After the robbers escaped the bakery, the townspeople found Bugman crouched over a flooding anthill.
“I had to save them,” he explained.
“But I lost ten thousand dollars!” cried the baker.
“Are ten thousand dollars more important than these million lives?”
“Yes!” everyone answered.
That was the day Bugman retired.
Emily Swaim is a freelance writer who, like many freelancers, spends too much time on the internet.
Even maple leaves know when to let go, when to surrender. Not Bethany Carter. She holds on tight to her memories of Jeremiah Rambo.
He will be back. With a name like that, how could she forget?
Bethany visits his grave every Sunday simply to re-read the inscription, “Just Resting.”
Recently retired, Marian Brooks has begun to write some short fiction. Her work has appeared in Word Riot, First Stop Fiction, The Linnet’s Wings, Curly Red Stories and others. Read more of her work at marianbrooksauthor.com.
It was the ultimate remote control.
It turned the lights on and off. It controlled the TV and the oven. It opened and shut the doors and started the car. It made it rain or snow. It could control anything.
Everything was fine until he pressed the “All Off” button.
Harry Demarest has retired after careers encompassing scientific research, teaching at a university, software development, web application development, and voter database compilation and distribution. He is now spending his time with his grandchildren and writing memoirs and short stories.
The needle never moved as she stepped on the bathroom scale. She’d done it. She’d finally lost all the weight. Every bit of it. Unfortunately, she couldn’t admire the effects of her weight loss in the mirror, or snap a cellphone selfie to post.
Being a ghost had its drawbacks.
Elizabeth Archer drinks too much coffee and writes flash fiction. She is working on a novel.
Designer suit, locks flowing in the wind, and accessories to compliment the hardware on her handbag. I wanted to walk in her shoes.
Dreams of distinction, I memorized her outfit from head to toe. Her left stride exuded confidence. The right was seemingly hesitant.
Leather shoe unbound; bunion completely exposed.
Shelly Eady is an emerging writer with faith, hope, and a heart’s desire to enrich, inspire, and encourage through the art of written creativity.
“Honey, there’s a zombie on the lawn.”
“Already? Well, get the candy.”
“No, I think it’s a real one.”
“Dear, it’s Halloween. But boy does that makeup look convincing. I’m going to ask how he did it…”
Diary Entry, October 31, 2013: The humans have finally lowered their guard. It begins today.
It is my opinion that Halloween was designed by monsters to gradually lure humanity into a trap. And when it starts, how will we know who’s really a monster and who’s just wearing a costume? Beware!
Happy Halloween, everyone. Have fun and stay safe.
Loneliness had been an epidemic that left all of my body boarded up. You were supposed to be the cure.
But I’m still feeling sick. I hope you can forgive me; I am going to eat this whole sandwich alone.
Because I am hungry, and because you are not real.
Couri Johnson is a graduate student of the NEOMFA, focusing on fiction. She is currently the president of YSU’s Student Literary Arts Association, and editor of the Jenny.
After school, I would follow the railroad home. I walked the iron bars step by step by deliberate step, pretending it was a tightrope in the sky and touching the gravel was the equivalent of falling to my death.
To be honest, talking to you gives me the same feeling.
Alison Mirabella is a librarian-by-day, writer-by-night and grad- student-for-whatever-time-is-left living on Long Island. She has nothing published yet, but she is really good at making tiny origami stars. That’s something, right? Check out her Tumblr: i-a-m.tumblr.com
Karen and I walked through the club admiring the performer’s dress.
“I love the design; it compliments her broader frame,” Karen said.
“The sequins are spectacular!” I added.
“We love your dress!” I called towards the catwalk.
The dancer pivoted and my visage changed.
“Jim!” I gasped at my husband.
Miss Pam is a dance teacher, choreographer, and makeup artist. In her free time she enjoys writing, reading, painting, acting, and participating in artistic projects!
“Thank you all for joining us on this first annual Thanksgiving Day,” intoned Tyrone.
“Your hospitality has been wonderful!” said Brenda Brachiosaur.
“A splendid idea,” said Stewart Stegosaur. “Please do invite us back.”
“Actually,” said Tyrone, flashing his Tyrannosaurus teeth, “I expect we’ll be needing new guests next year.”
Chomp.
Happy Canadian Thanksgiving, everyone! (Americans: enjoy yours next month.)