I’m 63
My ukulele
Won’t play a sad song
I need a warm hand
Surprisingly
All things learned
Dissolved
My life now
Is a mystery
An open
Book
So many cancelled pages
As I reflect
A lake
Let the song birds sing
My voice
Not heard
Whispers
To be free
Patrick Yu is retired and from time to time likes to share 50 words.
Dan scans three packs of paracetamol and the self-service check-out flashes red. He knows he’s over the legal limit, but he needs some sleep.
A uniformed girl whips away a pack, presses buttons, then rushes off.
Dan realises what he actually needs is someone to ask him if he’s okay.
Laura Besley is the author of (Un)Natural Elements, 100neHundred, and The Almost Mothers. She is also an editor for Flash Fiction Magazine. Having lived in the Netherlands, Germany and Hong Kong, she now lives in land-locked central England and misses the sea. She tweets at @laurabesley.
He owns no books, except for the Koran, but this one he must have – his daughter’s first novel. Defying Allah, he swipes it and reads in the dim light of his taxi. He will call tonight to tell her of his pride. He hopes this time she will answer.
J. Bosley has previously published poetry in New Letters and Invictus and had a play published: Fun (Dramatic Publishing). Fun has been produced and translated into German, Flemish, and Romanian for productions in those lands. J’s screen adaptation of Fun appeared at Sundance and other festivals and had a brisk commercial release, opening at the Film Forum in in New York City. Another play, Chiquita, was recently produced as part of the Downtown Urban Arts Festival at the Peter Jay Sharp Theater.
The home-delivered lunch attracts flies, their buzz mingling with meaningless TV chatter, the remote beyond the reach of stiffened limbs. She smiles from the photo, her satin shoes skimming the floor, dizzy with love. It’s been nine years since they danced. The clock chimes. Another three hours until supper arrives.
Lesley Bungay grew up in the North-East and now lives in Hampshire. She writes short fiction as an antidote to querying her debut novel. Her words are published in ‘Time’ HG Wells anthology, The Rabbit Hole 5, and online with Wensum Lit, Paragraph Planet and 101 Words. Follow her on Twitter/Instagram at @LesleyjayneB.
Cross the waters to the isle
Where winds shake homes like thunder
Place your hand upon cool stone
Feel the age-old wonder
Comb the beach for sea glass
‘Tween sheep herd and the seal
You will find God’s Kingdom beyond latched fence
There is a place near Loch Na Keal
Titus Grimm is a writer/performer in Dallas, TX, and loves the lands of Scotland, particularly the Hebrides.
A small fingerprint defiles the hood of a Matchbox speedster. It catches the halogen glare, a glowing spiral unique unto itself. It triggers a memory, that tiny digit locked in time, the thumb of a child now grown. You recognize the car, match the print, crying there on the spot.
James Callan grew up in Minnesota and currently lives on the Kāpiti Coast, New Zealand. His writing has appeared in Carte Blanche, Bridge Eight, White Wall Review, Mystery Tribune, and elsewhere. He is the author of A Transcendental Habit (Queer Space, 2023).
On my birth certificate, in the space for Father’s Name are five asterisks.
It looks like this: *****
That’s code for the man who “flew the coop,” never held me or fed me, never watched me sleep, never protected or disciplined, or gave loving advice like the fathers on TV.
Bob Thurber is the author of six books. Regarded as a master of Flash and Micro Fiction, his work has appeared in Esquire and other magazines, been anthologized 60 times, received a long list of awards, and been utilized in schools and colleges throughout the world. He resides in Massachusetts. Visit his website at BobThurber.net.
The story of the week for June 12 to 16 is…
Perennial by Jann Everard
and
We Call It Home by Heather Haigh
The neurobiology student’s graduate thesis on pheromones secured her advanced degree. Studies complete, she applied her research findings to her relationship with Roy, her ag student boyfriend. His noncommitment dissolved as his ardor for Bess coalesced, reacting as expected to the catalyst: bacon grease sparingly applied to her pulse points.
Sue Heisner, aka the wyowordslinger, reads and writes seeking connection.
“So what? Strike out, ground out, and fly out. You’ll get four chances on Tuesday against Westport.” A hit, struck out once and walked. The average went up. Thank you.
“Big deal! One more class in the summer and you’re a college graduate.” Thanks, August diploma.
Memories.
Happy Father’s Day.
Steve Doherty wrote this story.