And this picture on the end table, two people, but in this light they’re two long blue shadows. Cradle it; can you feel its weight? Now rifle your memory. For the texture of skin. Contours you travelled. Odd shapes you assumed. Notice when your palms pulse like a firefly. If.
Kim Murdock writes mostly flash fiction and micro fiction. Her work has appeared in Tiny Molecules, Hungry Ghost Magazine, Blink-Ink, Ellipsis Zine, 100 Word Story, and elsewhere. Follow her on Twitter at @herselfKim.
Nameless I came into the world, and nameless I remain. Language affords no more than the barest guess of what I am.
The prickle on your skin when you’re alone. The whisper in your ear. The shadow cast off-kilter, moving on its own.
I am watching.
Better mind your manners.
Casey Laine comes from a long line of talkative women. She parlays this abundance of words into many writings: journals, poetry, and of course several novels in progress. In her spare time, she chases butterflies with her camera and walks her giant dog.
The story of the week for August 29 to September 2 is…
Redundant by Zoe Zammit
Making the bed alone, the sheets won’t stay in place. Besides, the double mattress we’d talked about replacing with a king feels empty. I sleep on the couch.
Around midnight, I hear the front door open. She still has her key. But there isn’t room on the couch for two.
Shai Afsai lives in Providence, Rhode Island. Enough said.
With steady hand and infinite care, the watchmaker positioned the final pieces, gently wound the stem, smiling with satisfaction as the intricate mechanism came to life — springs and wheels meshing with precision. Slowly removing the loupe from his eye he sighed, wishing his broken heart could be mended so easily.
Nick Young is a retired award-winning CBS News Correspondent. In addition to 50-Word Stories, writing has appeared in more than twenty publications including the Pennsylvania Literary Journal, Bookends Review, the Nonconformist Magazine, Backchannels Review, Sandpiper, the San Antonio Review, Flyover Magazine, Pigeon Review, The Best of CaféLit 11 and Vols. I and II of the Writer Shed Stories anthologies. He lives outside Chicago.
Nightfall. Darkness permeates. The stars embellish the night sky. The moon walks on its podium in a full glow.
We hear the sounds of the night creatures as we take our journey to a homeland.
We seek a serene place. We’ve waded through chaotic waters. We’ve walked through sombre days.
Thompson is a writer of diverse colours although he’s still trying to get his foot in some. His short stories can be seen in voice.club. He lives in Lagos, Nigeria.
She clutched her bag tightly as she wandered the night market. No fake branded goods or childhood snacks here; instead, stalls advertised broken dreams and childhood fears on sale.
Reaching the stall she was looking for, she held out her bag and asked “How much for one badly broken heart?”
AJ Joseph tweets very short stories as @sonobeus.
When the company went bankrupt, Grandpa bought one of the huge office photocopiers, going cheap. Grandma was furious. It sat in their garage, plugged in, making the occasional sound and waiting for something useful to do. Grandpa made copies of our drawings. Maybe he just wanted to feel useful, too.
Zoe Zammit is a lawyer, amateur historian, dog-lover and writer living in Melbourne, Australia.
It’s an impossible place to be happy. She shouldn’t have stayed, but the air outside is desolate, the subway packed.
She tilts back the glass of gin-and-tonic he poured her, rolls an ice cube around her tongue, then bites down on it, the crunch crushing the sound of his voice.
Melissa Williams is a writer and autopathography researcher who seeks enlightenment from within large cups of dark coffee and the odd G&T. You can find her here: melissajowilliams.wordpress.com
“Do one thing a day that scares you,” said Eleanor Roosevelt.
So I went without makeup, in a sleeveless top and shorts (sans my Spanx).
With gray roots and more than laugh wrinkles showing my age, I performed my daily errands.
The freedom I felt overcame the stares I imagined.
Ruth Mannino is at the stage of life where insecurity battles with reality buoyed by a sense of humor.