STEVE SAULSBURY: Learning to Dance for the 8th Grade Cotillion

Artistic, Submissions, Touching, , , , ,

That generation had skills. Dad could whittle, ink calligraphy. My uncle sang in Oklahoma.

I had a tarnished blade, lumbering larynx.

Refrigerator humming, Mom grasped at my skittish hands.

“Come on,” she said.

“I can’t.”

Until 10th grade, dark gym, my head buzzing, when the girl said, “You can so.”

Steve Saulsbury resides on Maryland’s Eastern Shore. His flash fiction has appeared in The Yard, Press 53, Loch Raven Review, South Florida Poetry Journal, and recently, Cosmorama. Steve works for the YMCA, also volunteering with Rock Steady Boxing for Parkinson’s.

VICTOR KREUITER: Something Like That

Amusing, Submissions, , ,

A boy became a monk, stayed silent for thirty-one years. Finally, he spoke: “Gentlemen, I’m leaving.”

His father greeted him on his return. It was Biblical. “What did you learn?” he asked.

“Well,” his son replied, “every mystery that was ever a mystery is still a mystery. Something like that.”

Victor Kreuiter lives, reads, and writes in the Midwest.

RYAN CRAIN: Coming Home

Artistic, Submissions, , , ,

The dirty and dusty roads of Latin America always lead me onto the shifting sands of time, into the swirling sea-foam and saltwater, and straight through a grandiose curling tube—a cathedral of stained glass wrapping itself warmly around me—as if to whisper in my ear, “You’re finally home.”

Ryan Crain wrote this story.

LESLEY BUNGAY: After-Work Drinks

Artistic, Submissions, , , ,

Clara listens to their laughter, forces her own. Sips her wine as they swig theirs. She gauges the right moment to make her excuse, feigns a yawn—it’s been a wild week, hasn’t it?

At home, alone, Clara lies in the dark, calms her breathing. Being absolutely fine is exhausting.

Lesley also has short fiction published online at 101 Words, Paragraph Planet, and Wensum Lit, as well as a number of competition anthologies. She grew up in the North East and now lives in Hampshire.

GARY THOMSON: A Pledge

Artistic, Submissions, , ,

The unicorn occasionally visits Sarah in her garden [under a shining moon]. Whispers: tell me of your dreams. Your fretful moments. Speak truly, so I might soften one burden.

Restore peace to my quarrelling parents? Sarah muses.

Straighten friend Abby’s deformed foot?

Sarah broods, under the stubborn weight of fairness.

Gary Thomson [hesitantly] believes in unicorns.

ROBIN ELLEN BROOKS: lovETorn

Adventure, Artistic, Submissions, , , , ,

Stars glimmered in the blackness. She gazed up, worrying her diamond ring. He was leaving her; she could tell.

“Forgive me,” he pleaded, his accent thick. “My people need a leader.”

“How could you?” she cried, heartbroken.

“Here they come now,” he exclaimed, pointing to a shooting star nearing Earth.

Robin Ellen Brooks enjoys constructing compelling stories for the screen, the stage, and the page.

PHYLLIS RITTNER: At the Gym

Amusing, Submissions, , , ,

Elbows square in plank position she watches the boy scout the room, then turn to his reflection. Carefully sliding his shirt upward they steal a peek at his obliques, pecs. When they lock eyes in the mirror he grins, flexes a bicep at her. Forgets she’s his high school librarian.

Phyllis Rittner’s flash can be found in Wrong Turn Lit, Burnt Breakfast, Roi Faineant Press, Versification, Friday Flash Fiction, Fairfield Scribes, Six Sentences and others. She is a member of the Charles River Writing Collective and can be reached on Facebook at facebook.com/phyllis.rittner.

MARK KUGLIN: Wayward Dog

Amusing, Submissions, , , ,

My dog took off. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t mind. But this time, he filched my wallet and has been running up a slew of credit card charges in several Las Vegas casinos.

If you see my dog, please call the police. At the rate he’s spending, I’ll be broke by Tuesday.

Mark is a published poet and writer. His poems and short stories can be found online and in several anthologies.

KEN GOSSE: Burnt Oftenings

Amusing, Poetry, Submissions, , , ,

The noble town crier
(and mayor’s paid liar
whom some admire
and also aspire)
extolled the empire
when lighting the fire
(a premature pyre—
the royals’ desire),
posting a flyer
confirming the friar,
for reasons quite dire
had feigned to conspire,
but caught in the mire,
was next to expire.

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.