So, this is what love feels like… increased heart rate, happiness, longing.
A rush that says you can have, do, be anything.
Passion. Hope. Excitement. Expectation.
Belief in the impossible. And now, it’s here- breathtakingly beautiful.
I smile at the girl in the mirror. Loving herself for the first time.
Alyce Clark enjoys reading and writing short stories. Her work has been published by 50-Word Stories and Friday Flash Fiction.
Andy was secretly fearful of fighting. But when his brother was pummeled with eggs, he knew his parents expected him to defend his sibling. Unskilled, Andy boxed, then wrestled on the ground with the lead bully. At home, he proudly explained his black eye.
In his bedroom, he sobbed convulsively.
José J. Morales lives in Albany, New York. He is a retiree of the New York State Education Department. His interests include writing, singing, and oil painting.
She was over two hours late getting home.
Once again, roads that looked familiar had suddenly turned into a mysterious blur of unknown scenery and unrecognizable houses.
Now, finally, on the street where she lived, she ran through excuses.
Did she work late?
Maybe.
Maybe not.
She simply couldn’t remember.
Susan Gale Wickes lives in Indiana. She enjoys writing short stories and cartoon captioning contests.
Walking through empty rooms, one last time. Closing each door, I allow my mind to linger over this year’s occupants. Their baggage, their histories, souvenirs left behind.
Scratched skirtings, cupboards that stick, perpetually noisy pipes and reluctant lights.
And that stain in the carpet
that the guests believe is wine.
Rachel Canwell wrote this story.
Scar, I explain, comes from the Greek word eschara, meaning “place of fire.” Mine is fresh still, still raised and flaming red. I warn him once, twice, three times: don’t touch it. But he doesn’t listen; he never listens to me.
This is what I think about while he burns.
Veronica Montes is the author of the award-winning chapbook The Conquered Sits at the Bus Stop, Waiting (Black Lawrence Press) and Benedicta Takes Wing & Other Stories (Philippine American Literary House). Her flash fiction has been published in Wigleaf, SmokeLong Quarterly, CHEAP POP, Fractured Lit, and elsewhere. See more at veronica-montes.com.
The thrumming of the oud’s strings warmed his chest as he sat outside the garden wall and played a doulab.
If it was willed that she was gone, it was also willed that the sun still rose, to the song of birds, and that he could smell good, strong coffee.
Farley Wright is the anonymous author of numerous critically overlooked unwritten works. His eponymous anthology ‘Unknown’ is currently out of print on e-devices but readily available on vellum scrolls or clay tablets.
Sterling silver, tall candles, white linens, flowers. The texts flooded in: Sorry, Grandma, have to be with the in-laws… Flight canceled… I have a cold… Sending flowers!… Maybe next year. So, dinner for one, from the freezer section. Turkey, potatoes, gravy, green beans. Pumpkin pie. All worthy of prayerful thanks.
Marilyn McFarlane is a travel writer and the author of Sacred Stories: Wisdom From World Religions. She writes poetry and fiction, enjoys the 50-word form, and occasionally explores memoir. She lives in Oregon, where there is a lot of scope for the imagination.
The story of the week for November 22 to 26 is…
The Sun Also Drifts by Sam Hall
Charlotte didn’t know this would be their last conversation.
When she said goodbye, her grandpa had one request: “Be Good.”
She gave a warm hug and left the hospital room with puddled eyes.
He would be gone when she returned from camp, but his words would stay with her forever.
Kate Beasley wrote this story.
Leaves have always intrigued me. They come and go, leaving transparent signs of their departure. First, you see sides of them you never knew. Next, they become a disturbance, lifeless on the ground. Then they’re gone.
People are like leaves. I wish I saw the signs when you were here.
Courtney H. wrote this story.