Three days, four hours, twenty minutes…
Two books (one science fiction, one fantasy).
Three crossword puzzles and an adult coloring book.
The house is clean.
I’ve rolled all my coins.
Remote control hastily picked up (and put back down): seven times.
Finally, a beep: power and wi-fi have been restored!
Alyce Clark enjoys getting lost in short stories. Occasionally, she writes a few herself.
The loud engine of the pickup truck keeps interrupting her thoughts.
Exhausted, she peers out the window at the autumn trees.
It’s so different from the city. Admittedly, it’s beautiful. Like driving through fire.
Resigned, she looks ahead at the farmhouse looming before her.
“Welcome to your future,” she whispers.
Thilda Haylock, an Australian teenager in Switzerland, believes that poetry is more than just the words; it’s a feeling all in itself.
I escaped. I locked the door and fled into the country where I absorbed sunshine and gentle breezes; pondered fields, flowers, and flowing water; chatted with friends, would-be friends, and ice-cream servers; and marveled at winged flight, before responsibilities returned me and my key to the lock on the door.
Anne Rokeach thanks the public library systems of Upstate New York for offering workshops which bring to her the joy of learning to write poetry and prose.
I want an app that paints my ceiling and convinces my boss to give me a raise. One that teaches where the past years are. I want an app that cheats death, picks up drunk friends from the airport, and puts a dollar value on kindness.
They’re working on it.
David Holloway lives, works, and writes from Northern Virginia. He has been published in Gargoyle, Agnes and True, The Mad River Review, and 50-Word Stories.
The story of the week for August 23 to 27 is…
OBstacles by Joshua Addison
Conversations that I don’t hear. Bills that I forget to pay. Dinners that burn.
Time passes and I’m late. Missed appointments and lost opportunities.
Did I turn off the lights and lock the door? When is the last time I stopped for gas?
My car putts and stutters and stalls.
Rita Riebel Mitchell writes and lives in the Pinelands of South Jersey with her favorite beta reader.
Strawberries line a path to your garden:
Shimmering, golden, quivering! The lake!
You are ripe;
Will you heal me if
I fall into you, this dry, cold soul?
(Bury me in your depth! Taste my fear!)
Rain falls; I come to the surface:
A war finally won with only
Me.
Katherine Darlington has articles in many publications including poetry anthologies, along with several published novels. When she isn’t riding horses or hiking on some mountain trail, she’s working on a story. See more of her work at New Beginnings.
We left the building for the last time. All the pain, joy, tears and hope we’d experienced within its walls seemed suddenly distant.
I turned to take one more look at the infertility clinic. My wife gently took my hand and with tears in my eyes I held her close.
Joshua Addison always enjoys a good short story.
Lou came flush to the game, with a wad of twenties, fifties, and hundreds. After winning that first hand, with a flush, he felt flush with victory. By midnight—broke, embarrassed—he knew he’d been taken.
He went to the bathroom. Finished, he thought, I’ll show them. He didn’t flush.
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.
Jerry glanced down at his perpetually untied sneakers and noticed that he was wearing two different socks, one ankle and one crew. He pulled the left up and pushed the right down.
He rang the doorbell for the second time, then knocked for good measure, hoping that she would answer.
Nick works as a clinician at a mental health crisis hotline. He writes a bit for fun.