Anne Maclachlan

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Anne Maclachlan is an award-winning writer with an international background. She handles Web, marketing and press content, social media, ghostwriting and a range of other communications. As a consultant, she focuses on the multicultural, linguistic and historical authenticity of her clients’ creative works, while as a freelance journalist she writes on a broad variety of topics for newspapers and magazines. A passionate supporter of global literacy, Anne has more than a dozen K-12 and adult readers published and in use around the world.

The Edge of the World 

My parents always took us to fascinating places so we could learn about the world. When I was very small, they took us to Niagara Falls. I knew exactly where we really were. ~ A. M.

I was holding tightly to my Daddy's hand as we walked along the pavement towards a world of deep, overwhelming noise, through misty wet air, and into the moving clouds. When the white air shifted, I saw all the water in the world fall over the edge of the earth as far across as I could see, but nobody seemed frightened. Most were pointing and some were laughing and smiling, and all seemed every bit as amazed as I felt.
As Daddy lifted me up at the big fence, and held me tight, a better view of this tumultuous world appeared and I suddenly knew exactly where my family had brought me. What an adventure! What a place to visit! We had come to the edge of the world, and here it was dropping off into the sky and disappearing into the clouds.

"Where does the water go, Daddy?" I asked, and Daddy explained about the water going away and around the world and coming back. What an astonishing thing was water, that it could find its massive way back from oblivion and into the rivers again. All the way back from the edge of the world. 

"Is this the end of the world?" I was certain that it was so, but not having the word for "edge" I used "end" and I knew from Daddy's answer that he hadn't understood. Our family lingered there, mist-kissed, soaking in this overwhelmingly noisy, wet, white and grey place that was where the water left the earth.

Recent Comments
Katherine Gregor
What a beautiful recollection. I can just picture you there, with your child wide-eyed curiosity.
Saturday, 09 August 2014 07:25
Anne Maclachlan
Thank you, Katherine! It truly was an impressive experience. I was so certain that this place was the edge of the world - it made ... Read More
Sunday, 10 August 2014 06:31
1165 Hits

Rom-Com from the NYCMM global flash challenge

Hello fellow writers,

The entry below was my first foray into romantic comedy, as assigned during an international competition. Hope it gives you a giggle.



Bets and Blades


From the New York City Midnight Madness 48-hour International Flash Challenge. Category: RomCom; object: a blade; location: an attic; word limit: 1K. This story landed in the finals of the competition.


“Bugger bugger bugger bugger buggerBUGGERBUGGER!” Gwen slashed the butcher knife down hard with each word, soaking the tiled kitchen backsplash. The dog was barking frantically. Gwen rounded on a sudden noise, knife dripping red.

“Gwen?” her roommate Lisa paused next to the kitchen door, two wine glasses and a bottle in hand. “Why are you home already, and what’s with the tomato slaughter?”

Lisa’s eyes met a cold-blooded stare.­­

“Oh. Didn’t go so well, then?”

“If you ever… If you EVER set me up on a blind date again, I’ll splatter you all over this kitchen.”

“I thought you Brits were the icy ones. Come on, Shakespeare, tell me the tale before Richard gets here.”  Gwen, still in a fury, was only half paying attention to her. Lisa cautiously entered the kitchen, poured them a glass of wine each and pulled a tall chair over to the counter, just out of arm’s reach. 

“Your friend’s brother. Turned up. Soused.”


Gwen resumed the vegetable massacre without touching the glass. “Drunk. He showed up completely – ” she leaped at the sound of the doorbell.  “Oh, do let me get it. If he’s followed me home, I can photograph the before-and-after crime scene.”

“Um,” protested Lisa. Gwen darted over to the door, banging it open against the foyer wall, and raising the knife in gory salutation. 

“Good evening, Ma’am. I’m Richard, and I’ll be your investigating officer this evening. Want to put down the weapon and call off your dog?”

“Oh, come bloody in.” Gwen ignored the badge her colleague presented and stalked back into the kitchen, the dog trotting happily along as Richard scratched him behind the ears. 

Richard surveyed the mess with a raised eyebrow. “Some backsplatter. Who started it? Hey, Lisa – what’s the difference between a backsplash and a backsplatter? A crime scene.”

“That’s in dreadful taste. Tell me you don’t need me or my camera right now,” Gwen resumed her attack on the tomatoes.

