Splinters of wood from my door lay scattered on the floor. The intruder, eyes wild, face thin, pointed towards the window. “Trying to kill me. Ninjas on the roof.”
I dialed 911.
Cuffs on wrists; police took him away.
A metallic flash. A small throwing star embedded in the doorframe.
Roni Slye travels the land in search of hot springs, cool forests, and creative sparks. Her work has been published at The Molotov Cocktail and Nailed Magazine.
they are going to vote ‘guilty’
and she refuses to believe
the new procedures are fair
nervous as she ascends the podium
unfolding her statement – she is not
convinced that bias has been eliminated
a dozen people deliberating in a room
is better than
a million poised behind smartphone screens
Note: Now read the story from the last line through to the first!
Alanah Andrews is an English teacher in Australia. She is the author of “Beyond,” A Short Story Collection of twisted tales, ghosts, aliens, murder, and “beyond.” You can follow her at facebook.com/alanahandrewsauthor.
The doppelganger couldn’t fool Bracken. She knew it wasn’t her master. Wasn’t even human. The scent was off, alien.
The rest of the family didn’t notice, but she knew.
However, the creature seemed happy to walk her as much as she wanted, so maybe she wouldn’t miss Bob after all!
Bill Cox is from Aberdeen, Scotland where he has been procrastinating for the past forty-nine and a bit years.
The platform’s empty. The train isn’t due for almost an hour, but I’m in no hurry.
Someone left yesterday’s newspaper on the bench. Another celebrity wedding. Another mass shooting. Same old, same old.
Tomorrow will be different. “Woman saves child,” it will say.
This time I’ll stop him from falling.
Kim McGreal lives in the UK with her husband, daughter, and a cat that believes scritches are more important than writing. She can be found on Twitter @kimsfic.
There must be 50 words to leave your lover.
Goodbye, see you later, don’t call, don’t text, don’t call or text again, it’s over, you cheated, I cheated, it’s not you it’s me, moving away, found someone online, with your brother or sister, with your best friend.
All recently used.
Denny E. Marshall has had art, poetry, and fiction published, including fiction in Night To Dawn April 2018. See more at dennymarshall.com.
It wasn’t a typical summer day that David woke to. Silence was the most obvious difference and it was stifling.
A glance through the window and fear replaced confusion. Trees, infrastructure were nonexistent.
He felt no sensation as he rose effortlessly and stared at his bedroom mirror. It was empty.
Gordon Lysen enjoys retirement, passing the time with writing, painting, carving and carpentry.
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.
Some wild-eyed vagrant bursts into a studio and tells a young artist about the evil he’s done and his years on the run. He hands the artist a pistol.
The artist listens attentively before recognising the vagrant’s eyes as his.
Terror… Then resignation follows as he slowly squeezes the trigger.
One of Connell’s many dilemmas is whether to write a bit or not before going to bed. When he writes, he’s sleepy the next day, and when he doesn’t, the ideas slip away.
He wondered, first, why it hadn’t died.
Grey fur, scarce, in patches. Full of fleas, and two tender red eyes. Worms. Some bones broken, limbs bent.
Loaded the gun. Shot it. “Rest, now.”
But when it raised its head again, he realized:
Perhaps it was never alive to begin with.
Uzair Shahed Islam is an economics and mathematics student at the Lahore University of Management Sciences who writes fiction and non-fiction in his spare time.
Picasso owned a cat who controlled the weather in Paris. When he painted the cat yellow, it was sunny. Purple, and lightning broke out.
People gathered outside Picasso’s door at sunrise and waited for him to put out the cat. “Darn, more rain,” they said during the cat’s blue period.
Jay Gershwin lives in New York. You can get a free copy of his novel, Poor Man’s Autumn, through Amazon.