The story of the week for June 2 to 6 is…
Queue by Tomiko Nanashi
All posts by Tim
JOANNA NORLAND: The Aborted Suit of the Epic Hero Trapped in a Fifty-Word Tale
Lady, to merit thy love, I coaxed a golden tear from King Midas’s eye, which I bartered for a mermaid’s song.
I used her voice to lull a Dragon while I snatched his diamond tooth.
This, I present to you, peerless Lady, and humbly pray on bended knee, wilt thou—
Joanna Norland has learned through painful experience always to check the word count and trim where possible.
MEREDITH McLEAN: Gumnut Trees
The one next to yours says Lilly. It’s fitting that yours has gumnut trees embossed and hers has ladybird engravings. I like to think somewhere you are together, talking, growing up. It’s been so long I’ve forgotten your actual birthday. I’m guilty, embarrassed, but I still do think of you.
Meredith McLean is an Australian writer now living in Japan. She has been published in magazines such as Aniko Press, Sojournal and Denizen’s Digest. You can follow her on Instagram at @here.with.meredith
JOANNE MERRIAM: Ring Around the Coffeepot
“This your boss?”
She sobbed for the benefit of the police, hands itching to clean the blood around the coffeepot.
“No. He just thought he was.”
Making her fetch coffee, as though that were her job. She frowned at the leaking corpse making the mess on the carpet worse. Typical.
Joanne Merriam lives in Nova Scotia. Her writing has appeared in dozens of periodicals including Baltimore Review, Pictura, and Under the Basho. She owns Upper Rubber Boot Books, known for the first English-language anthology of solarpunk, Sunvault. You can find her at joannemerriam.com.
ROBERT LUDEMANN: Loss of a Champion
He was tired of setting world records. Everyday for eight years, thousands of world records. For walking a mile, for riding a bike, for waking up in the morning, another world record. He had the world record for the most world records.
Then the oldest human to ever live
died.
Robert Ludemann is happily retired and dodging as much responsibility as possible.
STORY OF THE MONTH: May 2025
The Story of the Month is chosen from the Story of the Week winners announced from the past month.
The finalists for May were:
Eye of the Beholder by Alicia Cox
Swimming by Melanie Winklosky
What Remains by Susan Hunt
The Visit by Terry Gallagher
I Grow a Metropolis by Rachel Turney
Inheritance by Nathan Jones
Questions for the Woman Crying in the Office Bathroom by Nina Feinberg
The winner of the May 2025 Story of the Month is…
Inheritance
PATRICK G ROLAND: After Halloween
I snuck a treat from each child’s treat bag. They never noticed. I always took the same from each bag—kept things even.
In the spring, I cleaned and decluttered. I found my missing watch, wallet, and keys under the kids’ beds, wrapped in old candy wrappers. Now we’re even.
Patrick G. Roland is a writer and educator living with cystic fibrosis. He explores life’s experiences through storytelling, seeking to inspire others in the classroom and through writing. His work appears or is forthcoming in Hobart, Sacramento Literary Review, Maudlin House, and others.
ROBERT CARLBERG: The Timecake
Marlon got his first timecake for his 40th birthday. He ate a quarter of it, taking him back to 30 again, a good time for him. He wanted the opportunity to rethink a few decisions made in his mid-thirties… particularly those that led to his new family and the timecake.
This story came to Robert Carlberg in a dream. As these things do, it made more sense in the dream.
JOHANNES SPRINGENSEISS: Options
This morning I find a bunch of Tico kids fishing, probably for trucha [trout], next to the bench I’m sipping my Cafe Britt.
One of them asks me why I’m not fishing.
I tell him, “I’m thinking.”
He says, “Senor, you’d be better off fishing.”
The kid might be right.
Johannes Springenseiss is a world citizen and raconteur. He mostly writes speculative fiction and creative essays that he has published in literary magazines worldwide.
TOMIKO NANASHI: Queue
At the lost-and-found, I asked for my courage. The clerk checked, shrugged: “Claimed by doubt six years ago.” I got back in line, this time for memory. They handed me a photo of a sky I didn’t recognize. I kept it anyway. It looked like something I might’ve believed in.
Tomiko Nanashi enjoys tea, handwritten letters, and never saying too much.