High up in the mountains, fleeing wars, battling blizzards, struggling to evade adversity, we were famished and weary. We dragged our bodies forward. The perilous road stretched ahead, seemingly endless. Crying, you collapsed in my arms. You said, “We have lost everything.” And I whispered, “We still have each other.”
Emmily Magtalas Rhodes is a freelance writer living in a spa town in England.
“Never look directly at the mountains,” warns Peik’s ma. “The gods will strike you down.”
“That’s ridiculous!” says Peik. “They’ve no reason to hurt me. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
In a fit of pique, Peik peeks at the snowy peaks.
The gods, offended by the excess homophones, smite him instantly.
C.M.F. Wright is an avid reader and sentence wrangler. Her short stories have appeared in Fifty Word Stories, Microfiction Monday, Syntax & Salt Magazine and the VSS365 Anthology.
A man walks in a desert. Exhausted. Dehydrated.
Near death, he sees a lone flower. Against all odds, it has grown in a lifeless place.
Hope. If a mere flower can survive, so can he.
Years later, with a finger, he brushes its petals. He chuckles. The flower is plastic.
L.D. Water is a latina scientist trying to dabble in some writing.
The story of the week for December 21 to 25 is…
The Gift Exchange by Zoe J. Walker
What last-minute present did you bring this year? Another box of chocolates? Ha! Batteries? A kazoo?
You’d think just one time you could be thoughtful. I’m dying! This is my last Christmas, my last gift.
Let’s see what kind of nonsense… Oh. A donation.
To the Cancer Society.
I’m… speechless.
Gary Cormier wrote this story.
He slides a present under the tree.
The child rolls over and exhales, dreaming of the delights of Christmas morning.
He collects a single second of life and adds it to his own.
Consider it… an exchange of gifts.
As long as there are children who believe, he will endure.
Zoe J. Walker lives between Rome and Edinburgh. She’s currently searching for representation for her novel. She won second place in November’s 2020 micro fiction competition at Retreat West. Find her at www.zoejwalker.com.
Dear babies,
Listen. I know it hurts. I’m sorry it hurts.
But don’t stop stretching those muscles.
You’re doing great. You’re growing stronger.
Don’t ever believe you’re grasping at nothing.
The distance hasn’t widened between us. I’m still right here.
Some days I can almost feel your fingertips.
Keep reaching.
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.
Christmas dinner at Aunt Ruthie’s. The old man beside me looks familiar. He asks, “Ben, have you been good?”
His chuckle fills the entire room, and I remember—fluffy white beard, velvety red suit—Christmas at Grandma’s.
I grin, six again; and from somewhere, beyond icicled houses, sleigh bells jingle.
Lisa Marie Lopez resides in northern California where she enjoys quiet walks and writing fiction. She’s had short stories published in many different literary journals and anthologies, including Train River anthology and From the Depths literary journal. Say hello at facebook.com/authorlisamariefiction
The siren watched sailors drown every day.
The cabin boy remained alone on his ship, tears streaming.
His crew had worn such enamoured expressions, dreamily drawn overboard into the rolling waters below.
Terrified, heartbroken, he watched the siren as she sang, her spellbinding song never reaching his unhearing, soundless world.
Charis Negley is a Delawarian getting her BS in professional writing at Taylor University. She is currently working on her novel and evaluating manuscripts for IlluminateYA. See more on her blog.
The judge addressed the defendant with palpable disgust.
“You, sir, have been found guilty of heinous crimes against humanity. Do you have anything to say before I pronounce your sentence?”
The defendant shrugged.
“The commercial on tv asked me to donate organs. Never said they had to be my organs!”
Kelli Simpson is a mother and writer living in Norman, Oklahoma. She has published work in Lamplit Underground, Rabid Oak, The Avenue, Ghost City Review, and The River.