The story of the week for May 2 to 6 is…
Trading Places by Stephen Tilden
The story of the week for May 2 to 6 is…
Trading Places by Stephen Tilden
The story was so immersive she sat on the floor of the mobile library to read.
Unaware, it drove to the next location.
By the time it returned to her street the following week she had finished the whole of the fiction section. Who needs food when you have books?
Rosie Douglas has been writing all her life, just for fun. She was born in the East End of London and although she says she hates London, she keeps getting drawn back there time after time.
Eight pounds of fur and bone weigh on my lap, shifting gently with each breath.
Yesterday, it was nine. Last week, ten. A year ago, twelve.
The weight used to purr but now it labors.
Tomorrow, eight pounds of fur and bone will weigh on my lap, still and peaceful.
Danielle Cohen is the CTO of Ompractice, an online yoga and meditation company. When she’s not petitioning her boss to rename the company Ompurractice, she’s writing stories or cuddling with her cats. Her most notable piece of writing is an Amazon review for cat laxative. She wrote this piece for Freddie Pants, who was a very good boy right until the end.
A no-breakup breakup is the worst possible kind of hurt.
Someone cut me out of their world.
No words were exchanged, spoken, or heard.
Only silence.
Did I slice too deep into your invisible wounds?
I didn’t know.
Or did I not meet expectations?
Well, you didn’t meet mine either.
Pauline Chow writes speculative fiction to explore history and systems with disgruntled people. She is an attorney and works in tech. In upstate New York with her husband, toddler, and rescue pup, she is living her best life in the woods. Find her at paulinechowstories.com and @itspaulinechow on Twitter.
Camped at the bar, we dissect newcomers.
Lazy. Predators. Invaders. Driving values up for profit.
They smile. Ask about good beers. Fishing spots.
But they look and sound neat.
We invite them over. Contrition tugs. Someone brings up prices. Construction. We reload rumors. Their smiles evaporate, quick and very real.
Yash Seyedbagheri is a graduate of Colorado State University’s MFA fiction program. His stories, “Soon,” “How To Be A Good Episcopalian,” “Tales From A Communion Line,” and “Community Time,” have been nominated for Pushcarts. Yash’s work has been published in SmokeLong Quarterly, The Journal of Compressed Creative Arts, Write City Magazine, and Ariel Chart, among others.
Teaching my kid to unicycle thrills us both like those first wobbly ventures on her bike. We practice until the summer sun sets orange and pink behind cottonwoods. We push the unicycle home.
Inside, Husband lies on the couch, a cloud of cold mist with a mouth: “I met someone.”
Karen Hausdoerffer teaches at Western Colorado University and the Center for Adult and Family Education. She has published in journals including Flyway, North American Review and Shenandoah.
I remember the smells of summer: freshly mowed lawns, sunscreen. And the sound of birds that returned in the spring. Winter snowscapes were visually stunning, but fall was my favorite. It was a feeling, like a cool breeze on a humid afternoon.
All replaced by a fifth season: nuclear winter.
Find more post-apocalyptic prose and poetry by this seasoned writer at pontiuspaiva.com.
When daytime temperatures rise above freezing, it’s time to tap the maples. The sap rises, murmuring, We can begin again. That’s the promise of spring. Knowing the endlessness of loss, she asks the trees each year, But how many springs are left to me? This is how Aprils get squandered.
N. West Moss is the author of the memoir Flesh & Blood (Algonquin 2021) as well as the short story collection The Subway Stops at Bryant Park. Her middle grade novel, Birdy, is forthcoming from Little, Brown. She can be found on Twitter at @scoutandhuck and on Instagram at @NWestMoss.
Yet again, his new home wasn’t as advertised: the “light coastal breeze” setting was more like prone to gale-force storms, his neighbours noisier than ideal for his hermit lifestyle. Meanwhile, the outside was badly weatherworn, the inside tide-marked and cramped even for a crab. It was time to move on!
Sarah Leavesley is a fiction writer, poet, journalist and photographer, who loves exploring shadows and light. See more at sarah-james.so.uk.
We were having breakfast together—I at my table and he at the feeder outside of the window.
For a long moment we gazed enviously at each other. I said, “Would that I could fly in the air,” to which he replied, “Would that I could sit in a chair.”
Stephen Tilden is retired and actually quite happy while sitting.