The story of the week for June 7 to 11 is…
This is Definitely the Last Time by H.A. Piacentino
REB ELKIN: The Book You Hold
The book in your hands is an antique. The cover appears featureless at first, but look carefully and you will see some faint markings. A face. Your own, but much older.
Wherever you send the book —a thrift store, the trash— it will always make its way back to you.
Reb Elkin writes science fiction & fantasy. See more at rebelkinwriter.com.
MATTHEW EICHENLAUB: Bumpa and Grandson’s Big Adventure While in Maryland Visiting a College
We took a wrong turn off Maryland-295
on purpose, knowing the outcome.
First exit: NSA EMPLOYEES ONLY.
Second: DELIVERIES FOR NSA.
Nothing about “ONLY.” The police,
in combat gear, were suspicious.
We only wanted to see
the shimmering façade,
not the land of OZ,
or a wizard behind
the curtain.
Matthew Eichenlaub, an old intercept operator from the 1960s – the age of analogue – thinks he still has “A Need to Know.”
ARCHIBALD HOBBS: Eternity
Majestic waterfalls, cascading and splashing; deep rivers, surging and flowing; mountain streams, sparkling and burbling; heavy rain, falling and sweeping; powerful surf, cresting and churning; all God’s work, in which we rejoice, but all things Maxwell tried not to think about as he willed his excruciating bus ride to end.
Archibald Hobbs is looking forward to the publication of his debut novel, “The Glorious Face of Sorrow” (Austin Macauley), later this year. Whilst he primarily writes to impress his wife, he would not object to a wider audience.
H.A. PIACENTINO: This Is Definitely the Last Time
I don’t think about you anymore.
Okay, sometimes in dreams. Okay, maybe for an hour or two after I wake up. Okay, maybe just before bed, just to make sure you’re not there when I close my eyes.
I don’t write about you either.
This is definitely the last time.
H. A. Piacentino is a writer based in Glasgow, Scotland. His work appears here and there. You can find him on Twitter at @h_a_piacentino.
MARILYN McFARLANE: The Hereafter
You hoped it would be different, a second chance. You’d sit by your mom, hold her frail hand and apologize. Tell your father that in spite of everything he was a good dad. Embrace your sister, joke with your brothers. Explain to your ex-husband so this time he’d finally understand.
Marilyn McFarlane is a travel writer and the author of Sacred Stories: Wisdom From World Religions. She writes poetry and fiction and occasionally explores memoir. She lives in Oregon, where there is a lot of scope for the imagination.
MICHELLE DICKINS: Interchange
Nancy’s commute consisted of thirteen steps and a hop. An extra hop if her pants caught on her ankle. It took thirty-four seconds on average to connect to zoom. She saved $18.30 on the fare. But what she wouldn’t give for Thea’s flat bread spanakopita, one block from the office.
Michelle lives and writes short stories in Geelong, Australia. She works as a Community Outreach Nurse.
CHRISTINE REEVES: One More Day
I lie in bed, windows wide open, listening to the dawn chorus.
High warbling songs with trembling notes and trills. Tunes full of repeated whistles as well as gorgeous, fluting, melodious refrains.
It signifies the start of another day.
My diagnosis was terminal but, like the birds, I’m still alive.
Christine Reeves has always wanted to write a novel, so far an unfulfilled ambition. To help develop her skills she started Creative Writing classes, but soon realised a novel was a distant dream. She now concentrates on flash fiction and very short stories.
DANIEL QUILLEN: It Happened One Night
On a dark, lonely road between Tehachapi and Mojave,
In the back seat, he hovered, speaking gently, soothing.
She focused on the dome light, first-time nervous.
When finished, she named the wee babe after the man who delivered him: Trooper Smith.
On a dark, lonely road between Tehachapi and Mojave.
Daniel Quillen retired and lives in Castle Rock, Colorado with his wife. They enjoy visiting their seventeen grandchildren, most of which are spread coast-to-coast.
MICHELLE WILSON: An Ephemeral Bliss
He was doing headstands on the beach when a radio blared: Income inequality at all-time high!
Sinking, he allowed the sand to reach his ears.
Violence, poverty, global warming!
“Oh, enough already,” he grumbled.
Down went his head, nice and snug, until the radio was muted.
Then the sea rose.
Michelle Wilson’s words have appeared in Litro Magazine, The Drabble, 50-Word Stories, Literally Stories, Flash Fiction Magazine, and Mr. Beller’s Neighborhood, among others. She lives in Miami Beach, Florida. Sometimes she can be found at medium.com/@wilsmk.