He was charming and sweet, kind and wise. I told him so, and it made his face glow with pride.
But it was a fantasy. There were difficulties even love could not overcome. A great Dane like myself, married to a Pomeranian? Society’s hand was turned too strongly against us.
This story was based on a title suggested by @MaryHutson.
I am four years old, returning home from grocery shopping with my father, when I realize I’ve left my imaginary friend, Betty, back at the store.
My dad, so patient and kind, drives me back there, where we greet Betty on the sidewalk and he offers her a ride home.
M. Elaine Moore is a North Carolina-based fiction writer and poet. She has completed one novel and is at work on another. She has had several poems published both in online journals and in print.
He was a subculture within a subculture. Cowboys called him “bisonboy,” which wasn’t technically accurate, but it had a better ring to it than “buffaloboy.” He listened to country southern music and wore a 9-gallon hat.
But when he was sad, his tears made mud puddles, just like everybody else’s.
This story was based on a title suggested by @metcarfre.
He really didn’t want to go in.
He’d heard stories about this place, and they weren’t good. The person in charge was mean and scary.
He knew that once he was in, there was no way back: he would be trapped – at least until his mum collected him at three.
Mike Jackson is a retired primary school head teacher who is enjoying having time and freedom to write. You can read more of his writing here.
The gatekeepers see all, never blinking, no matter what the time.
Those who seek the angels don’t see them for they hide in plain sight.
With one foot in each world your fate is decided with the yowl of annoyance or the purr of contentment.
Those wonderful misaligned felines.
Gareth Wilson would call himself a serial reader, slayer of titles, leaving a woody (and shortly electron) swathe in his wake. Currently he is improving his writing skills by cutting his teeth on short pieces to work up to his own full-length title. He reviews general fiction here and YA and children’s books here.
She chose him.
I think what hurt most was that she didn’t choose me. I have nothing against the guy. In fact, I’m happy for him.
But why not me?
Did I use the wrong words? Did I smell funny?
Whatever her reason, I’ll recover. The world holds many puppies.
Every Saturday morning the tables were set up. Goods new and used, handmade and home baked, were put out to browse through.
Every Saturday morning they came, tails tucked between their legs, cowering at the ends of their leashes.
The dogs would never understand the draw of the flea market.
This bonus story was written by Larissa Thiessen. It’s her birthday today, the last birthday she’ll have with the last name “Thiessen,” and that’s largely my fault!
“Where have you been?” they demanded, leaning out of their windows in pajamas and nightgowns. “Did you get lost? Did you think it was funny?”
They hadn’t seen the moon in over a week!
Moon peeked over the horizon at her dearly beloved, the sun, and hid a contented blush.
He fell to his knees and held his hands to his chest, praying earnestly to the Lord.
He sobbed and cursed as they lowered the casket into the ground.
The nurse gently took his arm and led him back inside.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Fredrickson,” she said. “We’ll get you another goldfish.”
Laura Chester is a sixth form student hoping to go to university to study Creative Writing.
Gazelle raised her royal head. “Having overcome the Lioness, our foe, you will now be granted your reward.”
Rhino nodded graciously. “I thank thee,” he rumbled.
Gazelle signalled Monkey, who draped a necklace of brown jasper around Rhino’s prodigious neck.
Rhino smiled softly. The stones matched his lovely Lioness’s eyes.