The story of the week for August 14 to 18 is…
Multiple Choice by Tracy Fells
All posts by Tim
MATTHEW EICHENLAUB: Hope and Despair
One spring morning
A strong wind arose
Waking the old trees
Their young leaves shimmied
Like tiny gymnasts stretching
Practicing handstands and cartwheels
While nearby other giants
Stood somber as if caught
By some old trauma
Some unspeakable shame
That had broken
Their mighty spirit
So many long years ago
Matthew lives and grows in Maine.
EILEEN MCINTYRE: Clouds and Comfort
She looked through her cataract cloud. Her hair, like the bathroom mirror, had silvered. Her face showed cracks like the tile. Toothbrushes… two?
Nothing looked familiar. Not the photo of children that fluttered from her purse to the cold tile floor. Not the gray-haired man who carried her to bed.
Eileen McIntyre writes to the hum of hummingbird wings and listens to critique from crows in the woods of Northern California.
Z SHUFF: The Cut
American Ballet Theatre. Lele auditions tomorrow. Toes blood-raw, shiny cut runs the length of her shin.
Jeté, changement, développé… Feet soaking in tepid water, eyes closed, mentally rehearsing: balance, hold, reach, stretch, point.
Lele wraps her stress fractured arch, traces the stinging laceration—she cut herself so they would see.
Z. Shuff has an M.D. and an M.F.A. She lives, works, and writes in beautiful West Virginia with her husband, their two kids, their dog, and their cat.
TRACY FELLS: Multiple Choice
A myriad of dots fill the screen. He clicks on one to expand it, then scrolls through as many as he can. In each image he sees only himself. He is the same but subtly different, as each universe is unique.
Somewhere, in at least one, he must be happy.
Tracy Fells lives in West Sussex, England. She has won awards for both fiction and drama. Her short fiction has been widely published in magazines, online, and in anthologies. She is the 2017 Regional Winner (Canada and Europe) for the Commonwealth Short Story Prize and has been shortlisted for the Fish, Brighton, and Willesden Herald Prizes. She tweets as @theliterarypig.
AARON HANLON: The White Grass
Soft white grass, pure green sky.
Cotton shirt, like kisses on my neck.
The sun is warm and flowing, washing me in a vanilla-scented mist.
The stab of gin, the spark of tonic on the weather-beaten corduroy wood beside me.
Cane in hand, my dog at my side.
I rest.
Aaron is a fitness and wellness coach. He writes for pleasure and relaxation.
CANDACE KUBINEC: Vital Research
Dr. Gennit was close to a breakthrough. His devotion to finding a cure for Alzheimer’s was legendary.
He’d been caregiver for his mother, watching her steady decline and eventual death.
We thought he was just overworked until he left the lab today.
“I really can’t stay. Mother has dinner ready.”
Candace Kubinec wrote this story.
PAUL HOCK: The Piper’s Salvation
The storm blinded them
“Fetch your pipes!” the captain bellowed
Play and await a response
Standing upon the bow he played
And soon a droning response relayed
With hope renewed, they followed
Finally breaking through nature’s din
To face the cliffs
That echoed his song
A Sirens song
Of doom
Paul Hock wrote this story.
LINDA GRIERSON-IRISH: This Weekend He’ll Definitely Tell Her
He’s rehearsed the lines; it’s almost time.
The train doors slide, he rises, swallows a cocktail of bile and blood.
“Fighting fit,” says his mouth, to keep hers smiling. His sunshine girl.
He flies her bag over his shoulder like it’s candyfloss. “Your mother’s made dumplings, special.”
Same as always.
Linda Grierson-Irish lives in Manchester UK and writes flash fiction and the occasional short story.
MARK FARLEY: My Family Home, the Beast
He swallowed me whole each evening, coughing me up the next day in time for school. He consumed my childhood and my parents’ relationship. Comfort came from the belly rumble of the boiler, the hot breath of the stove. Eventually he spat me out – a hairball tumbling in the wind.
Mark Farley writes novels, flash fiction and the occasional poem.