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.
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.
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.
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.
He purchases the tickets ahead online. We stuff my purse with store-bought Snickers and Skittles. He treats me to theater soda and popcorn once there, requests extra butter on my behalf.
For one hour and thirty-seven minutes, we forget that there was ever a time when we didn’t get along.
Christine Naprava is a writer from South Jersey. Her poems have appeared in Soundings East and Studio One.
The story of the week for May 31 to June 4 is…
Turning Around by Yash Seyedbagheri
He’d been taught that cracking an egg and finding a double yolk was a good omen. Today he discovered it isn’t always true. He opened one this morning, before anyone else was awake; before they found him in the kitchen; before they called the ambulance; before it drove away, slowly.
Ron. Lavalette lives on Vermont’s Canadian border. His poetry, flash fiction, and creative nonfiction has been very widely published in both print and pixel forms. His first chapbook, Fallen Away (Finishing Line Press), is now available at all standard outlets. A reasonable sample of his published works can be found at EGGS OVER TOKYO.
To my face you questioned, criticised, chipped away.
Behind my back you blamed, sidelined.
I saw you today for the first time since I left that job.
I kept walking, straight ahead. Kept my dignity.
The scars no one can see are still healing
But you have lost your sting.
Brian Maycock has stories due in June in BFS Horizons and Lost Horizons Horror. He lives in Scotland.
Dough. I needed dough that day.
Ray would loan it for a price.
Me? I took the loan. “Oy vey—”
father said, “such bad advice!”
Soul? I sold mine on that day,
lamenting the price I’d pay.
Teams of hitmen bat away
’til I pay them back their dough!
Ken Gosse prefers writing short, rhyming, humorous poetry. First published in First Literary Review–East in November 2016, he is also in The Offbeat, Pure Slush, Parody, Home Planet News Online, and other publications. Raised in the Chicago suburbs, now retired, he and his wife have lived with their dogs and cats in Mesa, AZ, over twenty years.
Soon after the admission to full membership of a significant number of female applicants, the board of a previously all-male Bostonian club considered a motion for a new construction project designed specifically to expand the capacity of the powder rooms.
To no one’s great surprise, the voting followed potty lines.
John H. Dromey has had short fiction published in Mystery Weekly Magazine and 190 other venues.