King came running, tail wagging, the carcass of the neighbor’s bunny dangling from his mouth. Quickly, Jonah stuffed it back in the pen beside the neighbor’s patio.
When the neighbors returned from vacation, they tried to solve the mystery of what sicko dug up their dead pet from their lawn.
Roger Miller is a writer and stand up comedian living in Philadelphia, PA. He has performed at venues across the country, often seeking laughs at taverns and pubs in towns he’s never heard of.
“Autumn’s a beautiful season,” Angela said, admiring the warm colors.
“It reminds me of death,” Jonathan wheezed.
“Not surprising. Everything makes you think of death.”
“That’s because I’m dying. How can you be so callous?”
Not callous. Just pragmatic, Angela thought, stroking the divorce papers, now moot, in her pocket.
Michael Seese has published three books, not to mention a lot of short stories, flash fiction, and poetry. He currently is shilling his latest work, a long short story / short novella titled Rebecca’s Fall From… Other than that, he spends his spare time rasslin’ with three young’uns. Visit MichaelSeese.com or follow @MSeeseTweets to laugh with him or at him.
He described the contraption as a hand-cranked device, sort of like a pinwheel mounted with glass prisms. Except, instead of light, the prisms reflected joyful memories. He claimed it worked like a dream, an absolute dream, revealing us all together, all alive, running around the backyard, leaping puddles, hopping rainbows.
Over the years Bob Thurber’s work has received a long list of awards and prizes. His most recent book is a collection of brief stories titled “Nothing But Trouble”. Visit BobThurber.net.
The story of the week for July 27 to 31 is…
Where Does the Time Go? by Damian Sebouhian
There were some strong parent/child stories last week, and this one stood out as my favourite. Maybe I’m just a softie as I wait for my third son to arrive…
Adalyn climbed up her father’s lap for a game of “hop, hop to Boston”. Her father was the strongest man alive and she loved him “the morst”.
“Watch out my little girl!” he sang as she squealed.
But she never fell in: she flew from his lap all grown up.
Damian Sebouhian is a freelance writer, playwright and English tutor living in Northern California. He misses the rain.
I look down and see the Earth, my home. It is so beautiful and perfect. Seas I will never sail. Mountains I will never climb.
The air becomes thin. Tears fall from my eyes as it gets smaller and smaller. Condensation blocks my view.
With my last breath, I curse.
Nzinga Andrews is somewhere in Birmingham, UK wondering why she hasn’t moved to somewhere hot and exotic. She loves all things writing.
At twelve you expect nothing wonderful to come of a death. You close your door to contemplate him—all of us—going, and sob.
A knock startles you. Your aunt.
She lays a book on your bureau. “She thought a lot about death.” She leaves you alone with Emily Dickinson.
Several of Pamela Hobart Carter
‘s plays have made it to Seattle stages. She also writes short books in easy English for adults.
The eagle danced upon the high current. Powerful muscles soared through the leaden cloud. Ocean-drenched rocks loomed closer. The wind gained momentum, whistling through mountain peaks, down to the battered shore.
Swooping upon broken rigging, his golden talons clutched ruined wood. He perched, waiting on the spoils of the shipwreck.
is a dark romance writer and author of the Ravens Deep Trilogy. Her fourth book is soon to be published. Jane lives in Sarasota, Florida.
Jogging. Madman followed lady. Knifed her.
Rushed to her.
I held her wounds.
Stay with me. Name?
No! Love you.
I love you, Carole. Stay.
Sirens. Who called?
Carole stayed. My wife of 1,827 days. Debilitated. In wheelchair.
Nick Armbrister wrote this story.
The young one traces the puckered lines on her papa’s face.
“Do they hurt?”
“What are they, Poppy?”
“Maps to all the places I’ve been.”
” Can I go?”
“To some, yes. To others, I hope not.”
She kisses the “map” and declares, “I’m gonna start making my map!”
Hillary Nichols only puts down her pen when her duties as a mother to seven, grandmother to three and wife of one compels her to.