Spencer Ratcliff -Author

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An Angel in the Desert

Charlie and Alan rubbed their Aussie eyes. It had been a marathon day in the desert, some of it now lodged in the back of their throats which were pleading for beer.

Kilometre after straight kilometre and cactus after towering, flowering cactus had gripped their interest for the first hour, but enough was enough.

With the beckoning lights of Vegas ahead, the sun had long retired, allowing its mate the moon, to take watch.

:An Angel in the Desert

The Disapproving Moon

Highly Commended by Chapter One Promotions, UK,and published in their anthology

Every day for as long as he could remember, the spindly Heime Goldstein had risen at five am, bathed in a vertical position, then meticulously donned his suit and waistcoat. Next on his list were his teeth which he diligently brushed, paying particular attention to the four gold ones.

He would repeatedly check his gold fob watch and chain were positioned correctly and that his winged collar was starched to his approval. And not one solitary hair was permitted to stray from its allotted position.

:The Disapproving Moon

Nurse... Where Are You?

Highly Recommended and published in anthology by Stringybark Stories, Australia

No-one ever accused Harry of not having a good sense of humour.

When his first wife left him for a woman, he joked about it publicly. When the Global Financial Crisis swallowed half his savings he hauled himself out of retirement and got a job. When he fell off his roof while clearing gutters, he cracked as many jokes as he did ribs.

He could always see the funny side of things, with family and friends loving him for it, especially his colleagues in the Samuel Beckett Nursing Home at Kelvedon Hatch.

:Nurse... Where Are You?

Never Mind. That's My Name

Highly Commended by Writers Village Best, UK

I threw myself onto the firm double bed and looked around my dazzling white colonial style room. The wooden shutters were wide open, allowing in a welcome zephyr breeze and one last glorious glimpse of the exhausted sun, sliding gracefully underwater. It’s face was brilliant crimson, as if embarrassed by its departure.

“Good evening baas,” said the ever so polite waiter. In his over-starched, double-breasted, snow-white tunic, he resembled cricketer Viv Richards in full test match attire.

Read more: Never Mind. That's My Name


Copyright © Spencer Ratcliff 2019. All Rights Reserved.