We used to talk for hours about films and art, but now you just deliver monologues about your boring job, your arthritic toe, and the awful weather.
I’m shocked by how quickly you changed closeness into carefully manipulated distance.
Now you’ve unfriended me. I only wish I’d got there first.
Juliet is an adult education tutor, crafter, and conservation volunteer based in Edinburgh, UK. She blogs at craftygreenpoet.blogspot.com and tweets at @craftygreenpoet.
You’re the responsible one, his will said. I leave these to you.
She opens the albums. Carefully labeled photos; dates, names, genealogical charts, news clippings.
Also: many pictures of her brother, but none of her.
Out of respect for the dead, she waits six months before she burns it all.
Graham Robert Scott teaches writing at a university in north Texas. His stories have appeared in Barrelhouse Online, Nature, and X-R-A-Y Literary Magazine.
The acrid smell of July fourth fireworks burned Stella’s throat. She handed the firecracker to the pyrotechnician. He attached a wire and set it off to the side.
At nightfall, the crowd cheered as it burst into red, white, and blue.
Stella watched Ed’s cremains descend.
“Enjoy your wish, sweetheart.”
Jenise Cook lives with her husband and their herding dog in the north-central highlands of Arizona where it snows. Jenise enjoys visitors to @jenisecook on Twitter, @jenisecook on Medium.com, and at JeniseCook.com, where you can find a list of her published works.
Game, set, match.
After a four-hour battle, X has finally defeated Z. It is the first time in their long careers.
X walks to the net, outstretches his hand, but Z barely shakes it.
“First in a thousand,” Z disdainfully mutters.
“Maybe,” X says. “But the first of a million.”
Alice Cimino is a student who loves writing and thrives to improve. Does she have time? Not necessarily. But does time matter? It depends on how you see it…
Her lip curled like a snake on Medusa’s head—curled as if to say someone who still lived in our hometown couldn’t possibly allude to Greek mythology.
She’d had her hair done at some city salon, and she dared to insult me on my home turf at the Piggly Wiggly.
Alison Yong is the office manager of a cemetery in Boston, Massachusetts. She may be the only presenter in the history of the world to have her recorded speech at the Harvard Graduate School of Education censored for filth. She loves green tea lemonade.
He turns off the flashlight. They’re in total darkness. Water laps against their boat. A drop of water lands on her head.
“It’s just a cave kiss,” he says.
She doesn’t like caves or boats. She does love this man. She closes her eyes and dreams she is the moon.
Candace Kubinec posts her stories at storydribbles.wordpress.com and her poetry at rhymeswithbug.com.
—tornado, Jefferson City, MO, May 22, 2019
Trails of debris, rooftops blown into sand, a photograph of a two-week-old baby.
She said, I just wanted someone from my family to call, to see if we’re OK—
and the tornado’s breath came from her, stuttering sobs as loud as the storm.
Michael H. Brownstein wrote this story.
The day fertilizer was delivered, he showered it down hollering, “Girl, watch our corn grow!” His eyes always checked the skyline for clouds.
Fallow fields all around; only thing growing fast is cancer. Rain healed the crops. Now I wheel Dad into the storms, praying it will heal him too.
Madeleine Kleppinger is a writer with a day job as a scientist in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. She hosts a blog that helps readers discover their greatest story, with weekly posts that range from book reviews to original short stories to lifestyle pieces about adventurous living. Her free time is spent bounding through the wilderness with her American Bulldog, Sonnet.
I drove truck for rock’n’roll. My 303rd day on the road in 1975, I hit and killed a German Shepherd. He died with head up, mouth open, telling me: “Stay on the road, you die. Get off the road, you live!”
Next day, took his advice and quit. Thank Dog.
Glenn Schiffman drove a big rig for the entertainment industry for 20+ years. He currently lives in Montana where he writes, tells stories, and hangs out with his grandsons.
I park my car nose outwards, gather my clothes already in the evening, and shave myself symmetrically from both sides at the same time.
You may never know when the alarm goes off. Always have a cereal bar with you. Wee as soon as you feel it.
Beep beep beep. Run!
Gergely is a volunteer paramedic thankful to be able to see sometimes the spellbinding and wonderful moments of birth both to this world and to heaven.