I float on the open ocean. Sunlight bores down, fracturing me into pieces. Toxins seep into my translucent skin. Sea animals nibble me, eager to begin feasting.
This agony has only just begun. I’ll live for centuries.
Nostalgia hits me. A happier time, when all I did was carry groceries.
Abigail is a student who loves creative writing in all forms and genres. She writes around her busy uni schedule and enters competitions with the aim of one day getting published!
My eyes widened in shock as I saw him kneeling before me. A handsome gentleman was right there on his knees with a ring in his hand. I didn’t know who he was, but I was ready to accept anyways. “Will you marry me, Joanne?” he said.
My name’s Brandon.
Ash K. Gray is an amateur young writer. They’ve written several short stories and a few articles, mainly for fun. They mostly write comedy, parody or psychological thrillers, but may occasionally try a different genre.
The story of the week for December 14 to 18 is…
Consumed by Josie Cellone
and
A Chip Off the Old Block by Ben Mimmack
The tip of the pregnancy test looks like coconut pulp.
Instinctively, Collette wants to run her fingers through it, like the silicone bristles of a basting brush.
She imagines amniotic fluid flooded with Pisco Sours, raw egg whites whisked into an embryo.
A two-week bender reduced to two pink lines.
Josie Cellone is a recovering journalist and aspiring fiction writer who lives in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania and daydreams about waterfront property.
I had been away too long.
Back to the comforts of home. Familiar places, friendly faces, birds singing into the air that once sent my dreams aloft. Some long forgotten, others I could never let go.
Home is forgiving, though, patiently waiting its turn to claim “I knew her when.”
Lisa Chambers is a Texas girl who wishes all of you a happy holiday season.
“Do you remember this?” I trace grooves in the plaque. An engraved spaceship glints, perpetually airborne.
Dad’s eyes remain closed, lips parted.
“We went to Cape Canaveral. You shook the president’s hand.”
Nurses appear and vanish.
I wonder if Dad feels like he’s floating. Preparing to sail into the unknown.
Emily Roth is a librarian and writer based in Chicago. Her writing has recently been published by Exposition Review, Brilliant Flash Fiction, and TL;DR Press, and she was shortlisted for the 2020 SmokeLong Quarterly Award for Flash Fiction.
Lightbulbs shattered and sparked. Free at last!
Spheres of light drifted outside. They floated over buildings, resembling moving stars. These stars huddled together in a small forest. Giggles came from them as leaves brushed against their faces.
An abandoned temple impeded their earthy merriment. Its disheveled state made them cry.
Jerome Newsome is an upcoming writer who has been published in Aftermath Magazine and soon to be published in Fiction Southeast. When not writing, he likes to play video games.
The relentless sun beat down on the old man in the stern. Ahead, his son pulled in the net, easy movements belying the backbreaking effort. The man looked at the few, undersized fish in the boat and wondered whether he had been right to teach his son everything he knew.
Ben lives in Dallas where he is viewed with tolerant amusement by his wife and two small boys. He occasionally writes screenplays, which are primarily treated with indifference, but he lives in hope.
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.