The Story of the Month is chosen from the Story of the Week winners announced from the past month. The finalists for September were:
Guess Who by Kymberli Roberson
The Talking Fingers of My Great Greek Grandfather by Bob Thurber
Summer Learning, 1975 by Jennifer L Freed
Assertive by Philip Zunzuncito Sequoia
Hector Heard God by Shark Trager
The winner of the September 2014 Story of the Month, and the $10 prize, is…
Summer Learning, 1975
Wilson is always left behind at the end.
Alone in the theater, he is waist deep in velvet chairs, all patrons discharged into the aortic pumping of a New York City evening.
The last systole of music ascends to the rafters and all conversation absorbs into the carpeted floor.
Molly Hill lives, writes, and runs a lot of trail miles in her home state of Minnesota, even in the winter.
Soft blue light illuminated the tank as Milton watched the cells divide.
2… 4… 8… 16…
He felt like Frankenstein, high in his tower, witnessing the inception of his creation. Through the portal next to his workstation the sun crested the Earth’s horizon far below.
It was a quiet birth.
Award-winning author of multi-cultural and transgressive literature, Pavarti K. Tyler can be found with Doc Martens strapped on over fishnets, but a girlish giggle as easily and likely as a throaty guffaw.
Everyone watched in silence as she placed her old, shaky hands on the piano for one last time. A tear rolled down her cheek as she tried to remember what she had once played.
I stay huddled in the corner, too young to understand.
Now she is dead.
Alessandra Merto is a 6th grade student. She likes reading, writing, dancing, and running.
So much I still want to do. So much I did do.
College degree after degree, certificate after certificate. They all line my walls.
I have retired three times. I have lived in five countries.
Yet I need more classes, more knowledge, and now I am running out of time.
Tabitha Yothers lived in Japan as a child, and as a foreign service retiree was formerly stationed overseas in Paris, Athens, Jiddah, and Danang. She is now living in Northern Virginia and writing about various subjects.
Once it was the worst.
Now the teachers all get merit pay increases, the superintendent wins national awards, the average SAT is 2303, and all graduates go to Harvard.
Actually, the only graduate. They kicked the other students out in first grade. That’s how they keep the averages so high.
Harry Demarest has retired after careers encompassing scientific research, teaching at a university, software development, web application development, and voter database compilation and distribution. He is now spending his time with his grandchildren and writing memoirs and short stories.
Within the dim sweat lodge squatted four great chiefs and a silent brooding entity.
When Sam could no longer bear their accusatory glares, his eyes dropped, noting his smart cavalry leggings before closing.
A screeching bald eagle shattered the dream.
Dropping the orange root, he drove homewards a wiser man.
A Derryman, Perry McDaid has had poems, stories, reviews, and articles published in diverse and international publications. He is a prizewinning poet and short story writer with anthologies both in paperback and online. Eschewing demands for one “voice”, and spanning genres, he writes from many perspectives on subjects from the comic to the profound. He lives with his family beneath the brows of the Donegal Hills.
The story of the week for September 22 to 26 is Hector Heard God by Shark Trager.
It’s powerful to mix emotions in a story, when it’s done right, and in this piece there’s a great mixture of several emotions. Well done!
You astonish me one day
by quoting poems I never knew
After all these years
of knowing you, I still don’t
fully know you. Who can
ever really know the inner of an
I know what it’s like
to be with
And I like it.
Jennifer L. Freed likes her daily dose of 50WS, likes the challenge of trying to write with such brevity (she can lean toward wordiness at times!), and likes poetry more than she ever thought she would when she was young. She has other poems and a chapbook available at her website, jfreed.weebly.com.
Silence, wrinkled brows, vacant stares. It all seems so simple. Why can’t they see it?
But wait! A spark, a fragile flicker of hope in the sea of despair.
A word murmured, a spark of comprehension, and the self-doubt is swept away.
Why would I want any other job?
Let’s say a wannabe teacher had to write a 50-word (referenced) teaching philosophy. Let’s say a wannabe teacher Googled “50 Word Stories” and was surprised by what he found. Let’s say a wannabe teacher accepted the challenge that had been inadvertently thrown down. Let’s say a wannabe teacher was a boy named Allen Snelling, a uni student usually on the wrong side of most things , including years.