The story of the week for April 21 to 25…
Dishwasher by Alexa Yasmin Ferrer
All posts by Tim
RICHARD A SHURY: Longinus
Darkness swells around me, smothering time. My eyes know no light. My ears see the trickle of water through stone. For sweet short moments I am left alone.
It’s time. The soft pad of the beast, his gentle breath against my skin. The short, sweet moment before he begins again.
Richard A. Shury wrote this story.
RS NELSON: Like Father, Like Son
The boy applies the self-adhesive mustache. His mother holds back tears, registering the striking resemblance with his father. Someday, he might also fight in a foreign war, and his broken body might return to his wife and son.
“Do you like it, Mom?”
She smiles, caressing the rough, artificial fibers.
R.S. Nelson (she/her) is a Latina writer who lives and finds inspiration in Southern California. Her work has been published or is forthcoming in Flash Fiction Magazine, Every Writer, SciFiSat, Every Day Fiction, Twin Bird Review, and elsewhere.
HARMONY MOONEY: The Cost of the Bargain
I haunt my old house these days. Last night, as bats flitted through looking for a way out, I went to check my reflection in my entryway mirror for the first time since I made the bargain. No one was looking back at me. I asked the bats to stay.
Harmony Mooney is a teacher and writer living on the North Coast of California with her husband, two cats, and two dogs.
S JANAKI: My Other Boyfriend is a Mango
He was charming, golden, and soft around the edges. Said he was seasonal but didn’t mention how short that season was. I kept the pit after he left. Planted it in winter, but nothing grew. Sometimes I check the dirt anyway, just in case he changes his mind about permanence.
S. Janaki is a writer and college student based in the Midwest. She likes updating her Goodreads, long walks, and the way Adrienne Lenker writes about futures that never happened.
A GUHA DEB: Zealot
I don’t really pray. You couldn’t offend my god because I have never had one.
But now, I see it dying, to a thousand cheers, and likes and shares, and my rage feels almost devout, my wrath, suspiciously religious.
Art is the prayer we offer at the altar of humanity.
A. Guha Deb is a writer, a student and a chronic procrastinator who writes best on an approaching unrelated deadline. He is currently juggling a dozen hobbies along with the tiny problem of figuring his life out.
ALEXA YASMIN FERRER: Dishwasher
All of her friends are engaged to men with insurance and stock portfolios. You’re next! they demand.
Alone, in places that are clean and beautiful, she outlines the novel she’d like to write. She looks at her chipped nails and the drafts in her notes. She just wants a dishwasher.
Alexa is intense, takes things personally, has never gotten over anything, and is editor of The Miami Native.
EYLEM ZARA BEKTAS: The Train Has Left
The train passes. Tears everywhere, yet the careless breeze of the Mediterranean graces me, leaving traces of my land everywhere. The train departs—at least the figs are swaying in the wind. Empty platform, but please let me wait a little longer, he will be here soon, he will come.
Eylem Zara Bektas studies English Literature and Comparative Literatures. When she is not reading, she writes short stories, flash fiction and poetry. She loves the ocean, both literary and real, and thus considers herself a professional ocean-seeker.
LASARA FIREFOX ALLEN: The Flood
Summer rain fell hard and fast on the steel body of his car, causing an unbelievable racket. Warm nights and fireflies flashed through his mind; memories of childhood.
“The Flood isn’t what I thought climate change would look like,” he blustered out loud to no one as he drove on.
Lasara Firefox Allen (they/them) is the author of Jailbreaking the Goddess and Sexy Witch. They are published in many genres, online and in print. Subscribe to their Substack at: www.substack.com/lasarafirefoxallen. Learn more at www.linktr.ee/lasarafirefoxallen.
JOZZIE STUCHELL VELESIG: A Job Well Done
The sweet smell of the fresh plaster filled the room. Troweled on smooth and soft, hardening, a stone rolled before a tomb. He breathed in the scent of his labor and washed and packed his tools. He’d be long gone when the smell of his ungrateful boss overtook the room.
Jozzie Stuchell Velesig is a Harvard-trained writer and founding member of the Story Street Writers. For more information, visit jozziewrites.com or storystreetwriters.com.