“Mr. Dawson, I’m sorry for your loss.” One of the cops speak but I barely see his face. Red and blue lights flicker as a yellow convertible laments in flames circled by dismayed faces. Yet, I keep calling. The sun sets in tears as I wait for her to answer.
Abhijith is a university graduate from southern India who likes writing micro fictions and musings. A steaming cup of latte and sunset walks is all he need to free fall into thoughts, connecting words that express emotions.
You worked at dot-to-dots in the hospital while I went to school.
“There are never enough dots,” you raged.
Last night, I looked at the sky and thought: You will never run out again. Then I taped an extra star to my window, just in case you do.
Joanna Norland is a Canadian playwright and writing coach based in East Sussex, UK. She is the author of “Lizzy, Darcy and Jane,” and “Mothers Have Nine Lives,” and writes about the intersection of writing and parenthood on www.mumswrite.com.
The story of the week for April 21 to 26 is…
My neighbor is the second coming of Jesus Christ by Nina Evans
Uprooted this odd plant, we did. Brought it back to the lab.
It was novel, real wild. Thought it was a newly discovered species.
Never seen anything like it, we said.
We’ve been searching for another after ours died so quick, looking real hard.
Gone from the wild, it was.
Nick Bucciarelli is an undergraduate student studying chemistry at Northwestern University.
He set up their anniversary dinner and she thought someone had died. The candles decorating the room came from the dollar store, in the aisle with the stationary cards. Red, for romance. He did not know that in this country, red candles are for mourning. A different kind of love.
Kim is an emerging writer based in Montreal, Canada. Her previous work has been published in McGill’s student journal Samizdat, as well as the online magazine RedRoseThorns.
Sally works the late shift at the counter, and more. She makes coffee, mops floors, stocks shelves and greets everyone warmly, even drunks that wander in at 2:00 a.m. Sally wears her name tag proudly and never complains.
What does she do between shifts? No one asks. No one cares.
Peter Blau believes everyone has a story to tell and in his teaching he invites students to tell those stories with their writing. His work has been featured in 50-Words as well as Academy of the Heart and Mind, Paragraph Plant, and Five-Minute Lit. Peter sees writing as more than just a means to an end, but It is the end in itself.
In my dreams, I could fly. A little boy, ignoring the science of gravity.
Somewhere along the way, those dreams disappear.
“Another beer?” My wife scolds.
“Hard day at work,” I reply.
She huffs and goes to bed without me, as usual. I drink more beer.
She doesn’t understand flying.
Del Griffith is a retired math teacher who reads and writes extensively and travels the state, looking for great barbecue and swapping tall tales with all the old men.
It took me a while to believe it when he told me. Eventually I made him walk on water to prove it—took the train to Coney Island and got pretzels on the boardwalk. We talked about our dads for a bit. I thought I’d have more to ask him.
Nina Evans is a humble genius with a heart of gold. Besides Bruce Springsteen and Whitney Houston on a technicality, she is New Jersey’s finest export. Currently studying Literature and Music at the New School, Nina expects to work in a wholly unrelated field, probably sending emails.
The day begins the same: a cup of coffee on the swing, watching the old willow tree sway in the wind, branches whipping the ground like forty lashes gnawing away at the life she’s lived. Eleanor glances reflexively at the empty spot next to her. The mornings were always nice.
Emily is a new mom, a wife, a cat mom, an editor, a writer, and a singer—words and labels that don’t matter much to anyone, but to her, they are the portrait of a full and growing life. She hopes to expand that life with more words each day.
A man on the bus tells me I’m pretty. Two weeks later, a note. He’s sorry about the comment. His wife is an alcoholic, his daughter is dead, I look just like her. I don’t see him again for the rest of sixth grade, but I do see his daughter.
Nicky DeMarie is a writer and musician based out of New York City. She is currently a student at The New School, and working towards her first novel.