On his ninth Christmas, Adam presses inquisitive eyes to his new telescope. Magis’ candles, he marvels, christening fiery stars with childhood’s fancy, forging a closeness against their remoteness.
Aged eighty, he discovers a new star, eternalizes his name. He shuns ensuing fame, only savors his lifelong glimpse into heaven’s mystery.
Gary Thomson is old enough to know better, but he still wishes on falling stars.
My brain knows you are gone. It spends long, fruitless hours explaining this to the rest of me. There are graphs and spreadsheets, detailed PowerPoint presentations, and endless lectures that lay bare the facts for all to see. My heart takes it all in, nods politely, and continues to bleed.
Aeryn Rudel wrote this story.
Dad stood on the doorstep. “Come in, love. You’ll catch your death.”
“You know I always decorate the linden outside at Christmas. It cheers up the whole street.” Ma bound the trunk with tinsel.
They cut down the tree the year after Ma died.
Dad said the roots had gone.
R. J. Kinnarney is a tutor and author of children’s novel, Abigail Aces Acting. R. J.’s short story, The Blue Bowl, was runner-up in the Daunt Books short story competition. She won the Southam Book Festival 100 word story competition and has been published in 100 Words of Solitude, The Write In, Funny Pearls. She is currently working on a novel, which looks at attitudes to war, together with changing methods and speed of communication. See more at rjkinnarney.com and follow R.J. on Twitter at @rjkinnarney
My first memory? Darkness. Devoid of all senses.
One question consumed my thoughts: Why must I be alone?
For millennia I floated, exploring the void and, eventually, my powers.
My favorite memory? The day I birthed the universe. I made light, warmth, humans.
Powers consumed; I was no longer alone.
Alyson grew up in Arizona, and moved to Maryland where she got married, had her only daughter, and began writing. She has appeared in Altered Reality Magazine and has a piece coming soon at (mac)ro(mic).
The story of the week for December 7 to 11 is…
A Temporary Interruption by Dick Narvett
She found them at the bar, two men in their mid-thirties knocking back whiskey at her best friend’s memorial. She looked from one to the other. “Are you the good brother or the bad brother?” she asked.
The panic on their faces was gratifying.
They’d both been very bad brothers.
Carolyn R. Russell is the author of The Films of Joel and Ethan Coen, published by McFarland & Company in 2001. Her humorous YA mystery, Same As It Never Was, was released in 2018 by Big Table. Carolyn’s new YA dystopian thriller, In the Fullness of Time, was published by Vine Leaves Press in March of 2020. Her essays and short stories have appeared in a variety of publications, including The Boston Globe, Flash Fiction Magazine, and Bridge Eight Press. She holds an M.A. in Film Studies from Chapman University, and has taught on the college, high school, and middle school levels. Carolyn lives north of Boston with her husband and two children.
When Pam Sweeney began going on and on every time any of us ran into her, it was understandable: her husband, nice Phil, had died just two months before. But we also agreed it was time to start getting things back to normal, to start subtly avoiding her as usual.
Paul Lamar wrote this story.
He studied his frail body’s reflection in the dairy case door. What was it he had come for?
His flushed face pressed against the cool glass. A voice came to him as if from another place or time.
“You alright, sir? Sit here, you’ll feel better.”
Butter! That was it!
Dick Narvett is a retiree from a prior life in international business and independent film acting. He currently resides in Pennsylvania where he writes flash fiction and poetry.
Hello?
Can you hear me?
I’ve been calling out
For years now
To anyone
Ever since I went missing.
Are you still looking for me?
I’m right here.
I haven’t moved
Not since
He buried me for all those years.
Please don’t give up on me.
I haven’t on you.
James Schell has a BFA and typically works in photographic film and ceramics. He has been writing for years but has just started trying to get his work published and is excited to see where it takes him.
The elf sat on the shelf. Waiting. Observing. Dad was oblivious while Mom ignored the stupid decoration. The children uneasily crept past him in the living and dining rooms, even their bedrooms!
Good, bad. Whatever. Sitting among the gifts, the elf clutched the cold scalpel.
Christmas, so naughty and nice!
Retired and writing when not busy with retirement, Bob enjoys creating short fiction and poetry. Bob loves the spirit of the holidays but finds a particular decoration just too creepy.