Of unknown origin, the Strangers became our saviors. War, famine, plague—ended. Progress happened swiftly, and society flourished.
No one noticed the changes right away; they came slowly, like a creeping fog. Four hundred years made us complacent.
By the time we realized they were gone, it was too late.
Sean Fox is a New England native living in California. He holds a B.A. in English from Western Connecticut State University. When he writes, people tend to die.
“It’s good to see you.”
“I hoped we could talk.”
Wished we didn’t have to.
“It’s been too long.”
Not long enough.
Leaning against the air-hockey table, shoes white against the slushy stain, she replies:
“It’s been two days, Tyler. And I only came to get my backpack.”
Kerry teaches English with the comfortable assuredness that he is almost often not wrong about it.
In the night I am worthless. I dissolve as the darkness presses down onto me. I curl into the toxic embrace of the silent emptiness within and without.
The baby feeds on, needy and warming. A tiny golden thread of love connects us, draws me back up to the light.
Rebecca Williams loves the darker side of fiction and is currently working on a novel about two housewives on a vigilante crime spree. She also dabbles in flash and shorter fiction – you can find her work in EllipsisZine, Spelk, The Cabinet of Heed, Retreat West and more. She can be found on Twitter at @stupidgirl45
Endless pots of coffee drunk. Countless pages gorged upon, regurgitated, wept over. Knowledge tested and realized. Credits accumulated. She reached the end of the text only to find a perplexing blank page.
They call her name. The tassel dangling from the mortarboard throws her off-balance as she traverses the stage.
Kara Johnson-Martinez is a freelance writer and novelist based in Colorado. For a preview of her fiction visit kararochelle.com.
When Mrs Brain’s dog bit off her thumb, the whole village soon heard about it.
As the rumours spread, the thumb became all five fingers, which in turn became her hand.
In this way, the village devoured more of Mrs Brain than Lucky had ever done, or hoped to do.
Alanna writes short stories and flash fiction and works in publishing in Oxfordshire. She can be found on Twitter at @alannamadeleine
A void sits in between his rib cages; he lacks the beating bit of flesh that makes humans human. So, she fills the emptiness with memories of overgrown moss and poisonous flowers, along with false promises of eternity.
It is the closest thing to her heart that she can give.
Penny Senanarong is currently an A-Level student who grew up in the bustling city of Bangkok. Although Thai is her mother tongue, the world of English language and literature fascinates her, and she wishes to be a part of it through writing fiction.
The saucers appeared at 12:15 pm on Feast Day, when we celebrate victory over body shaming and our collective morbid obesity.
The saucers searched for intelligent life, abundant natural resources or a population able to power their work force back home.
The saucers left at 12:16 pm on Feast Day.
Chelsea Roberts on most days can be found writing essays and short stories at pastpaperanswers.com
She told me that the cruelest part of it all, after it was over and she was finally allowed to leave the hospital and come home again, was that they had taken the crib away without even telling her.
They pretended like it had never been there to begin with.
Dave Novak works in a fairly serious office that sends him to strange and mysterious places throughout New Jersey. Whenever he feels like being more or less serious, he writes. You can check out his works and thoughts at dumbstupidfakestories.wordpress.com
After an extensive search I found a great piano tuner. He showed me pictures of his paintings. I said he was very talented and he should be working on his art rather than tune pianos. Two years later he took my advice and now I don’t have a piano tuner.
Israela Margalit is a playwright, television writer, concert pianist, recording artist, and recently a published author of short fiction and creative nonfiction, with awards or honors in all categories.
I can’t turn my back on you, even though we’re now strangers.
Once you were brave and clever. Your body gave me pleasure, comfort and delight.
Now your limbs tremble. Your mind wanders. The strong man is a lost boy.
In sickness and in health. Until death do us part.
Lucia Saja wrote this story.