The story of the week for September 18 to 22 is…
Is This Your First? by Emily Patino
The story of the week for September 18 to 22 is…
Is This Your First? by Emily Patino
We, the poets, musicians, and painters, are facing our 60th birthdays. Uh oh. We’ve enjoyed creative lives chasing our dreams. We didn’t desire the security of those friends with steady jobs. As we inch toward our quirky retirement years, immeasurable joy is found by continuing to write, sing, and sketch.
Roberta Beach Jacobson is the Fleakeeper at Five Fleas Itchy Poetry.
He held up the tree branches for her as she followed him along the creek.
As they reached the cave, and the sight of her startled everyone inside, she flinched at the whisper of a once-loved scent.
“The government doesn’t know it.” He smirked at her. “But we’ve got books!”
Chelsea Allen wrote this story.
“Harvey and I have an agreement. He runs the snowblower and the like. I deal with chores involving household appliances. I just cleaned all the carpets.”
“So you’re finished for the day, and we can go shopping?”
“Not quite. Harvey installed artificial turf. Now, I have to vacuum the lawn.”
John H. Dromey’s had short fiction published in over 200 venues.
The newborn is content to nuzzle where it’s warm listening to his mother’s heartbeat, a familiar sound from her womb. He hasn’t opened his eyes yet, and is still coming to terms with the oxygen rush that first hit his lungs.
He was sentenced to life. Day one starts now.
Ruth Mannino is guilty of sentencing four to life, and all are enjoying their terms and conditions.
I find more comfort in complete strangers,
Than in good friends.
I’ve always been enchanted by minding my own business.
Them, minding theirs.
I enjoy the concept of territory.
Of personal space, well-kept.
Let’s draw a red line in chalk, straight down the middle,
And vow to never cross it.
Alma Ariaz is a young writer from Ontario, Canada. She wrote her first novel at sixteen, and has since been published in various literary journals. Her work is mostly fiction based in reality, as she seeks to capture her thoughts in little glass jars and force them onto the page.
The pebble in his pocket had been given to him by a child who’d plucked it from a stream, formerly part of a fierce ancient river. Eons before the great flood, the pebble had been lodged in a hillside, and before that (the pebble still remembered) part of a mountain.
Bob Thurber is the author of six books. Regarded as a master of Flash and Micro Fiction, his work has appeared in Esquire and other magazines, been anthologized 60 times, received a long list of awards, and been utilized in schools and colleges throughout the world. He resides in Massachusetts. Visit his website at BobThurber.net.
I’m full of holes, absolutely riddled. I’m mostly not here. Caught between a particle and a wave. Not knowing how I’m held together, but there is something solid here. I’ve banged my head against the wall enough trying to prove it.
Then I hold your hand and understand the universe.
Robert Ludemann is happy retired and that is the long and short to it.
For years she lay awake, listening for the return of fledglings burning the candle late. The turn of a key, the creak of the stair. Needing to know they were home safe before her own eyes could rest. Now flown, their phantom clicks and shadow steps still haunt her slumber.
Lesley also has short fiction published online at 101 Words, Paragraph Planet and Wensum Lit, as well as a number of competition anthologies. She grew up in the North East and now lives in Hampshire.
“Is this your first?” rings endlessly in her ears, haunting her days as well-meaning people ask her about her future child. She rubs her growing stomach, the guilt of every “yes” said to avoid a harder conversation permeating her thoughts, and tries to convince herself that it wasn’t her fault.
Emily is a new mom, a wife, a cat mom, an editor, a writer, and a singer—words and labels that don’t matter much to anyone, but to her, they are the portrait of a full and growing life. She hopes to expand that life with more words each day.