When an epidemic or a war or a climate catastrophe or a large enough meteorite dispatches all of us, we’ll eventually be washed into the oceans. Dolphins and whales will gather to examine.
Highly intelligent animals, they will quickly conclude: Debris from dry land. Better steer clear. Could be toxic.
John Szamosi lives in the Pocono Mountains. He has published several short stories, essays and poems in print and online magazines.
The story of the week for August 28 to September 1 is…
The Most Wonderful Thing in the World by Susan Gale Wickes
Minutes after the super blue moon rises above the temple of Poseidon, an aircraft passes across our view. The private jetliner is too far away to hear and looks like a night bird gliding beneath a floodlight. I’m jealous of the people onboard, those lucky fearless fools deliberately tempting fate.
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.
Perhaps the flowers wither and the stars fall, and tides rise as fauna die. But no longer will we feel the clashing whims of our hearts, the timeless troubles thundering our souls.
Perhaps when we reach the heavens, half burnt, flames dancing across the sky, our worlds will lie still.
Emma Peng is a recent high school graduate who enjoys exploring new worlds through writing fantastical stories and her wildlife blog.
“The trees send me love letters on peach skins,” Granny said. “In their world language is taste. You read with your tongue.” She placed a peach in my hands, then disappeared into her orchard.
I licked peach juice from my fingers. Granny’s last words tickled my tongue: “Remember to compost.”
Mary Alice Dixon has taught architectural and landscape history, is a Pushcart nominee, Best Short Fiction nominee, and award winning poet. She lives in North Carolina where she gardens with cow manure, talks to tree, and communes with the ghosts of her dead cats, Alice B. Toklas and Thomas Merton.
A weathered dog sniffs a discarded cigarette, now only a filter. His stomach probably growls like mine. If I had any, I’d share my food with him.
Overhead, a plane roars. Its metal glare temporarily blinds me from reality. For a few hopeful seconds, I imagine I’m flying away, too.
Natalie Nee is a bibliophile, graduate of Colorado State University, former ghostwriter, and latte enthusiast. Her debut novel, a domestic thriller, is currently out on submission. Natalie’s short story, “Saudade”, was published by the webzine, Across the Margin. Her other poems have been published by Roi Fainéant Press, Half and One, and other literary magazines. She’s cooler on Twitter (@NovelNatalie).
It wasn’t the most wonderful thing in the world.
Just a soft, lush spot of cool, green grass at the bottom of a downspout.
I’d barely noticed.
Then, a barefoot three-year-old giggled with delight at the feel of those cool blades of grass.
And to think I almost missed it.
Susan Gale Wickes is a writer from Indiana. She enjoys writing short stories and the fun of cartoon captioning.
Nighttime’s nice.
Quietly enjoying a walk, talking helping her to heal. Conversation’s a little one-sided, but that’s to be expected: it’s hard to find a good listener.
Strange, her voice, aloud, amongst the forest’s sounds.
She tightens his gag, forces the gun into his back.
Whispers in his ear.
“RUN!”
Steven Holding lives is the United Kingdom. His story PULLING NIGHTS can be found in the latest issue of STYGIAN LEPUS. You can follow his work at www.stevenholding.co.uk.
The dark isn’t always scary, or so the voice tells me. You might even come to like the simpleness of it. There’s the unknown to embrace. Not cold, it says, not alone.
I nod, not sure the voice will understand.
Am I dead?
No.
My eyes?
Gone, the doctor whispers.
Jane R. Miles lives in the Netherlands, but will always call Australia home.
The story of the week for August 21 to 25 is…
Imprints by David Lowis