The sunrise woke me without a sound.
I rolled off of the stiff hotel mattress and tried to get ready for the meeting, but the silence was too loud.
My son called. “Dad?”
“Is everything okay?”
“I just wanted to say good morning.”
“Oh, good morning.”
And then it was.
Seth Pilevsky lives in New York with his wife and five kids. He loves to wake up to a noisy house. His work has been published in the Long Island Literary Journal, Literally Stories, Memoir Magazine, Stinkwave’s Magazine and in the YA Anthology entitled, What Doesn’t Kill You. Sign up for updates at his website, spilevsky.com.
Michael really likes you,
Her parents insisted
When she was 20
I find him dull, she countered
You can’t be too particular, her father said
You have to think about what you have to offer.
Was it her extra pounds he meant?
Or her personality?
She wished she had asked
Miriam Stein is a social worker, writer, and the author of Make Your Voice Matter With Lawmakers: No Experience Necessary. See more at makeyourvoicematter.com. She lives in Massachusetts.
The honeymoon patch of sunlight grew darker, obscured by the thick tangle of unknowing surrounding us.
I looked up. She hummed silently. The song resonated in her eyes, as if seeing the work already done.
I followed her, also humming, and we worked together, feeling ourselves victors through the pain.
Every day Sasha tries to give his heart to his writing, and every day his cat, Sebald, snatches it up for himself. Find his words and cat pics on Instagram and Facebook at @sashaandsebald.
He was the only boy I ever loved.
We sat side-by-side on the beach, stealing kisses and pointing out funny-shaped clouds. His laugh was soft as sea foam, his hair as light as sand.
“Looking into your eyes is like searching for treasure,” he said.
Seems he never found it.
Guy found his treasure at the seaside. This is his twenty-third 50-word story.
Mrs. Woodham committed her Japanese garden to memory as the moving van swallowed the last of her furniture. The driver ambled over and hefted the five-gallon ceramic planter beside her walker.
“All set, Miss Margaret. The tree rides up front?”
She smiled at the gnarled cherry branches overhead and nodded.
Elizabeth Spencer Spragins is a poet, writer, and editor who taught in community colleges for more than a decade. Her tanka and bardic verse in the Celtic style have been published in Europe, Asia, and North America. Recent work has appeared in the Lyric, Blueline, Borrowed Solace, Ariel Chart, and Page & Spine. The Language of Bones, a collection of her bardic verse, is scheduled for publication by Kelsay Books in summer 2019.
“I’ll take my lunch later,” I told my head nurse.
I held Betty’s hand while her breathing slowed to almost nothing. Her family hadn’t visited in weeks.
“It’s okay. You can go now. He’s waiting for you.”
I smoothed her hair, and she relaxed as she took her last breath.
Catherine McAllister loves her work as an emergency room nurse and also enjoys teaching nursing students. She has two lovely daughters, three lively dogs, and a supportive husband. She writes in her free time.
Mother watched the fire on TV. She took down my father’s flag case, crying and incoherent, and then, in her confusion and fear, she dropped the case. The glass shattered, and the case slid under the tv, under Notre Dame as it burned, the fire reflected in her empty eyes.
Elizabeth Moura lives in a converted distillery and works with elders. She has had poetry, flash fiction, or photographs published in The Heron’s Nest, Chrysanthemum, Atlas Poetica, Presence, Shamrock, Flash, Paragraph Planet, Flash Fiction Magazine, O:JA&L, and Occulum.
On Grandma’s swaying porch, feet planted firmly on the top step, I feel her smile, hear her laugh, see her wrinkled eyes. Screen door swings on rusty hinges and I smell her famous peach cobbler.
“Well, come on,” mother says and I walk in, past the reverend with the urn.
A-Jae is a storytelling wordsmith who writes literary fiction and creative nonfiction, both the truth and otherwise. She is currently working on her first novel and an MFA at SF State. Find out more about her at ajaewoodberry.com.
He loved her all his life. He waited, growing up knowing she was out there, even before he met and married her.
The sun settled behind the hills every day, but today had special meaning. He would be facing tomorrow alone for the first time. Now, she waited for him.
NT Franklin writes cozy mystery short stories, nostalgia short stories, and Flash Fiction and has been published in 50 Word Stories, Page & Spine, Scarlet Leaf Review, Fiction on the Web, Madswirl, Postcard Shorts, 404 Words, 101 Words, Freedom Fiction, Burrst, Entropy, Alsina Publishing, Fifty-word stories, Dime Show Review, and more.
What if I’d held Sophie close
What if I’d whispered:
‘What if something happens to you?’
What if I’d insisted.
If only I’d taken heed of the weather forecast
If only I hadn’t walked into the storm
If only I’d stayed home
If only I’d listened to Mike
S.B. Borgersen writes, knits socks, and accepts that, at 75, there is still plenty to learn as she studies beginner piano on the shores of Nova Scotia Canada. Sue’s favoured genres are micro fiction and poetry but she does have thirteen draft novellas gathering dust. See more at sueborgersen.com.