Camping! The family hadn’t done this since Arrow was a pup.
His tail wagged wildly as he sniffed every tree.
He was digging—something smelled exciting—when he saw his family was gone.
They’d be back. He was a good boy.
Tail still, Arrow waited by the road, forever loyal.
L.L. Madrid has an overactive imagination and a short attention span. Naturally, she writes flash and microfiction.
They showed up at dusk on Mother’s Day with cake and ice cream. Three greasy-haired boys. The handsome one said, “Our own mothers are dead. We hope you don’t mind.”
Mind, she thought. What was there to mind? Death, cake, inconsolable boys?
“We want to celebrate your life in reverence.”
Over the years Bob Thurber’s work has received a long list of awards and prizes. His most recent book is a collection of brief stories titled “Nothing But Trouble”. His first novel “Paperboy: A Dysfunctional Novel” will be rereleased in May 2016. Visit BobThurber.net.
She rocks him slowly, gently in her arms, his tears still sparkling on hot, red cheeks, too exhausted to sleep.
Motherhood. When does she get to feel as if she’s doing this right?
He opens his eyes suddenly, sighs, then yawns sleepily.
At this moment, she is doing it perfectly.
Jackie was thrilled to have her first attempt at flash fiction published recently, and is hoping to keep up the momentum with more in the future, as well as working on her fourth novel and a travel journal.
Sometimes, life can change in an instant.
For Sharon, it began with a series of pain waves, each one more agonising than the last. It rose, peaked, and fell. She grimaced, yelled, and cried. Inhale, exhale, repeat.
After 14 long hours, the life-changing moment finally arrived.
A healthy baby girl.
Carrie is childless and incapable of entertaining kids for more than thirty minutes at a go. However, her secret pleasure is reading children’s storybooks—to herself, alone.
My love lies with her head on a silken pillow, hair brushed, hands gracefully over one another. Not at all like she used to sleep, one arm over her face, the other across my chest.
Her favorite dress stretches taut across her belly; another love, forever entombed inside the other.
Alexandra Keister is an executive assistant and writer hungry for success, and on most days a good maple bar.
Grandpa snapped open the latches. The case creaked as he pulled up the lid.
“Why are you keeping our stubs? They’re not worth anything.”
Grandpa smiled over his shoulder. “We had fun though, didn’t we?”
Twenty years later in that dusty attic, I cherished those priceless tickets. “Love you, Grandpa.”
Jason wishes he could have met his grandfathers, and wishes he visited his grandmothers more when he had the chance. He marvels at how value lies in the eyes (and heart) of the beholder.
The man runs toward the café. His red coat and yellow umbrella are bursts of color in the rainy gray.
Earlier, he slammed the door shut at our home because of a misunderstanding.
He smiles as he sits at my table, erasing the stinging words we threw at each other.
Gabriela Abraxas lives and writes in Los Angeles.
I smelled her perfume, that flowery muskiness she used to drown herself in. It tickled my nose just the same. I imagined her dancing past in her wispy skirt, as if she still couldn’t let go of childhood ballerina dreams.
Just the way I still can’t let go of her.
Laura Widener is a wife, mother, and coffee addict living in rural Georgia. She holds degrees in Sociology and Human Services, and completed her MFA in Writing at Lindenwood University. Her forthcoming work will be found in Riding Light and NoiseMedium, and her previous work can be found in TWJ Magazine, Morpheus Tales, and Life in 10 Minutes. Visit her blog at incessantpen.wordpress.com.
She’d never liked fog; it always seemed smothering and inescapable. Like Life. Like Motherhood.
Today, the cool grey mist wrapped around her felt open and somehow freeing.
Her eyes fell to the stone at her feet and she wondered what she could do now that she’d buried her last child.
Melissa is a writer, teacher, and dog lover in the Middle of Nowhere, Michigan.
It’s clichéd but she’s beautiful: elegant white dress, straight blonde hair, and a modest bouquet in hand.
He remembers when they first met, how he’d imagined her just as she looks now, with that cute smile.
He sighs… She obviously picked another. Time to log out and close that window.
Joey is not on social media partly to avoid such revelations but you can find him at joeytoey.com.