Breathlessly, I stammer my way through apologies, grabbing bookbags, coats, papers from the teacher, nodding-head and fake smiles, checking her watch as she closes the door. My daughter’s embarrassment is evident on her reddened cheeks and averted gaze, and I sigh, wondering when the trauma of school will truly finish.
Charlie Swailes writes flash fiction and teaches English.
The ball rolls down the opaque tube, before coming to a standstill next to the other five numbers. It seals my fate as a brand new multimillionaire.
“What are you watching?” my wife asks when she enters the room.
“Oh, nothing really,” I say, putting the paper in my pocket.
Cindy Hossain is an English Literacy student and enthusiastic amateur writer. When she’s not busy putting pen to paper, she’s taking care of her three young children and two dogs.
Shaded Bronx sidewalks, children shouting, and the green Buick that was serving as second base.
Upstairs, Grandma left her teeth on the lace doily next to the water glass
and empty pill bottles. What she had threatened, she had done.
The ambulance took her away. My father brought her back.
Linda McCauley Freeman has been widely published in international literary journals and anthologies, including a Chinese translation of her work. She is a three-time winner of the Talespinners Short Story contest judged by Michael Korda, Linda McCauley Freeman has an MFA in writing and literature from Bennington College.
Dakini, please forgive me because I do not remember the exact place of your grave.
We buried you at Coyote Overlook in a gopher-wire cage filled with marijuana and mugwort and daisies. Underneath the pines, we erected a three-stone cairn—now long covered in needles or branches—
I don’t know.
Rachel Teferet is a marketing copywriter, novelist, and poet. Her work has been published by Subprimal Poetry Art, Zoetic Press’ NonBinary Review, and more. See more at lettersandfeathers.wordpress.com.
“Sorry we didn’t come back earlier.”
July warmth, salt, sunshine- flooding into the car that parks in the seam of pavement and beach. Birds laughing distant. Sunscreen uncapping, close. Sand’s likely too hot to walk on barefoot.
“Better late than never, huh?” she says.
The urn beside her says nothing.
Riley Montag is a Colorado-based trickster that’s usually up to Trouble, but not generally up to No Good. Follow Riley at @RileyAMontag.
Color splashed with feverish focus. Patterns known only to a mind set free.
Others, unknowing, are critical and harsh.
Persevering and reaching upward. Drawing inspiration from a well that any day could run dry. Straining to unveil what lies in darkness. Wanting only to give birth to what was dead.
Ken Grant is a freelance writer living in Santa Ana, California. His stories have appeared in Left Hand Publishers, Jitter Press, and Alien Dimensions.
Hands folded, he approaches the Master and bows respectfully.
“Are you ready?” the Master says.
“I am.”
“Well then, what is the sound of one hand clapping?”
He blinks slowly, smiles, then says, “I have no idea.”
The Master arches one eyebrow, strokes his long goatee, and says, “Very good.”
Jim Courter’s short stories have appeared in the United States, Canada, and England. He is a Pushcart Prize nominee and has won an Illinois Arts Council award for short fiction. His essays have appeared in The Chronicle of Higher Education, Smithsonian, and on the op-ed pages of the Chicago Tribune and The Wall Street Journal. His mystery novel, Rhymes with Fool, was published in 2018 by Peasantry Press. First Things First: Ephemera and Offscourings of a Distracted Writer, a collection of essays, humor, and short stories, was published in 2019.
The story of the week for October 11 to 15 is…
Legacy by Janet Feldman
Grandma cooks with me beyond her years. But I’m not always up for her antics. Pots boil over, spice jars spill, and eggs crack inexplicably. Mostly though, I enjoy her presence. Especially today. It’s her birthday. I’m making her favorite: Devil’s Food Cake. She would have turned 107 years old.
Elizabeth Zahn writes from Long Island, NY, for now. Please visit ElizabethZahn.com.
He’d loved her since their first shift together at The Greasy Chicken, hyper-aware of her presence, her laugh, the twist of blond hair under the net, then smiling at the white deodorant smudge on her tank top which meant maybe she wasn’t a goddess, meant maybe he had a chance.
Amy is a Minnesota-based writer in love with the short form. Find her at ashortgirl.com and on Instagram @ashortgirlwrites.