Excitedly, young Aisha skipped from the packed boat to the beach. Her parents’ faces lifted slightly upon seeing her joy. The sun painted the summer holiday she’d always dreamed of right onto the sand. Her parents exchanged a look laden with relief at seeing the beach empty of border police.
Tom lives with his young family in New Zealand and works as a primary school teacher. He has had a passion for stories ever since learning to walk and is currently working on a series of fantasy novels.
My youngest brother, who was there at the time, said it went like this:
On his 90th birthday, Pop said with a lilt in his voice, “Always hoped I’d make it to 90.”
[deep, throaty sigh]
[loooooong pause]
Then he very softly continued, “Hope I don’t make it to 91.”
Trevor’s fiction and non-fiction have appeared in print and digital publications since the 1970s. He’s a mononymous, multiple award-winning, full-time entertainer who likes hyphens. See more at trevorthegamesman.com.
The story of the week for July 8 to 12 is…
Sporting a New Baseball Cap by Lynn Kozlowski
Bills and clients call from screeching screens. Phones clang. But instead, amid a canopy of stars, my older sister tells me to relax. To breathe, to inhale. She takes my hand. We waltz to Tchaikovsky, while summer psithurisms whisper and a full moon rises, casting the brightest beacons, shadows fleeing.
Mir-Yashar Seyedbagheri is a graduate of Colorado State University’s MFA fiction program. His stories, “Soon,” “How To Be A Good Episcopalian,” “Tales From A Communion Line,” and “Community Time,” have been nominated for Pushcart Prizes. Mir-Yashar’s work has been published in SmokeLong Quarterly, The Journal of Compressed Creative Arts, and Ariel Chart, among others. He has been working on a short story collection centered around two siblings and their quest for the American Dream. Mir-Yashar lives in Garden Valley, Idaho.
Losing marbles—a common event.
When others lose theirs, few lament,
but when we lose our own, though very few,
we never notice, but others do.
Of those remaining, not yet redacted,
some roll away while we’re distracted.
Memories are rarely carved in stone—
including favorites we call our own.
Ken Gosse usually writes whimsical, rhymed verse. First published in First Literary Review–East in November 2016, later in Pure Slush, Home Planet News, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Spillwords, and many others. Raised in Chicago suburbs, now retired, he and his wife live in Mesa, AZ, with rescue dogs and cats.
“I am your conscience,” wheezed the delivery man. She forced a smile and signed for the package.
After he left, she shook her head and whispered, “Poor guy, he should realize community theater doesn’t make him an actor.”
Still, she hasn’t been able to look into his eyes ever since.
J. S. O’Keefe is a scientist, trilingual translator and writer. His short stories and poems have been published in Everyday Fiction, Roi Faineant, 101 Words, Spillwords, ScribesMICRO, 50WS, AntipodeanSF, Friday Flash Fiction, Spirit Fire Review, Medium, Paragraph Planet, WENSUM, 6S, Satire, MMM, etc.
When I was young, todays lasted forever, tomorrows were made of dreams, and yesterdays piled up, forgotten.
Then, todays weren’t long enough, spilling into tomorrows, and yesterdays were mere flashes of success or regret.
But now, todays fly by filled with yesterdays, each tomorrow welcomed as a moment of grace.
A prolific writer, Carol Reeves is loving the freedom and challenge of Flash Fiction. Her stories often reflect the blessings and vicissitudes of aging. She is often published in 50-Word Stories and Flash Fiction Magazine. Her memoir, “All the Little Miracles,” was published in 2022.
“Mummy, I want a baby sister.”
“Then every Sunday morning, creep into the garden,” she says. “Hunt for lucky four leaf clovers ’til Daddy calls out, ‘Pancakes!'”
I hunt and hunt. Never find even one.
But just before Christmas, baby Felicity arrives.
And all because of my hunting, Mummy says.
Joanna Norland is a writing coach, playwright and mother of two. Which leaves her just enough time to scribble fifty fictional words a month. See more at mumswrite.com.
A condescending acquaintance questioned an amateur musician.
“How’d your backyard concert go?”
“Great. The crowd spilled out into the alley.”
“I’ll bet you didn’t receive any material compensation.”
“Actually, I was given a portion of the gate.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I got a couple of boards and one of the hinges.”
John H. Dromey has micro-fiction, flash fiction, and short stories published in about 220 venues.
They gave him a wide berth as he shuffled past them. Not out of respect, but out of fear. Not fear that he would harm them; he seemed innocuous. But as he rummaged through the dumpster, he reminded them of how close they all were to the edge of ruin.
Marinda Kotze lives above a 24/7 supermarket in the inner city of an Eastern European metropolis.