“Well, we have a situation and Tim could use some of your expertise. Maybe you’d like to change? And you,” Richard swiped a kiss on Lisa’s lips, as Gwen marched into her bedroom, “don’t ever change. I came over as soon as you called. Tim’s setting up in the attic now.”

“Lucky her date called me to ask where she disappeared to. Maybe you won’t have enough time. Maybe Tim will be so nervous he’ll blow it. Maybe you’re completely wrong about her crush. Maybe your bet isn’t safe yet, honey. Hah, I should let her take that knife with her.”

Richard leaned on the kitchen counter and grinned, “Maybe you know you’ll lose this bet - it’s just a day earlier than we planned it. And I see you’ve already decided to cook me dinner. What are you serving me?”

Gwen reappeared, cool and lovely, with the slightest touch of makeup and perfume and her hair elegantly tousled.

“Dog food.”  Lisa watched her roommate breeze out the door with her camera gear.

“Wish me luck!” Richard grinned, “I’ll be back for dinner in an hour.”

The mood on the drive to the incident was cool, and Richard suspected Gwen was composing herself. There were bets going all over the office over who would get her out for dinner, and they were lining up just to be shot down in plain public view. She did it so well. But Tim, another crime scene photographer, had unwittingly cracked her surface, and everybody knew it. But although Gwen had been completely civil to Tim, he’d never asked her out and she had no idea where he lived.

They pulled up to a large Victorian house, dimly lit behind massive trees.

“Richard …?” Gwen glared at him intently, “What’s going on here?”

Richard took a deep breath, knowing she could have his badge if this didn’t go well. “It’s upstairs.”

“Where are the cars? The lights? The tape?”

Richard mumbled something about “no time,” running ahead of Gwen, through the unlocked door and up the darkened stairs.

“If you’re lying to me, so help me – ”

“I’m not! I swear it!”

There was soft lighting in the attic. “She’s here,” Richard announced, as Gwen stepped into the doorway and took in the scene, expressionless. Candles lit the gabled room. Against one of the cushioned window seats stood a beautifully set table, and Baroque music gently filled the cozy space.

Tim was on his knees, camera next to him, placing white outline tape around a soft red object. The look on his face, of utter embarrassed innocence, was priceless.

Gwen took a step forward and gazed at the scarlet cushion in the center of the tape outline; Tim reddened.

“It’s my heart,” he stammered.

Richard took one look at Gwen’s softening face, realizing he’d hit his mark fair and true, and called out “My work here is done! I’ll get the door,” as he leaped down the stairs and secured the lock. He broke a couple of traffic laws getting back to the apartment.

“I won, I won!” he cheered in delight, sweeping Lisa up and kissing her properly.

“I know, I know,” she grinned, indicating the dinner table, with the promise of a juicy steak at her setting and a crystal bowl full of dog food at his. “Listen, Mr. Policeman, that was criminal, what you just did to Gwen and Tim.”

“Wasn’t it?” Richard grinned wickedly. “Well, at least I didn’t lie.”  

“I wouldn’t count on that to save you.” Lisa removed the crackling hot steaks from the oven and placed them on a cutting board. “Just in case you get smug,” she lifted the freshly washed butcher knife from its customary place, smiled sweetly, “How does she say it?” and brought the knife down on Richard’s steak, “Bugger, bugger buggerbuggerbugger!”

“Sore loser,” Richard surveyed the carnage on the cutting board.

“What if she’s back in the next few minutes?”


Richard looked up and chuckled.  “Wanna bet?”

Recent Comments
Stephen Evans
I like it!
Sunday, 03 August 2014 16:37
Anne Maclachlan
That is very kind, thank you, Stephen! My heart was in my mouth with this assignment, but I did have fun with it once inspiration ... Read More
Sunday, 03 August 2014 16:45
Rosy Cole
This is mischievous, Anne! I can't help wondering what the dog had for supper. Perhaps, Richard ... Read More
Sunday, 03 August 2014 17:00
2138 Hits

Latest Comments

Ken Hartke Sofia's Bakery
20 May 2018
Thanks, Rosy, -- glad you liked it.
Ken Hartke I Promise
20 May 2018
I am so looking forward to your return -- I love your writing and wish you well. From my youth I've...
Stephen Evans I Promise
20 May 2018
Sometimes when I am dealing with deep anxiety I find that work (by which I mean writing), and the f...
Rosy Cole Sofia's Bakery
20 May 2018
I just love this, Ken. As appealing to the senses as a painting. Thanks :-)

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