Grandma says she’s going to die. We both know she’s too strong to die soon. She laughs when I tell her that. She doesn’t know I’m sucking out her knowledge for when life gets bad. I wish she could know all her pain was worth it. At least for me.
Gabriel Crommie is a young writer and filmmaker living in Brooklyn NY.
He paces on the cliff edge, wearing Dave’s leathers, not wanting to look over but feeling the need to. He touches the lemon candy that’s been stuck inside the pocket for eighteen months. He can always conjure the smells of motorbikes and citrus, but no longer the smell of Dave.
Scunthorpe-born Rob Walton lives in Whitley Bay, England. Short fiction and poetry for adults and children appears in various places. Micro-fiction in Blue Fifth Review, Gravel and 101 words in the USA, Flash Frontier (New Zealand), and various UK publications. This Poem Here (Arachne Press). Follow him on Twitter and Instagram.
At home her fully grown children caused constant stress. Here in her hospital bed she could rest. Though sore and afraid, she appreciated the nursing care, the nearest in years she’d felt to a caress. Her tears were as much about the life she’d led as it being under threat.
Joanne Bowers lives in England and likes reading and writing microfiction.
Intentions die at the altar of consequence; a girl has to eat.
The effects of her voice hadn’t bothered her until she saw someone so sweet that, for the first time, she didn’t want her song to draw them in. She wanted them to carry it far from the shore.
Erin Appenzeller is a queer writer from New York, a graduate from The New School with a BA in Literary Studies, and a holder of many cats.
The story of the week for March 6 to 10 is…
The Waiting Room by Jacqui Townsend
I’d looked forward to catching up with my best and oldest friend at our longtime hangout. I’d imagined us jabbering over our favorites: margaritas without salt and piles of corn chips with cheese. But she brought along her new best friend. They drank lite beer. And I had nothing to say.
Liz writes from Long Island, NY. Find her at LizMayers.com.
From behind the window of his bedroom
on the second floor,
he
watches the other children play basketball in the street.
He
must admit, it looks more fun than sock puppets and rock collections.
But from the closet She whispers:
“It’s safer here inside. Warmer here.”
So here
he
stays.
Jason Nimako is a filmmaker working out of Chicago. He sometimes writes late at night when he can’t sleep.
She sat in the shower, 60 bpm sustaining the rhythm of the water against her skin and the melody whispering from her phone. She watched time and thoughts and water and dirt and blood vortex down the drain. In the end, they all became one and were gone.
Steady, steady.
Katelyn Simpson lives with her family in Cincinnati, Ohio. She has worked in many fields, from theater technical directing to expediter advertising. She enjoys reading, writing, crafting, traveling, and food.
You wait for me in the past, surrounded by machines keeping you alive.
I can only jump back a day, but it will suffice.
A memory of you smiling, head raised against gathering storm clouds, pierces my gloom.
Hugging you, I make a vow. I shall never witness your tomorrow.
Paul lives in Scotland with his wife and a small, but demanding cat. His flash fiction can be found at 101words.org and fridayflashfiction.com.
I climbed so high
I couldn’t see
I sank so low
I couldn’t breathe
But now you
The stars aligned
Your Hand stretched out
I began to shine
You
You rolled the carpet out
You
You Set the stage
You
You named the tune
The tune
This old heart plays
Patrick Yu says life can be full of surprises.