Snow’s falling endlessly, midwinter trees shimmering with ice. The woodcutter struggles through sparkling drifts. Reaches the enchanted wall and swings his axe, glittering shards flying. Everyone says it’s indestructible, but he’s determined to find out what’s on the other side.
Grandma returns the leaky snow globe. Gets a full refund.
Deborah writes at an old desk surrounded by five hundred pet bugs.
He proposed, promising, “I want you for me, forever.” She floated up the aisle, deeply happy. He was her everything; she told him so with her vows. But when he placed the ring through her nose and led her back down the aisle, she realized she had misunderstood his meaning.
A writer and community educator, Amanda Le Rougetel blogs at fiveyearsawriter.blogspot.com and teaches through writingastool.ca. She writes CNF essays, 50-word stories, and 100-word micro-memoir. Find her published work through Chill Subs.
This fish doesn’t care how big he is
Or the size of the pond
He just wants to do splashy backflips
And scout about brightly colored reefs
In his comfort zone safe and sure
There’s still much to explore right there
Warning his buddies of the allure
Of fancy-dressed hooks
Kelsey Mathias wrote this story.
“Click only images of feathers. Let other images scroll by.” Days reviewing parading pictures motivated me to mischief: I welcomed flowers, fish, and knives to pollute the data set. If our human minds must suffer uncertainty, confusion, and (like me) early onset dementia, artificial intelligence should suffer from them, too.
Scott Burnam’s ongoing creative acts include composing poetry, writing microfiction, and taking Instax photos. He spends some of his free time as a submissions reader for Bodega Magazine and stewards Little Free Libraries with his wife and youngest son in Phoenix, AZ.
On a midnight drive, we passed by the hand-painted sign, standing on the lot where the old Lutheran church used to be. You asked me about my faith and I found I could give you no sufficient answer. “Tell me,” you pried, “do you imagine His hands nail-scarred, or shaking?”
Karlie Taylor is a writer and a high school English teacher. Her work is published on various online platforms.
The story of the week for December 11 to 15 is…
The Shape Shifter at 50 by Michelle Wilson
I love being ejected from coffee shops for staying past my welcome. So, I pour the brandy generously into my coffee from my flask. When I take a sip, I sigh, then open my laptop, calling myself a writer. The manager opens his flip phone and calls himself the police.
Brenda Lee Carlson is a writer from Minnesota. She has an MA in English and an MFA in Creative Writing. She’s devouring YA novels and collecting The Phantom of the Opera memorabilia when not building libraries for those in need.
Wind had whipped her red curls up into a frenzy. I watched with contained amusement as a gust lifted the full mane of hair into a thought bubble. Slender gloved hands flew out of coat pockets to tame it back down. As she passed I considered saying hello, but didn’t.
Charity lives in Denver, Colorado with a husband and a Siamese cat.
She awakened bleeding and sore
from where half the men
in the kingdom
had passed through Godmother’s
brambles, and then had pricked
her while she’d slept
until her prince came—
satisfied, dashing,
sword drawn—
but too late to do any good,
and gave Aurora
one more kiss
she didn’t want.
Kelly Dwyer’s third novel, GHOST MOTHER, will be published by Union Square & Co. In August 2024. Her flash fiction is often inspired by her imaginings of the Disney Princesses at middle age. Say hello at KellyDwyerAuthor.com.
Every December, our family’s dining table centerpiece was a bowl of nuts, emptied long before Christmas. From almonds to walnuts, we each claimed favorites. I devoured the pecans. On her deathbed, Mom whispered to me, “I always adored pecans.”
Roberta Beach Jacobson is the author of Demitasse Fiction: One-Minute Reads for Busy People (Alien Buddha Press, 2023).