dreamszilla

A prestigious conductor auditions for a new member of his orchestra, and gets a moving surprise; by Lawrence Martin. "Maestro, the candidates are waiting." The fifty-year-old conductor, tall, handsome and urbane, nodded to his young assistant. They walked to the audition auditorium. "How many performers today?" "Four, sir. Two from Curtis in Philadelphia, two from Juilliard." "These are a chore, Robert, but I must endure them. You have the Mahler score, so I can study it during the auditions?" "Yes. About the performers, three are seasoned violinists, and one is a Juilliard student." "Oh, they always try to slip in a student, heh? A waste of my valuable time." They took seats and the auditions began. During the performances, Maestro rarely looked up from the score on his lap. The first three went quickly; after each, Robert told the performer, "Thank you, we will be in touch." "Any of them are...

When Jessica's overbearing husband has a heart attack after a skiing accident, she and her sister-in law suspect foul play; by Rhema Sayers.  Hank Tavison, age forty-six, tanned, buff, ruggedly handsome, with his young, gorgeous, fifth wife at his side, leaned back in the ski lift chair, letting the cold wind blow through his thick dark hair. "What a great day!" he enthused as Jessica shifted uncomfortably in the seat next to him. She kept her gaze locked on the back of the seat ahead and her gloved hands clenched on the safety bar. "You're going to love this." Hank continued. "There's nothing like a brilliant, sunny day on the slopes with the wind in your face. You'll feel like you're flying!" "Are you sure I ought to start on this slope? I've never skied before. It looks awfully steep." "Don't worry. You'll catch on quick." "I'm a little scared, Hank." He glanced at her irri...

Supermarket security guard Chris harvests old photos from his ailing mother's house, and flirts with Gemma, a waitress at the supermarket café; by Fiona Nichols. Outside, the storm rumbled on, leaving the rain-slicked carpark almost empty. Chris headed for his usual table by the window, wet hair dripping onto his tray. He had picked the wrong day to cycle. With half an hour until his evening shift started, he set down his coffee and toasted teacake and shouldered off his backpack, leaving a puddle on the floor. He'd been turning up for work early these past few months, and the rest of his day had become a prelude to sitting in the supermarket café, in the hope Gemma was working. Chris sat facing the counter, raised his mug at her and smiled. The waitress nodded back from her cash register, but she seemed tired - not her usual sparky self at all. She was busy serving the only other customer, so he dragged his eyes away and remembered to check the old shoebox in his bag. At ...