Smoke was erupting from his engine. One more press of my trigger and his Messerschmitt would be no more.
I had won the fight, but it was the wrong time to deny a family their son for Christmas.
I banked hard right and into the clouds. The fight could wait.
Chris is a Network Manager involved in many aspects of IT. He has a love of writing short stories and technical articles, photography, and playing the guitar. He is from Dudley in the Black Country. He is also a member of The Oldbury Writing Group.
I came off the slopes to join my mother in the lodge.
Instead of cocoa, she bellied up to the bar, ordered a beer, and took it to a high-top. She winked at me from her perch as I looked on from the threshold.
My very first lesson in cool.
Margaret is an amateur writer, but her mother thinks she’s WONDERFUL. She resides in Indianapolis.
Trying to outrun his pursuer, the terrified man scrambled and stumbled. It was too late; gigantic spiked forearms grabbed him. His captor was the size of a car.
Inside the Rhinoceros Beetle’s underground lair, human specimens of varying ethnicities were neatly arranged and labelled—each impaled with a giant pin.
Melanie cringes with horror when recalling the time she was made to stick pins into arthropods for a science project.
I took Maggie Christmas shopping. We bought clothes for the little girl in our adopt-a-family and a Wonder Woman figure for Maggie.
At bedtime, I asked Maggie about her Wonder Woman toy.
“Please don’t be mad at me, Mommy. I snuck it in with the clothes for that little girl.”
This story was inspired by Meagan’s son Kaden.
Joe strips his first-date clothes.
Mouth open, he pulls down his tongue, unzips his skin suit, head to crotch.
He reaches inside and pulls out his heart. The heart looks like china—shattered, then glued back together. More than once.
Joe sheds the skin. A young man emerges, heart intact.
Maura gets paid to be a nerd and writes short fiction so she’ll be less of a pain in the neck to those around her. Read her publications at maurayzmore.com
or come say ‘hi’ on Twitter
“Bargaining with the Sidhe is dangerous. They can’t be trusted!”
I ignored her.
“I want to live forever,” I told them.
“Then we’ll give you a form that will last through eternity,” they replied.
Now I stand here in the circle, one stone among many, watching the aeons drift past.
Bill lives in Aberdeen, Scotland. As he rises to the top of his profession, he awaits with morbid curiosity his inevitable fall from grace.
“I won’t be gone long this year.”
Santa and Mrs. Claus stare at the nearly empty sleigh.
“More elf layoffs?” she asks.
Santa nods, holding up the “Nice” list, covered with crossed-out names.
“Well,” she sighs, kissing his cheek and patting his belly, “somebody could do with fewer cookies, anyway.”
Tony Jasnowski teaches English at Bellevue University and still tries hard, with occasional success, to keep his name on the Nice list.
Johnny finally reached Santa’s grotto.
“Ricky said my mom brings the toys on Christmas morning, but you’re real and I can prove it!” he gasped.
“Remember the cup of cocoa you drunk dry last year?”
“I put three sugars in that cup, and my mom hates sugar.”
John B. Sinclair is a much-travelled Scot who has now returned to Scotland, where he enjoys freelance writing on a variety of subjects.
The Story of the Month is chosen from the Story of the Week winners announced from the past month.
The finalists for November were:
Compulsive Behavior by Alex Markovich
The Goldilocks Zone by Viv Burgess
Ghosts by Maura Yzmore
Last Dance by Chip House
The winner of the November 2017 Story of the Month, and the $10 prize, is…
The Goldilocks Zone
Science fiction, as a genre, is built on social commentary and philosophy. In this story, Viv has achieved much the same effect as the classic Planet of the Apes, but speaking to a different set of issues.
According to Wikipedia, werewolves possess an excellent sense of smell, which enables them to locate and pursue their victims. If they can’t smell me, then I’ll be safe.
As the howls grew closer, Jerry climbed inside the plastic storage container and sealed the lid, feeling quite proud of his plan.
In addition to writing, Sarah K Krenicki enjoys warm socks, soft blankets, and hot cocoa.