His feet were useless. Numb. His hands, too.
Madame Lilly had warned against dosing off during these quickie BDSM sessions. But Leland was a stubborn, silly, silly man, and he’d carb loaded earlier.
The knots were taking their toll.
Had such expensive discipline taught him nothing about patience? About himself?
Larry D. Thacker’s poetry can be found in over a hundred publications including Spillway, The Still Journal, American Journal of Poetry, Poetry South, Mad River Review, The Southern Poetry Anthology, Mojave River Review,Town Creek Poetry, and Appalachian Heritage. His books include Mountain Mysteries, and the poetry books, Drifting in Awe, Voice Hunting, Memory Train, and the forthcoming full collections, Feasts of Evasion and Grave Robber Confessional. His MFA in poetry and fiction is earned from West Virginia Wesleyan College. His stories can be found in past issues of The Still Journal, Fried Chicken and Coffee, Dime Show Review, Pikeville Review, Vandalia Journal, and Grotesque Quarterly. His stories have been nominated for Pushcart and Best of the Net recognitions. Visit his website at larrydthacker.com.
At dawn, Ronnie groaned. He picked up the new watch, his bargain from the market.
He smashed it against the wall. “The deal of the decade!” he exclaimed.
I pretended to be asleep, feeling guilty now. It had probably been a bit much to rewind it by four hours…
A former newspaper journalist, Ciaran Tierney is a digital storyteller and blogger based in Galway, Irealnd. He has a keen interest in Irish culture, music, politics, and travel, and is seeking new challenges in the digital age. Find him at ciarantierney.com.
The rule for any cougar is half your age, then add seven. Anything below this is unacceptable, and would you want to be known as a cradle robber?
I am 54, so under 35 is prohibited. Well that narrows it down a bit.
It also puts me in a predicament.
Vicky is a budding author, living in the remote, rural Irish landscape.
I’m 67. I’ve decided it’s time to grow up.
I’ll no longer use my imagination
Run out into a rainstorm
Go skinny dipping
Laugh and sing songs with my friends
Build sand castles, play in the creek, or write stories.
Hmm… Maybe I’m not ready. Perhaps when I turn 68.
Paul Hock is an author, illustrator, and storyteller. See more of his writing at paulhock.com.
Being a newsreader is hard. Not only do you have to look great, you must have the most current stories in order to keep ratings up.
This is where I have the jump on my competition. My inventor friend helps me make little trips.
“And now for TOMORROW’S news today!”
Susan Cornford is a retired public servant living in Perth, Western Australia. She has pieces published or forthcoming in 50-Word Stories, Akashic Books, Antipodean Science Fiction, CarpeArte Journal, Ghost Parachute, Medusa’s Laugh, Speculative 66, Subtle Fiction, Switchblade, The Fable Online, The Gambler, The Vignette Review, and The Were-Traveler. She considers herself an emerging flash writer.
After her mother’s untimely cremation, the witch pulled down their gingerbread house. In its place she built a new home, using slices of turnip for the roof tiles, runner beans for floorboards, and stems of cauliflower for the walls. No child, she was sure, would ever again bother their family.
Mark Farley writes novels, flash fiction and the occasional poem.
“Show, don’t tell,” you told me. “Use action to illustrate your point.”
Of course, you were right. I’d failed to get what I wanted to say across.
“I really do love you,” I said. Then I picked up my socks from the floor and put them in the wash basket.
David Rae wrote this story. See more at davidrae-stories.com.
Everyone lived happily ever after…
That’s what should’ve happened if Jane hadn’t screwed up. Now we’re behind bars and it’s all that idiot’s fault.
But I’m getting ahead of myself, rambling on without introduction. My poor mam’d be rolling in her grave.
Let’s try again. Hi. My name is Jane.
Jenny Han feels older and acts younger than her age.
The librarian read with vitality. She glanced at her audience of preschoolers and noticed wide-eyed horror. Confused, the librarian continued to read her best.
She startled as scaly fingers covered her own. The monster crawled out the book and purred against her.
She kept reading as long as she could.
Tyrean Martinson (pronounced T + Irene) is a writer, daydreamer, teacher, student, and believer from the rainy side of Washington state. She writes fiction, non-fiction, poetry, and eclectic journal entries. She prefers speculative fiction, but now and then she writes contemporary or historical. She winces when writing kissing scenes, but has no problem writing sword fighting scenes. She believes “write what you know” includes “write what you can imagine.” She has fiction and non-fiction books found all places e-books are sold and she can be found online at tyreanswritingspot.blogspot.com.
“Rats running rampant!” remarks Rachel’s red-headed roommate, Rose.
“Repulsive!” Rachel responds, remembering recent requests regarding rat removal.
“Realistically, rundown rentals’re routinely risky,” replies Rose. “Rodents return repeatedly.”
Rachel rebels, ruining ritzy relative’s rental. Regardless, relative responds requesting Rachel restore Roaring River Ranch Resort.
Realizing rambunctious raccoons reside, Rose runs, relocating.
Lisa Miller wrote this story.