I’d never shopped for my mother before.
She was strong. She was independent. She loved shopping trips.
The suit was elegant. Shades of gold and brown. I could almost see her in it.
Later that week, I did.
She looked beautiful.
We gathered around her to say our last goodbyes.
Susan Gale Wickes is from Indiana and enjoys reading and writing 50-Word Stories.
She cracks the door open, and the feds burst in. One with a clipboard announces she’s been elected President, congratulations. As they dress her in body armor, she sobs and protests, eyes windows for snipers. Clipboard explains she won by a single ballot. Quaking, she wishes she’d remembered to vote.
Graham Robert Scott’s stories have appeared in Barrelhouse, Nature, and Pulp Literature. See more at hemicyon.wordpress.com.
Poseidon drew the short straw.
Hera sighed. “Yes, they’re irredeemable. But I’ll miss those goofballs. Their bridges, computers, MAS*H… Genius.”
The trident swung. The floodwaters flowed. The underworld gained eight billion souls.
Hephaestus prepared the drafting table. “Okay. Humans 2.0.”
Aphrodite nudged Ares aside. “This time, I’ll lead the design.”
Jen Mierisch draws inspiration from science fiction, ghost stories, and the wacky idiosyncrasies of human nature. She lives, works, and writes just outside Chicago, Illinois.
Alone, finally, in the kitchen, she silences the kettle and settles in the chair. The children sleep. The darkened windows reverberate calm.
He will return soon. The gravel drive will first crinkle and then crunch. The car door will bang; his boots will stamp the porch.
But for now, peace.
Melody Leming-Wilson teaches and writes in Portland, Oregon. Her poetry has recently appeared in Windfall, Poeming Pigeon, and Mojave He[art]. She’s just learning to write 50-Word Stories and finding it therapeutic.
We brought a dead fox into our house.
My sad mother said, “We can’t leave it there, not like that.” She tidied it up, sweetened its death mask.
I felt sick but sad too, just like mother said.
The fleas thought, “This is the best thing that’s happened to us.”
Richard lives in England and enjoys wondering where his readers are.
You liked that shelf too. The one at the back by the window that looked onto Olan Mills, Family Photographer. Graphic Fiction. The place where our ten-year-old selves swapped plastic-sheathed tales of Gaul and boy detectives between each other. If only we’d met. Maybe we’d have realised we weren’t alone.
Amanda Quinn lives in the northeast of England where she works as a freelance writer and tutor. Her writing has been published by Shooter Literary Magazine, Open Pen, Ellipsis Zine, Butcher’s Dog, and Spelk Fiction among others. She can be found online at amandaquinn.co.uk and on Twitter at @amandaqwriter.
I can’t believe I’m in the hospital from an asthma attack. I’ve never had one this bad before.
Before I can call Mom, she calls me.
She says, “Your twin sister is in the hospital. She’s okay, but she almost drowned.”
Ugh. I should have known this was her fault.
RJ Gordon is a wildlife biologist and environmental educator located in Upstate New York.
After I died I watched my invention rolling on through generations and centuries—ever larger, ever faster, more numerous, powered at last by the burning of Earth’s darkest fuels until the air itself changed and the suffocating world headed towards another night.
I would uninvent the wheel, if I could.
Fiona M Jones wrote this story.
It’s actually a story of convergence Shirley shared—of ideas, opportunities, will. A tale where hope is unravelled by hope. It involved:
- Her 150 pound husband.
- A water ski rope.
- Two 60 pound huskies.
- A new pair of rollerblades.
- A freshly paved road.
- A fence.
- And a wandering cat.
Hayden Kamide is an unpublished fictional writer from Central New York. He is trying to keep his byline to twenty (shoot!)
Attempting to be funny, Sherman asked our eccentric math professor what “infinity” was.
The professor smiled and took a piece of chalk and drew a line around the room fifty times, before dragging it past the classroom door, down the long corridor, to his car.
We never saw him again.
Ran Walker is the author of the forthcoming 50-word story collection THE STRANGE MUSEUM. He credits this site with inspiring him to write so many stories.