Marco found a magic pencil only he could use. Everything he wrote happened—to others. Broke and desperate, he started a nightclub act, scribbling audience members’ desires.
“A million dollars!”
“Make me beautiful!”
Greedy people. They didn’t deserve any of it.
Gripping the pencil, Marco wrote, “The audience disappears.”
Joanne R. Fritz lives in West Chester, PA. Her short fiction and poetry have appeared in various magazines. She blogs at My Brain on Books.
The man in the green sweater sold memories from a pasting table.
The girl with the red shoes delighted in sifting through the echoes of his past.
Highlight reel playing, he let the monuments to her life go cheaply, their glorious triumphs intact.
The real treasure remained hidden, buried.
Jon is from the North West of England, works in local government, with a background in Newspaper Journalism. He is currently experimenting with short fiction and other forms of creative writing.
I spin round and round until I can stand no longer. Sinking to the cushy grass, closing my eyes, twirling with the cosmos, I wish for my problem to disappear.
The earth stops moving; I open my eyes.
“Are you still here?”
The stray wags all over, licking my face.
Candace lives in Pennsylvania where she reads, writes poetry and short stories, and snaps photos.
The story of the week for November 23 to 27 is…
The Death of a Dream by Devon Widmer
Strong implied character building, emotional attachment, and a message worth hearing, all elements of a great story.
“Five hundred Reich marks.” I push the bills across the desk.
“Ha.” He smirks. “Five thousand, minimum. The coat, the rings, and that diamond necklace, too.” He points, eyeing my yellow star. “If you’d rather be shot, fine.” He shrugs. “There’s plenty who’d give anything for a chance to live.”
Clara Ray Rusinek Klein is bilingual in Spanish and English. She holds a BA magna cum laude in Political Science with a minor in Religious Studies. Ms. Klein is an internationally published creative writer and author and the founder and Editor in Chief of A Quiet Courage, an online journal of microfiction and poetry in 100 words or less. Her one-hundred-word story “Defector” was chosen as the winner of the April 2015 Photo Story prompt on 100 Word Story, and her one-hundred-word story “Ostdeutschland” was chosen as an Editor’s Pick on Postcard Shorts. For more information and a full list of current publications, visit clararayrusinekklein.wordpress.com.
I remember our hotel, how you always insisted on room service, how we waited until dusk before strolling hand in hand along the deserted beach, how you wore that silly hat.
I remember rushing to your side when you collapsed, sitting by your hospital bed, being introduced to your wife.
is an eternal optimist who thinks life is for living and tries hard not to waste it.
It was the first time she had ever scared him.
She sparked the lighter, the jerk of her arm sending the sharp jag of petrol to his nose. Then she was engulfed.
He pounded on the flames with fear-numbed fists.
It was the last time he would ever beat her.
Stephen McQuiggan is proof of Intelligent Design; evolution could never explain how this useless lump of slobber and gristle still manages to draw breath, or what function it could possibly serve. His first novel, A Pig’s View Of Heaven, is available now from Grinning Skull Press.
Tragically, we found our cat dead in the garden, so we buried him beneath the pear tree, covering him with a stone.
But then three days later our cat returned.
There are only two options, I’ve deduced. Either we’re dealing with the cat messiah, or we buried someone else’s cat.
Nick lives in the West Midlands in England. By day he runs a small, independent fostering service; by night he writes 50-word stories and other flash fiction. Check out his blog
At the age of nine, Kathy begged her parents for a silver jumpsuit, boldly declaring she was going to be a space explorer when she grew up.
But a single day spent dodging her classmates’ taunts banished that jumpsuit to the back of the closet, never to be worn again.
Devon R. Widmer, a graduate student in chemistry, is currently hard at work resuscitating her childhood dreams.
Breathless from her climb, Lisa straddled a high branch and gently rubbed her belly. She watched the elm’s shadow creeping across the church’s stained-glass. When the preacher said “Whoever has reason that these two should not be joined,” she would grip the tire-swing’s rope and leap, swinging out, shattering everything.
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.