A breeze scuttles through the jostling limbs of the coppiced chestnuts, and they clatter like masts in a marina.
In my imagination, when the hill is stripped bare, these trees will be crafted into green-winged ships, thrusting proudly towards the broad horizon.
In reality, I know they’ll become fence posts.
Tamsin keeps finding herself writing about trees – but then, literally, we can’t live without them.
The soft glow of dawn
covers my room in rainbows.
Young eyes try to capture them.
My mother’s figure appears in the doorway,
I ask her to join me,
catch her own rainbows.
She simply shakes her head, eyes glassy.
Maybe another day, I think,
Or maybe not.
Lauren loves creative writing and can usually be found in her room writing a poem or short story or on the beach reading. She struggled to stay within the 50-word limit since she loves to talk!
Sometime wet it is
Sometime be cold
Sometime the day be long
Sometime day too short
Sometime you laugh away
Sometime the pain just stays
Sometime be old
Sometime be alive
Sometime be dead you
Sometime God is far away
Sometime in my head
Rob Vass is a concrete guy who got old. Got stuck in the office much like a troll under the bridge growling at office staff and telling war stories of the craft. But he lives on a coffee farm and makes good salsa, growing peppers with his good lady. Who like a good story.
The day before my sixth birthday I sat on mother’s knee and stared into her crystal ball. She’d flinched at shadows that screamed and slammed doors, clutched my arm so hard her nails broke the skin. Among whirling smoke she saw broken skies, suffering, the End…
I only saw you.
Guy was once declared dead by a fortune-telling fish he found in a Christmas cracker. This is his eighteenth 50-word story.
Last drop of oil
Last chunk of coal
A healing earth
Cheap power for all
He climbed into his all-electric
Entered the coordinates to the Zero Carbon Celebration
Sat back for the ride
The first solar flare hit
And all hell broke lose
Paul Hock is from Fergus, Ontario, Canada, and is a writer of historical fiction. See more at paulhock.com
Mrs. Wells allows the Catcher into her home, reminding herself there are too many plates on the table. The fugitives: three colored men of dark complexion. Two colored women, one copper, one chestnut. Her gaze shifts to the six plates cradling crumbs, disregarding the peeping eyes from underneath the floorboards.
When K.B. Carle is not exploring the realms of speculative, jazz, and historical fiction, she avidly pursues misspelled words, botched plot lines, and rudimentary characters. Her work can be found in Pennyshorts and Sick Lit. Magazine.
She appreciated, more than ever, the smell of her coffee and the sunlight reflecting off her back porch. The weather was unfairly perfect. Soon enough, the kids would know. But, for now, she let her smile hide the hopeless, sinking feeling welling up in her gut.
The cancer was back.
Myron Tetreault is a Calgary-based businessman, athlete and author.
The doors of the church closed behind me as the congregation quieted for the baptismal service. Shivering, a woman stepped into the water. The pastor plunged her under. She came up shouting. I thought, Finally, a church with some Spirit.
Eyes heavenward, she announced, “That water’s cold!”
I sighed deeply.
Eddie D. Moore travels extensively for work, and he spends much of that time listening to audio books. The rest of the time is spent dreaming of stories to write and he spends the weekends writing them. His stories have been published by Jouth Webzine, The Flash Fiction Press, Every Day Fiction, Theme of Absence, Devolution Z, and Fantasia Divinity Magazine. Find more on his blog
Filthy concrete stairs.
The stench of urine and vomit drifts upward with growing intensity.
Reaching the steel door at the bottom, you open it swiftly, because you have been holding your breath.
Stepping over beer cans, cigarette butts and used needles, you wonder, “Why don’t I just take the streetcar?”
Michelle is a contributing author in the soon-to-be released Chicken Soup for the Soul: The Spirit of Canada. She writes non-fiction, fiction and poetry. A regular Human Interest contributor for several local publications in Alliston, Ontario, Michelle really enjoys micro-fiction! In March 2017, she was longlisted as a semi-finalist at the Ontario Writers Conference (OWC) Story Starters Contest
; and in April 2016, she was shortlisted as a finalist, also at the OWC-SSC
He walked to the exit escorted by his plaintiffs; those to whom he had entreated. He beheld the brilliant sun. He walked toward the stairs, then climbed beyond; a shroud now covered his head. The floor fell away, he plunged, and his neck snapped. His soul beheld the black sun.
Paul H. Yarbrough is a novelist, short story author and free lance writer of political and social topics. He lives in Houston, Texas. His third novel is coming out later this year. See more at paulhyarbrough.com