“Psst. Hey. Come over here.”
“No. I have nothing to say to you.”
“Your father made me a promise and he didn’t follow through.”
“So? He died last night.”
“He sold his soul first.”
“That has nothing to do with me.”
“He used you as collateral. I’m here to collect.”
A graduate of the University of Minnesota’s Creative Writing program, Soma Datta is reinvigorating her poetry and flash fiction muscles after over two decades of writing stories for businesses and brands. She intends to tell her story as a first generation Indian woman growing up between Western and Eastern cultures.
When I was seven I saw forks rising out of the mattress underneath me as I arched above them, terrified.
It happened again last night.
Too old and infirm to move, I lie here impaled by phantom forks through my eyes, mouth, heart, and spine.
They all think I’m dead.
Simon Clarke was born in and raised and currently resides in East Anglia, United Kingdom. He has been writing fiction for at least five years and regularly submits to UK and international publications as well as reading short pieces and poetry at open mic events. He is currently working on his first novel and continues to write short stories and poetry.
When I saw the twinkle in his eyes, I was his, forever more.
It took him only nine years to realize he felt the same about me.
Marriage; a son; joys and sorrows.
On our Silver Anniversary, I fall in love again whenever I see that twinkle in his eyes.
Irene is the Firefox Developer Content Manager. She spends her days writing content for web developers and her evenings and weekends writing very short stories.
The other owners at the dog park eyed Stonewall curiously, attempting to make sense of the dog’s ticking movements. Ian welcomed the attention. Only another skilled horologist would understand the complex automatic movement, and only someone who’d buried one too many beloved dogs would understand his need to build one.
Ran Walker is an award-winning author of sixteen books. He teaches creative writing at Hampton University in Virginia.
“I’m pregnant,” she said.
Her expression showed doubt over his reaction, but also hope.
He smiled, pulled her close, three heartbeats sharing that intimate space.
He remembered his superior’s words: “These are dangerous radicals. Maintain your cover at all costs.”
He understood then that he would never know his child.
Bill lives in Aberdeen, Scotland. See more of his work at northeastnotesblog.wordpress.com
She rests a heavy rock on her stomach and sinks into the sand.
Through the shimmery layer between lake and sky, the blue expanse above looks beautiful enough to plant a seed of doubt.
Her lungs spark and burn.
She shoves the weight off, slowly floating up to the clouds.
Lauren is an aspiring author studying Creative Writing at Emerson College.
There is no cost. The supply is endless and always at our disposal. No boundaries, no rules. They are, however, a double-edged sword. They create us just as we create others.
If they could speak on their own, they would not always approve of our careless abuse of their power.
Charlotte McElroy is an 80-year-old retired teacher. She is finally following her dream: writing!
“Don’t you think it’s time you finish this project up?”
“I’ll get to it, don’t worry.”
“Well the smell is taking hold of the whole house. I’d do it myself, but I worry a piece will come off if I try to move it.”
“It’s just a dead body, Ma.”
Born in Germany, Kerri was raised on the Eastern plains of Colorado. She currently lives in Utah. Although new to short story writing, she has been writing for many years. She mentored her daughter’s writing groups in both middle school and high school years.
Raymond shifted uncomfortably in his armchair as Suzanne raged at him.
“I don’t know why I bother here. I asked you to do one thing, and you forgot. You’re pathetic!”
She left the room, slamming the door.
Raymond shifted uncomfortably in his armchair and switched his hearing aid back on.
David McTigue lives in Liverpool UK, and enjoys reading, crosswords, music, concert going, cooking, and of course writing. Several of his short stories, poems, and crosswords have been published in various magazines and anthologies.
With my back to the steel slabs, I resisted the urge to count the bullets left in my gun. Judging from the force of the blows on the barricaded door, it wasn’t anywhere near enough.
I resigned myself: A morgue was as appropriate of a place to die as any.
A graduate of the Master of Professional Writing program at the University of Southern California, Chad Greene experiments with Twitter fiction at @TheShortCourse.