Two ducks float along the river, quacking amicably like a bickering couple on their golden anniversary. Above them, blue skies. Below them, stones that shimmer in the sunlight. They come to a stop over two submerged bicycles, facing each other, rusting. The ducks bicker, then go bottoms up to eat.
S. Juul lives in Kyoto, Japan, and treasures teatime by the Kamogawa River when not teaching.
A pale grove sprouted in darkness, surrounding Marta’s bed, blocking the door. Each wore a painted smile, sly eyes molded in plaster.
Go back to sleep, Mom groaned, it’s just a nightmare. Brother hissed, Anything for attention. Deep in that grove, little Marta heard a raspy whisper: We’re waiting for you.
Hillary founded and for 20 years acted as senior editor for the independent poetry publisher, Subsynchronous Press. Her short stories, drabbles, and poems have appeared in numerous print and online publications. Hillary also creates illustrations for horror/sci-fi, and pulp fiction sites. See more at hillarylyon.wordpress.com.
Some say violent shows are curative. I favor the car wash.
Inhuman noises begin. A monster brush advances across the hood with threats of demolition, and murder. Mechanicals encircle. Water pounds an attack on the roof. My heart pounds, too. My breathing stops.
As I drive away, I am content.
Joyce became interested in writing while a college freshman, when a story about childhood drew praise from her English instructor. However, after earning a B.A. Degree in English Literature, she put the interest aside, which lasted most of her life. Now retired, she enjoys writing about memorable episodes and the remarkable people who create the world of her family and their winery.
She was tired of the worry, the sentimentality and guilt. She’d always doted on them, extolling their virtues, overlooking flaws. But her treasured memories weren’t reciprocated in their lifeless eyes and silent indifference. Still, letting go filled her with paralyzing ambivalence—until she heard the auctioneer’s appraisal and said, “Sell!”
Kathy Lynn Carroll is a freelance writer living in Connecticut, where she is also a part time library assistant. Her fiction and journalism has appeared in a variety of publications over the years. Most recently her work has appeared in The First Line.
“This’ll do,” Seamus said. He stabbed the box.
Ashes tumbled. Wind began to whip and spin. The ashes ignored the stone-stubbled meadow. They clutched at Seamus’s clothes, his face. He was a squall of grey.
“You starin’ at!” Seamus spat.
I could hear the Old Man laughin’. “Nothin’,” I said.
James Hugh Comey has written a mystical novella (DEATH OF THE POET KING, Branden Press), a magical realism novel (UNCOMMON GLORY), and a post-apocalyptic novel, THE WILD WORLD. He’s a co-founder and the Writer-in-Residence of Stages of Imagination, a nationally recognized, nonprofit entertainment and learning organization. His plays have been seen by over 100,000 children.
The night before I was supposed to die my brother arrived in my hospital room. I hadn’t seen him for forty years. I pushed the button on my morphine pump. We talked about riding rollercoasters as boys until I fell asleep. In the morning his hand was resting on mine.
Marc Simon’s short fiction has appeared in over 15 literary magazines. Five of his one-act plays have been winners in new works contests. His debut novel, The Leap Year Boy, was published in December 2012. His second novel, The Hanged Man, can be accessed in serial form via Kindle Vella. His newest novel, The Confession, is under contract. See more at marcsimonwriter.com.
The story of the week for May 23 to 27 is…
Blue by Alison Bernasconi
Always the sun coming out
tomorrow.
Always the better days
ahead.
So her heart keeps waiting for roses,
her hands never open the book in her lap,
her gaze leaps past
____this
________rain,
how it lifts the scent of green,
how my father leans close,
wipes droplets from her cheeks.
Jennifer L. Freed mostly writes poems. Her new book, When Light Shifts, based on the aftermath of her mother surviving a stroke, is available at Kelsay Books, Amazon, or at her website, jfreed.weebly.com, and includes some poems published at 50-Word Stories.
My eyes still ache. My eyes are the ocean. Pale water swirls in my irises. It’s what I miss, what I crave.
Church at 7:00 AM. Sticky petticoats, stifling dresses, sickly sweet incense.
Home for toast and tea. Then all seven in the wagon. To merge with the silken sea.
Alison Bernasconi is a full-time educator, part-time swimmer, and occasional reader.
She shows off the rock to approving “oohs.” Like an excellent maid of honor, I’ve memorized its colour, cut, and carat.
“Thanks for the bachelorette!” She hugs me, making my heart flutter.
Thump Thump Thump
Her heart beats in rhythm with mine, while her ring stabs me in the back.
Anushka Kulkarni is a teenager from India studying biology. She writes flash fiction as a creative outlet.