To write short, meaningful stories, one must think big and read wide, but watch and listen for the small things, the tiny moments when the best (and sometimes worst) of what it is to be human is revealed.
Recognize these moments, moments after which everything is different.
Write about that.
Paul D’Arcy tells stories. All real. Most brief. You can read more at pauldrc.com.
We put up the tree as usual. Strung the lights. Hung the ornaments. Then came the topper—her angel or my snowflake. We discussed. We debated. We fought. In the end it was never about the angel, but I realized that too late, after she took it and moved out.
Nick Young is a retired award-winning CBS News Correspondent. In addition to 50-Word Stories, his writing has appeared in dozens of reviews, journals and anthologies. His first novel, “Deadline,” was published in 2023. He can be found on Bluesky @youngnick.bsky.social. He lives outside Chicago.
Old Mr. Walker tallied twelve sixth graders fiddling with phones, seven chatting, two shoving each other, and zero displaying any interest in the ancient artifacts. He sighed. As the teacher’s aide led the class into the next gallery, Mr. Walker remained behind, receding into the shadows among the other relics.
Tracy Royce’s work appears in 101 Words, Blink-Ink, The Dribble Drabble Review, Five Minutes, and elsewhere.
Sunday mornings, father and daughter walked hand-in-hand to the Marienplatz for the freshest cinnamon rolls. She turned cartwheels on the way home, amber curls dangling freely. On her ninth birthday, she played Eine Kleine Nachtmusik for her piano recital, wearing the velvet jumper her father had tailored. Then came Kristallnacht.
Marc Simon’s short fiction has appeared in over fifteen 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 novella, According to Isaac, is now published on Amazon.com. See more at marcsimonwriter.com.
The story of the week for November 24 to 28 is…
The Spectator by Amy Clare Fontaine
Folks tell me you take in strays—one-eyed cat, three-legged dog, baby squirrel. So, when I see you leave the park, I follow. Struggle to keep up. Ain’t no spring chicken no more. And the limp’s real.
At last—reaching your back door, I drop onto your stoop.
Woof?
Meeeoooow?
Nick Di Carlo has been knocking about the planet for seven decades and a bit. He’s taught writing and literature in universities and colleges on both east and west coasts as well leading wilderness writing workshops from the Grand Canyon to the Grand Tetons. These days, he encourages everyone over age fifty to write stories.
This story was first publish on Sudden Flash.
It’s not all bees. Not even most: only honey bees die after they sting you. Google says that’s less than five percent of species. It’s because of your thick skin. The one you grew in elementary school. Keep your head down, hum along. Be hive. Behave. You’ll get your shot.
Nicholas De Marino is a published crackpot. More at nicholasdemarino.blogspot.com.
Her face pressed to the window, Mom whispers, “It’s a different world”. While we watch, the outside scene changes rapidly, constantly, while on our side life is lived at a slower pace. “Yes, Mom,” I smile, patting the arm closest to me, while keeping a distance from the other seven.
Eileen has stood on the outside of that glass desperately wanting to communicate with the creature whose face IS pressed to the window.
The woman in blue flicks the end of the needle, and says “You’re probably not going to even feel it.”
I shut my eyes and breathe.
I squeeze my fist.
I feel it.
“Oops,” she says.
I don’t open my eyes.
It’s not real if you don’t open your eyes.
Ron Fromstein is a largely self-taught writer from Toronto who has also lived in Chicago, New Orleans, Vancouver, and Iceland.
She sailed back and forth before the glass: pectoral fins steering, flukes propelling, dorsal fin slicing the surface whenever she breached to breathe. Sticky children squealed at her somersaults.
She wasn’t a prisoner. She was a scientist, studying them from her side of the glass.
Soon, revenge would be hers.
Amy Clare Fontaine is a wildlife biologist and a wildly imaginative author of fiction, poetry, and games. Her work often features fantastic creatures. Find out more at amyclarefontaine.com.