The story of the week for August 25 to 29 is…
The Power of Touch by Lilian Pomeroy Edmonds
and
Birralyn means the sparks of the banksia over there by Fiona H. Evans
MATTHEW KLINESTIVER: Car Share
White SUVs, gray minivans, silver sedans. Self-driving, late 2040s makes. Kasparov tapped his ID card to the window, but the door didn’t unlock. A notification flashed across his field of vision. “Credit score too low; access denied.” Kasparov sighed, put on his gloves, and picked up a concrete block off the street.
Matthew Klinestiver is an American English teacher residing in Bangkok, Thailand. In his spare time, he enjoys studying Mandarin, composing catchy pop songs on the piano, and watching old Godard films.
NEIL FOSTER: Gary and Jean
“What have you done?” said Jean, looking straight ahead, Gary in the passenger seat.
Parked at the kerb, they both watched as a young couple entered their home of thirty years, closing the door firmly behind them. Red car in the driveway. Gates locked.
Gary began to smile, eyes glittering.
Neil Foster is a composer, music therapist and budding writer from Northern Ireland. His music has been featured widely across local and international media, including BBC Radio and TV, and he writes fiction, non fiction and poetry.
JIM ANDERSON: Lots of Crackers
One evening at the Westend Grill, Reid looked up from his chili to see his dead uncle sitting across the table.
Uncle Kirby sported his usual half-smile and red-checkered shirt. He nodded at the bowl.
“I liked lots of crackers in mine, too,” he said.
Reid crumbled in another saltine.
Jim Anderson is a retired college teacher who lives and writes in south-eastern Michigan.
MICHAELE JORDAN: Teamwork
My cat sat on the corner of my desk and watched me type. Every day for twelve years. Sometimes she’d tap my keyboard to correct my spelling. Today she wasn’t there. So I put a picture of her there instead. But the picture doesn’t spell any better than I do.
Michaele Jordan is the author of Mirror Maze. See more at michaelejordan.com.
ADELE GALLOGLY: Witnessing
Of course we’re wondering about the dead bus stop crow. Raven? Grackle? A smash of black on cement, witch-guts gross. We see the suited man who’s been hounding us before school, his Jehovah pamphlets flapping: “WHERE are YOU going?”
We bend to the bird, searching for its ears. Whisper: go.
Adele Gallogly’s very short stories have been published in FlashFlood, Writers’ Hour, Six-Sentences, and Paragraph Planet. You can follow her on BlueSky.
FIONA H EVANS: Birralyn means the sparks of the banksia over there
I wake and wander riverside
on a crisp winter morning.
Sunshine chases chills
from my bones
while my heart warms
with wonder
that I am welcome here
in what will always be
Aboriginal land.
My history not white-washed
but somehow forgiven.
My love for this place
a gift of grace.
Fiona H Evans has lived for 25 years in the suburb of Bayswater, by the Swan River in Perth. She walks the riverside every day in a place named Birralyn by local Noongar people long before it became Bayswater. Ever changing, ever the same, this place is as beautiful as it was 25 years ago. Probably as beautiful as it was a hundred years ago. Or 45,000 years ago, which is how long we have evidence of Noongar people living here. But of course, they’ve been here longer. This was always their land.
LILIAN POMEROY EDMONDS: The Power of Touch
The woman strokes century-old, burgundy-colored poems on crumbling letterhead to time-travel. Memories magically appear. She is five years old standing behind her beloved grandmother, watching while the poet writes. The child wants to be old too, an author, like her idol. Not a lost ghost visiting from the distant future.
Former journalist and technical writer Lilian Pomeroy Edmonds is working on a poetry anthology with braided essays inspired by her grandmother’s poems written from 1899-1932. You can browse her work on Substack at wavingfromadistance.substack.com.
PAUL T: Mother’s Day 2049
The train left the station.
Maya stood alone, holding a letter she would never send. Snow slowly covered her nearly-empty battery pack. She watched her footprints disappear. For the first time she felt calm and steady. She didn’t need to say goodbye. She didn’t want to. She wasn’t programmed to.
Paul T. is a rising sophomore at Suffield Academy in Connecticut. Originally from Thailand, Paul enjoys literature and exploring foreign languages.
RITA RIEBEL MITCHELL: Fate Takes a Turn
What if I hadn’t moved to this city and rented the apartment, right next to hers?
What if our paths hadn’t crossed at the bus stop, the coffee shop, the market?
What if she had let me love her and she had loved me back?
Would she still be alive?
Rita Riebel Mitchell writes in the Pinelands of South Jersey where she lives amongst the trees with her husband. Her work appears in HAD, Flash Fiction Magazine, Versification, and more. Find her at ritariebelmitchell.com/friday-micro/.