They call it beach nourishment, dredge sand off the ocean floor, and push it through a pipeline to shore.
He lost a house in the hurricane that took the beach. That took his son. But the misplaced sand doesn’t make anything right. It’s nothing but bait for the next storm.
Jon Fain’s most recent publications are in Molecule, Star 82 Review, Scribes Micro Fiction, The Drabble, The Dribble Drabble Review, and The Twin Bill. Follow him on Twitter at @jonsfain.
What if dreams are real and ordinary life is a series of nightmares?
What if the whole world and everybody in it is sleeping in your closet?
What if your bed is actually hiding underneath the monsters
and the crooked shadows keeping you awake aren’t from the coatrack at all?
Bob Thurber is the author of six books. Regarded as a master of Flash and Micro Fiction, his work has appeared in Esquire and other magazines, been anthologized 60 times, received a long list of awards, and been utilized in schools and colleges throughout the world. He resides in Massachusetts. Visit his website at BobThurber.net.
It was a light shower, a mere smattering of water droplets barely dampening the ground, but I stared transfixed.
Barely noticing the triumphant whoops of the colonists, I watched tiny rivulets zig-zag down my visor, stunned by the magnitude of our achievement.
We’d done it! It was raining on Mars.
Helen M. Merrick lives in the UK Midlands with her family. When she’s not teaching, she likes to scribble short stories and dream about writing a novel. She might, one day. See more at authorhelenmerrick.wordpress.com.
Nose pressed to stone, you say, “I just love watching ants.”
Your cheeks smile and I think into my drink how raising you is heavy but loving you is weightless.
“Where did the ant go?”
Unburdened, you crawl after your question. Already my beer is warm with watching you become.
Joree writes when she can with what she has.
The story of the week for May 3 to 7 is…
Demon’s Windfall by Michelle Wilson
Patient: Age 62
Numerology is the study of numbers. In China, 8 represents luck. Two loops suggest repetition, linking to infinity.
May 8 is World Ovarian Cancer Day. On May 8, 53 years ago, I developed ovarian cancer; 3 years ago, a 5-cm bowel sarcoma. Don’t let the numbers stop.
Hope Haefner, MD, is the Co-Director of the Childhood Ovarian Cancer Association. She is a survivor of an ovarian cancer (grade 2 to 3 immature teratoma) and a grade 3 leiomyosarcoma of the small bowel.
It waited patiently
on the bedpost, backseat, produce shelf
while her parents fought
in the next room, front seat, supermarket
leaving her unattended, abandoned,
_______________________________vacant.
She held her breath, frozen,
not fearing their anger
but the demon
_______(edging closer by the minute),
misconstruing
any move she made
_______for an invitation.
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.
Surprisingly, becoming a mother didn’t wait for my son’s birth. Mid-pregnancy I awoke with the thought that “I am a mother.” Shock, then awe as I realized my position within the universe had irrevocably changed for all eternity.
Forty years parenting, ten years grieving. Still a mother. Still his mother.
Eileen has four sons spread throughout the universe, with three still with her on Earth.
“I see things.” Her words send a shiver down my spine. “Mama’s red hair. Papa’s scowl.”
“Liv…”
Memories flicker in her eyes. Endless nights of quilt-cover armour and tears.
“I’m afraid they’re back.”
I glance into the hallway, where our parents’ silhouettes hover. I can’t tell her they never left.
Anna Sanderson writes about the world as she sees it (with the odd twist and turn). You can follow her story on Twitter at @annasanderson86.
Crunching gravel and canned cherry freshener.
You, me, and the endless road, twisted like black licorice.
Remember?
Your favorite toy—the squeaking pig—steals your passenger seat spot with equal measures of innocence and callousness. I give her a good squeeze and crack open the window for old times’ sake.
Author’s note: In memory of Haus, the coolest Jack Russell
Torché is passionate about God, anime, and writing. She combines these three elements in her manga (that she co-writes with her sister), TheRemnant: This Is Not Flesh & Blood.