A star performer was missing from the dog and pony show.
“Where’s your trick pony?” the ringmaster asked the head of the equestrian troupe. “The filly that answers questions involving numbers by the tapping of a front hoof.”
“Trixie’s out with tendonitis. Some wiseacre asked her how old Methuselah was.”
John H. Dromey’s short fiction has been published in Mystery Weekly Magazine and over one-hundred-fifty other venues.
I rolled him onto his back.
His eyes were wide open.
Blood trickled from his mouth.
I touched his throat, feeling for a pulse.
It was a dumb thing to do.
Cold as he was, there remained a warmth in his eyes,
as though some reflection had gotten trapped there.
Bob Thurber is the author of “Paperboy: A Dysfunctional Novel” and four collections of short fiction. 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 of awards, and been utilized in schools and colleges throughout the world. He resides in Massachusetts. Visit his website at BobThurber.net.
Mustering her dignity, she says to the amused maître d’ – “I don’t usually produce crackers from my person”.
They regard the salty rectangle on the tastefully tiled floor, recently evacuated from her folded coat.
He runs appreciative eyes over her. “I’m just waiting to see if there will be cheese.”
Jordana Connor is a long-time scribbler and fledgling submitter of short stories and flash fiction. She enjoys excruciatingly bad puns, delicious swear words, and the Oxford comma. She lives in Brisbane.
“It won’t work.”
“Course it will, son.” Pa was an optimist.
So Pa brought the cat to his house. The dog went crazy. The fighting lasted a week until Pa finally had to throw the cat out.
He’d thrown Ma out the same way. But nobody listens to a ten-year-old.
Dedicated to education and being a father, E. F. S. Byrne has finally found more time to devote to his writing and is currently working on everything from very short flash stories to full-length novels. Samples and links to over thirty published stories can be read at efsbyrne.wordpress.com or follow him on Twitter at @efsbyrne.
The story of the week for January 27 to 31 is…
Next Day’s Receipt by Andrew C. Nosti
New Year’s Resolution: lose weight, join a gym, take up a hobby, learn to fly, quit smoking, quit drinking, go for an annual physical, stop biting nails, read a book, spend less, save more, get a job, quit swearing, submit to 50 word stories.
One down, twelve more to go.
Marjan Sierhuis loves reading 50 word stories.
LUCKY CHARMS CRL———————————————————-$3.49
GAL 2% MLK———————————————————————$3.89
UNISOM SLPTABS————————————————————-$6.99
SALE GILLETTE RZR———————————————————–$7.99
JIF CRMY PNTBTR————————————————————-$2.57
EGGS DZN————————————————————————$2.49
ABSOLUT VODKA————————————————————-$19.99
KLEENEX————————————————————————–$6.99
EMPTY ARMS, APPELBAUM———————————————–$12.95
TOTAL………………………………………………………….$67.35
RETURN: GOODNIGHT MOON, BROWN——————————–$4.98
RETURN: SHEETS BLU———————————————————$6.99
RETURN: PIONEER PHOTO ALBM—————————————$11.99
NET TOTAL…………………………………………………….$43.39
Andrew C. Nosti is a recent graduate of Gettysburg College, having studied English with a writing concentration and history. He has been published in Gettysburg College’s The Mercury and the Emerging Writers of Pennsylvania series.
Cruelly, the mirror mocks me, shows me what I’ve wanted for so long.
A sideways glance reveals my swollen stomach,
Neatly rounded, bloated from the drugs,
Curving out as though I’m six months pregnant.
Empty, stitched and sore when all I dreamt of was a child.
Realistically, that’s impossible now.
Jo Withers writes micros, flash, and shorts from her home in South Australia. Recent fiction can be found in Milk Candy Review, Ellipsis Zine and Lunate.
I was six when my father left. I remember his hands, large and coarse, letting go of mine to hurl a battered suitcase into his rusting, coughing car.
Now his hands seem small and frail, shaking with fear for his next long journey.
I cannot bring myself to clasp them.
Charlie Swailes writes short and very short stories when not teaching English or looking after her two small boys.
We moved West for the smoke. That wasn’t the reason, but the reality in our lungs. We didn’t have fires back East. We had sarcasm. Which wasn’t a problem there. We paid our taxes where the air is clear enough to see acid rain, where springtime storms devour marble cemeteries.
JR Walsh writes in landlocked Idaho, but itsjrwalsh.com floats everywhere.