The story of the week for February 22 to 26 is…
Unsinkable by David Derey
DAN MORRISON: Climbing a Maple Tree
The boy waited in the big maple tree for his father, who’d be right outside. Half an hour. Then a full.
So the boy jumped and mangled his arm.
Father had a call. It was important, which the boy understood, and his mother was more help in these situations anyways.
Dan Morrison was born and raised in Holyoke, Massachusetts. He attended the University of Massachusetts, where he earned a B.A. in English and a Letter of Specialization in Creative Writing. He then moved to Altamonte Springs, just outside Orlando, with his girlfriend and their two dogs. In the past he has won awards, like the Class of 1940 Prize in Literature, and has been published in The Green Light Journal. Morrison is a prolific college football writer, editor, and SEO writer.
SL BOWEN: No Secrets
The widow and her husband’s erstwhile friend met to plan the memorial service, discussing arrangements over cocktails in the courtyard of a lovely inn.
Did he ever suspect? the friend asked. A sudden gust of wind tore rose petals loose. They landed on the lovers like bloody tears.
S.L. Bowen has had work published in The George Mason Review, Writer’s Work, and 50-Word Stories.
PAULINE RENDALL: Danse Macabre
“Dance with me,” she said, holding out a skinny hand.
Mark felt the bones under her skin, saw the hollow eye sockets, heard the music floating through the night air.
With her arm around his waist, she led him into the throng of slow-moving dancers. “Come,” she said. “It’s time.”
Pauline Rendall writes crime as Paula K. Randall, and has self-published a novel under that name. She has a story in the collection In a Word: Murder. Pauline lives in Essex and loves opera and cats.
LAURA BESLEY: Silent Cries Echo
On the eve of each full moon, the Elders meet.
“Betty and Jim,” the Chief says, her long earrings jangling, “are struggling. She’s too pale. He’s drinking too much. Someone needs to take them under their wing.”
I remember the pain of an empty cradle. “I’ll do it,” I say.
Laura Besley writes short fiction and squeezes her writing into the bookends of her day. She has lived in Holland, Germany, and Hong Kong, but now lives in land-locked central England and misses the sea. Her flash fiction collection, The Almost Mothers, was published in March 2020. She tweets at @laurabesley.
CASEY LAINE: Brief Meeting at Dawn
Night gushes:
“Oh, the glimmering beauty
Of the moon!
A gentle goddess
Draping her cool, white veils
across the land.”
Day smiles and nods.
Already the rising sun
Burns heavy on weary shoulders.
But eyes long blinded
Do not want for beauty,
Nor count up the cost
Of bearing Life.
Casey Laine comes from a long line of talkative women. She works as Fantasy Editor at Cosmic Roots and Eldritch Shores, and publishes an annual anthology of fiction and poetry for her writing group, Writers Assembled. In her spare time, she chases butterflies with her camera. Find her on Facebook.
DAVID DEREY: Unsinkable
I put my worry on a boat.
Left it in the Atlantic
Night after
as I sat crying on the pier
it came floating back
Drilled a hole in it
shoved it into the stream.
Haven’t seen it since.
I know it’s still out there
A ton of my worry.
David Derey wrote this poem.
DAVE ZACKER: Monsters on Alpha Centauri IV
Escaped through the hatch!
No time for my suit.
No time for my helmet;
No time for my boots.
I’ll chance it outside,
It’s Earth-like enough;
Four light-years’ travel
Is making me tough.
I must save this mission.
Plain to see:
They’re changing into Centaurians,
The whole crew except me.
Dave and his wife Kate live in rural Pennsylvania with their two hungry rescue cats. His work has appeared in Fifty Word Stories. He’ll always be thrilled remembering seeing Space Shuttle Columbia land at Edwards in 1983.
BEN MIMMACK: Table For One
“Can I borrow your paper?”
I looked up and knew she was the one. The universe had thrown us together. Forever. We would tell our children about this moment.
“Please do.”
She finished reading and left without another word.
The universe and I haven’t been seeing eye to eye lately.
Ben has been trying to write happier stories. He’s not sure this is one of them.
KARALYN WAYNE: Elena
City council on Tuesdays, marathon practice on Wednesdays, volunteering on Thursdays, and late shift on Fridays. No friends; doesn’t have the time. Energy drinks fill her bag, and concealer to disguise tired eyes.
A bright smile hides the fact that she doubts she’ll ever live up to the world’s expectations.
Karalyn Wayne enjoys reading poetry in her armchair with a warm drink close by. She takes inspiration from long walks with her dog and the conversations of noisy neighbors. When she isn’t procrastinating, she writes. This is her second published story.