The story of the week for May 20 to 24 is…
All posts by Tim
DAVID DEZELL TURNER: Re: Enforcer Academy Application
From: Dean Plasmafist
To: Hindsight Girl
We regret to inform you that you were not selected for Enforcer Academy. Your ability to make people reconsider decisions, while amusing, is too mundane a superpower for our prestigious training program.
On second thought, perhaps we were too hasty. Welcome to the Academy!
David Dezell Turner is an astrodynamics PhD student at the University of Colorado Boulder. When he isn’t giving directions to real spaceships, he’s writing about fictional ones. Check out more of his work at daviddezellturner.com.
TANAY: Duffy
I was standing by his corpse. Sure it was Harry. Although the face was disfigured, I could feel the cinnamon in my nostrils. Only he smelled that way. I couldn’t contain my sorrow and began to bark.
“What are you barking at, Duffy?” Harry said, his shadow approaching me.
Tanay is a freelancer and a business owner from India. He loves to write whenever he finds the time. His latest poetry collection ‘sparrow on the bark’ is out on Amazon, in paperback and on kindle.
NICKI NANCE: Checkout Line Hostage
Someone’s ‘many greats’ grandmother held the checkout line hostage with a return, a coupon and her checkbook. After a thorough search in her purse of a thousand zippers, she asked for a pen. Dangling her purchase from her walker, she rattled her way out smiling. Yes, it was me. Sorry.
Nicki Nance wrote this story.
JAMISON BROWN: Crystal Ball
I need to know many things. I peer through layers of smoke roiling beneath the glass. I can see forever, but not the end.
As the haze clears, I see myself as I am seen. Reflected in the depths, not my face, but another’s—the one I killed to become.
Jamison Brown has had a rewarding career in technology, a journey that has allowed him to travel extensively. Jamison now takes pleasure in the simple joys of being a homebody. An avid lover of writing and music, Jamison maintains a passionate connection to his tech roots, ensuring that the digital realm continues to hold a special place on his priority list. View more of Jamison’s work at https://jgbrown.me.
MAUREEN KINGSTON: Mother’s Day
Our handbaskets bump in the checkout line. We smile, shift arms right and left to protect our goods. In your nest: caramel puff corn, chocolate lava cakes, gallon of milk. In mine: a party barrel of German pretzels, key lime pie, and chardonnay. Plus and minus, we celebrate both signs.
Maureen Kingston’s poems and prose have appeared or are forthcoming in Blithe Spirit, Frogpond, Friday Flash Fiction, Gyroscope Review, MacQueen’s Quinterly, and Unbroken Journal.
CARLTON WELLS: The Phone Call That Changed My Life
I can’t remember when it started, but it was many years ago. In the middle of the night a teenager telephoned and asked a single question before I could even say hello. There was an urgency in his voice that I couldn’t ignore. I’ve been chasing the refrigerator ever since.
Carlton Wells is a retired civil servant and aspiring writer. His preferred genre is Mystery, because it’s a mystery when he’ll finally complete that first draft.
JENNIFER LAWSON: Monday, Midnight
Monday, midnight. Not again.
“Hey, anyone up there?” the man on the street yells.
I open my curtains. The street is wet. The man paces in front of Lenny’s Pizza parlor.
I could use a slice of pizza.
“Go home,” I say. “You’re keeping me up, again.”
“I am home.”
Jennifer Lawson is a former Senior UNIX Systems Engineer with a BA in Motion Picture Technology, an MA in Instructional Design, and an MS in Information Security, as well as a former college radio personality.
DEBORAH TAPPER: The Writing’s on the Wall
Other tourists move on, but these two loiter in the pharaoh’s magnificent tomb. Selfies aren’t enough: they’re determined to leave a permanent mark. Laughing at ancient curses, about to scratch their initials into 4,000 years of irreplaceable Egyptian history…
When the guide returns, she stamps on two frantic, scuttling cockroaches.
NATASHA MIHELL: banshee
I have screamed so loud, so often, all that is left is a whisper. Still, I speak—I must. Silence too easily swallows me otherwise, turns my voice to memory; memory, which is all that I am. But even robbed, still, and breathless, even felled… I cannot keep from singing.
Natasha Mihell is a writer and artist-at-heart living on Canada’s West Coast. Her writing often explores the reclamation of self-love, hope, and power, amidst systems and circumstances that threaten hearts and minds. Connect with her at natashamihell.com or @natashamihell.