You told me I should learn the difference
Between mirrors and portals
Like it was a secret you knew
Like it was something you could teach me
Somewhere
In all the blue-light dreams on infinite scroll
And the free-fall-belly-flop summer picture days
I forgot
To ask which one you were
T.C. Sundberg is a writer and poet living in New York. Her hobbies include graduate school and long walks with her dog. She aspires to be “someone” someday.
Every evening little Emma’s outstretched arms beckon Daddy to dance.
Her bright smile and sweet hums linger softly as she twirls and sways.
Double-handed kisses flutter silently through the air as she whispers, “Love you, Daddy.”
Mother smiles and wonders if Emma really sees him or if she just remembers.
Carrie Backer enjoys writing as a hobby and has had the honor of being published at 50WS a few times.
Fairytales taught her to dream big.
If only she’d bottled her bravery from back when she’d slayed her own dragons; when she was queen of the castle.
Somehow she’s imbibed other stories: messages, quips, and pictures which taught her to feel worthless.
That’s how she fell for the dirty rascal.
Emma McEvoy is a teacher, book blogger and podcaster who loves writing flash fiction. Her pieces have appeared in EllipsisZine, Sundial Magazine, FiveMinuteLit and National Flash Flood, among others. After growing up in Ireland and living in France and Japan, she is now based in the north of England where she lives with her husband, two teenage children and naughty beagle. On Twitter, she’s @corkyorky
She has never attached fondness to furniture or fixtures. Her family was poor, but not in knick-knacks. On gray days she takes pleasure in purging her place of its needless things.
Still, she clothes the bruised table from her grandmother’s kitchen, unwilling to nurse the coffees of her twilight elsewhere.
Joree is accumulating experience. Follow her on Twitter at @joreenovotny.
My grandmother twirls the tiny stem of a yellow blossom. “This is woodsorrel,” she says.
I nod, studying the petals. “What’s it used for?”
She barks a laugh and the crow’s feet around her eyes multiply. “Why would it need a use? Is it not enough to just be alive?”
Jenna Manley is a poet, author, and artist who lives with her fiancé, a mischievous cat, and a very handsome dachshund mix. She has been published in the Cold Moon Journal and Tiny Wren Lit. You can follow her work on Twitter at @jenna_e_manley.
A witness saw her walk across the field, jump rope in hand. Shimmied up the old cherry tree. Looked like she was playing.
I stand beneath it, eyes shut, feeling the wind on my skin. A blossom grazes the top of my head, like a toe swinging back and forth.
Tim Boiteau lives in Michigan, is the author of the dark fantasy novel The Drummer Girl, and a Writers of the Future winner. See more at timboiteau.com.
I can no longer hide from the world beneath my duvet. I’m not alone.
A bundle of joy noses his way through my cocoon. I have to go outside daily, where strangers smile at me.
I finally understand the phrase that when you rescue a dog, it also rescues you.
Yvonne has featured in a range of publications, from Your Cat and Northern Life Magazine to Siren’s Call and Schlock. Her flash fiction has appeared on Horror Tree, The Daily Drabble, 101 words and Paragraph Planet. Her debut book was released by Demain. She resides in Yorkshire with her partner and a cat who does not respect personal space.
Marty dropped dead at home, alone, on Monday morning. Tributes appeared continuously until Tuesday night, when Pat posted, “His goodness notwithstanding, I’ll mostly remember his pinging wit.”
Soon they attacked “notwithstanding,” followed by “pinging” (“rather ‘stinging'”? someone named Alex asked), then “wit” (“I’d say ‘sarcasm,'” Daniel declared), and, finally, “goodness.”
Paul Lamar lives with his husband, Mark, in Albany, NY, where he teaches workshops in memoir, fiction, and poetry.
She called to ask if it bothered me that she and my ex were dating.
Sounds bad until we note that he and I broke up over thirty years ago.
I said fine, please invite me to your wedding.
Doesn’t the Girl Code include somewhere, anywhere, a statute of limitations?
Mary Hickey writes fiction, poetry, and book reviews, and has occasionally committed journalism. She plays way too much online backgammon as mamabear.
The story of the week for January 3 to 7 is…
Aging Children I Am One by Laura C. Alonso