Heard the round chamber behind me; knew it was coming long before that.
Thought I’d see my life flash like a grainy home movie, chronicling mistakes I’d made, with a few yellow-tinged birthdays for good measure.
But wouldn’t you know? Only thing that ever came to mind was her face.
E.O. plans to avoid a career in organized crime, but admits that mafioso make pretty decent bad guys in movies.
Visitors examined the crumbling stadium, considering the destroyed rows of seating. So many! They wondered… Had there once been enough Earthlings to fill them?
No, they determined. It had been built to deceive, to convince visitors Earth was dangerous.
Earth had been left alone as long as the stadium stood.
Connie Taylor left California to become a commercial fisherman in Alaska. She fished salmon, crab and shrimp for twenty years before settling in Cordova to become a printer and art gallery owner. Now she’s a publisher, photographer, and author. See more at fathompublishing.com.
I wash my hands outside the neonatal intensive care unit. The soap kills ninety nine point nine percent of bacteria, but what about the rest?
On the third wash my engagement ring clatters on the stainless steel. I watch it spiral down the drain, too exhausted to lunge for it.
Polly is a Content Strategist living in London with her partner and baby.
She studies her reflection like words on a page. Facial contours are bones structuring her story. Cosmetic tricks are literary devices that detract from flaws.
Realizing she is the creation, not the artist, she removes the embellishments. Her truth laid bare—every line, scar, and tear—she stands more beautiful.
Christa Planko, MA, is a professional writer with a passion for creative expression. She has had her poetry and short stories featured in several publications, including River Poets Journal, Tanka and Haiku Journal, Poetry Quarterly, and Every Day Fiction. Her story, “The Olde-Tyme Village,” won the 2021 WordCrafter Short Fiction Contest. Christa resides in South Jersey with her feline muses.
The story of the week for September 18 to 22 is…
Is This Your First? by Emily Patino
We, the poets, musicians, and painters, are facing our 60th birthdays. Uh oh. We’ve enjoyed creative lives chasing our dreams. We didn’t desire the security of those friends with steady jobs. As we inch toward our quirky retirement years, immeasurable joy is found by continuing to write, sing, and sketch.
Roberta Beach Jacobson is the Fleakeeper at Five Fleas Itchy Poetry.
He held up the tree branches for her as she followed him along the creek.
As they reached the cave, and the sight of her startled everyone inside, she flinched at the whisper of a once-loved scent.
“The government doesn’t know it.” He smirked at her. “But we’ve got books!”
Chelsea Allen wrote this story.
“Harvey and I have an agreement. He runs the snowblower and the like. I deal with chores involving household appliances. I just cleaned all the carpets.”
“So you’re finished for the day, and we can go shopping?”
“Not quite. Harvey installed artificial turf. Now, I have to vacuum the lawn.”
John H. Dromey’s had short fiction published in over 200 venues.
The newborn is content to nuzzle where it’s warm listening to his mother’s heartbeat, a familiar sound from her womb. He hasn’t opened his eyes yet, and is still coming to terms with the oxygen rush that first hit his lungs.
He was sentenced to life. Day one starts now.
Ruth Mannino is guilty of sentencing four to life, and all are enjoying their terms and conditions.
I find more comfort in complete strangers,
Than in good friends.
I’ve always been enchanted by minding my own business.
Them, minding theirs.
I enjoy the concept of territory.
Of personal space, well-kept.
Let’s draw a red line in chalk, straight down the middle,
And vow to never cross it.
Alma Ariaz is a young writer from Ontario, Canada. She wrote her first novel at sixteen, and has since been published in various literary journals. Her work is mostly fiction based in reality, as she seeks to capture her thoughts in little glass jars and force them onto the page.