly northerner talking obsessively about sport.

(“Is sport your specialist subject?”

“You can’t have specialist subjects when you quiz at this level, Annie. You have to be a generalist.”)

Corner of her Eye by Caroline von Schmalensee

Read by Gloria Sanders (first story in podcast, here)

Sarah first noticed the specks on a bright spring morning. The city shimmered in pale light and she saw tiny somethings on the periphery of her vision. They disappeared when she turned her head to look. Sarah interpreted the movement as cherry blossom petals in the wind: ephemeral shapes that disappeared when she tried to focus on them.

As spring turned into summer, Sarah saw more specks and spots. They couldn’t be petals now the cherry blossoms were gone, but they were certainly something.

 

Somebody by Lanay Griessner

Read by Lucy Mabbitt, full podcast here. 

I worked at The Lost Sock for six months before I started stealing from the Lost and Found. It was a pragmatic decision. I had no more space in the box and there was a new pleather vest to add to the pile. I could have gotten a second box, or a bigger box, but that just would have delayed the inevitable. No one came back to collect anything. Ever. Maybe leaving something at a laundromat was another way of throwing it out, like sneaking it in someone else's garbage can because yours was full. 

But the stuff wasn't garbage. There was a flip phone, a cashmere sweater, sequinned leggings, a gold wedding ring, a camouflage fanny pack, a magic 8 ball, a smorgasbord of foreign coins that were almost the same size as quarters but were not actually quarters, a peace sign crop top, a sari wrap, flannel pyjamas, a Snuggie, and a pink vibrator. 

Thrill by Georgina Sims

Read by Gloria Sanders - full podcast here. 

It’s humid on the balcony. The street below emits only a quiet hum, its buzz weighed down by the heat. I let my body linger for a while, taking solace in the silence before watching it sway in the reflection of the sliding door. The throbbing in my right foot is like a mimic of my heartbeat. Everything is so rhythmic – so slow.

Paul’s blurred silhouette paces around the kitchen, disrupting the mirror-image as he tries to find something to clean up the blood. I want to tell him to check the third drawer on the left, but I refrain. Because I can’t remember how it got like this. I can’t remember when this stopped being fun.

An Evening at the Faeling Cafe by Charlotte Davis

Read by Sophie Morris-Sheppard - full podcast here. 

Aperitif: Spellbound Martini - Shaken for a hint of glamour!

***

Revenge is a dish best served cold, and I’ve been freezing the bastard for months; churning it over and over like butter, or ice cream. Biding my time just as he had bided his, since that fateful day he ordered his first Foreplay Frappe - a fun night guaranteed! - with that dopey smile.

“Good choice, that’s my favourite!” I exclaimed as I rang it up.

“Then one for yourself as well,” came his smooth reply. “Or maybe something a little stronger when you get off shift?”

What Was & What Is by Kathryn Sharpe

Read by Katy Darby (click to listen) What Was & What Is MP3

You’re in the office; a small room decorated with dead plants in a building with other businesses trying to make it. The windows seal the sound of the street below.  Moorgate is busy in the week again. It’s a rare visit from you. Since you left London for love you’re not here often.

Leanna is sitting opposite on a patchy leather sofa that drips with drool from the dogs that come in. Bringing in pandemic puppies who have become adults with behavioral issues is a work benefit listed first on the careers page, above the pensions that no one can afford to contribute to and the ‘inclusive culture’ that is not really followed.

The Visit by Marta Patiño

Read by Carrie Cohen (2nd story in podcast, at 16min 30s, here)

Cassandra could not explain why she was compelled to visit Chance House. Or why she had dreamt of the grand estate, seeming to know its every corner. She looked out from her bedroom window as stars clung to the waning night. The last fragments of a dream darted away like silver fish, replaced by a childhood memory of grey stone walls etched with moss, and a line of windows like a hound baring its teeth. Cassandra was practically a stranger to Chance House, her mother’s childhood home, though she knew well where the long driveway began. She scanned the lacework of trees, trying to locate the dwelling that lay beyond the fields and woods.

It was true the house had been in her thoughts of late. The property had lain empty for months, and had been recently inherited by Mr Kitto, who had left his mines in Northumberland to take up residence there. No doubt she was curious about meeting her cousins.

Looking for Matti by Grace Andreacchi

Read by Sarah Barlex (5th story in podcast, at 1hXXmin, here)

It was Christmas in Berlin. Lise had come alone on the train from London because there was no one who might have come with her. Everywhere in the streets the smell of burning, mingled with the sickly sweet odour of death. Piles of ash appeared solid as mountains but dissolved at the touch of a hand, collapsed in upon themselves, then scattered white wraiths of cloud upon the wind. In place of buildings were towers of broken rubble from which the wreckage of life protruded – a picture of an alpine landscape upon a half-burnt wall, a bathtub, white and glistening, swaying like an exotic fruit upon a stem of twisted lead piping, somebody’s leg still wearing half a pair of military trousers: further down the street, a pair of calcified boots. Lise was in Berlin, looking for Matti. The streets were nearly empty of people, the few she passed like evil ghosts swathed in black rags; thin and shivering, they stared after her with dull eyes.