The day Dad died, the world didn’t end—but the birds forgot how to sing. His empty chair echoed louder than thunder. I reached for his voice in dreams, only to wake with nothing but shadows. Grief isn’t loud. It’s the silence that follows love, and never quite leaves.
Jenny Hart wrote this story.
During the miserably hot sultry nights those of us renting rooms on the third-floor climbed through a window onto the porch roof. We set up lawn chairs, sipped beers and smoked cigarettes. We talked about things we’d lost, about breakups and custody battles, and we tried to catch our breath.
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.
Stop! I can’t take any more. Shut off the television. Turn off the radio. Cancel the newspapers. Delete the apps on your phone. Pull Alexa’s plug. Close the blinds; lock all the doors. Got to bed. Pull the covers over your head.
Set the alarm for three years from now.
Sherri Bale is a retired geneticist, part-time personal trainer, Jack Russell Terrier mom, and writer of fiction as short as 50 words and as long as 90,000. Whatever it takes to tell the story.
If days in the previous year seem somber, maybe dismal, cut them up into interlocking parts and box them like a 365-piece puzzle. At start of the New Year, resolve to put them together, studying one bygone segment with each new day. You just might find delight in the details.
Judith wrote this. She resolves to smooth out the jagged parts of life’s puzzlements.
On a sweltering July afternoon, the hospital door whistles shut behind Sarah as she watches a little girl, carried by her father, lick a rainbow sprinkle off her chin, her cheeks rosy and full like Sarah’s own used to be before she started counting everything. This time will be different.
Lauren Vogel is a writer and artist whose work is featured in Nowhere Girl Collective and on her Substack, OwlPerson.
Red theater curtains pull open, dust shaking itself from the satin folds.
The speakers announce The Universe. Stars and galaxies spin. You’re in the front row, eyes reflecting all of that cold bright space. You lean forward, crying.
When the orchestra’s first notes hum through your sternum, you are weightless.
Jessica is an aspiring author of lyrical fantasy and fantastical romances. She shares her writing process and book reviews on Instagram @jess.reads.too.much.
He cries the whole way, wriggling against the straps of his car seat. I hold my breath. Steam rises as cold air hits warm water. Bare feet slap against wet concrete. He dips one tentative toe, then a whole foot. All the way under now, laughing and splashing. I exhale.
Rachel M. Hollis lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband, child, and a deeply unmotivated dog. Her work appears or is forthcoming in River Teeth’s Beautiful Things, Midway Journal, Lost Balloon, Gone Lawn, Necessary Fiction, and elsewhere.
I flew halfway around the world to get over a crush that I couldn’t shake loose.
Time + distance = healing.
I arrived in a different climate, tried new foods, and learned new words. I took in the history and the art… and still I want to tell it all to you.
Basil D. Cove is an artist and organizer based in North America. They have an abundance of love in their life.
The story of the week for December 22 to 26 is…
Shortcut on Christmas Eve by Bob Thurber
There is nothing left; it is already over by the time you get there. Linens and flowers crowd the already small space. The staff, already busy with another room, have left it all to decay.
On your way home, inside the cold bus, your thumb caresses a petal you stole.
Lucie Culerrier is a French writer based in New York, where you can find her behind her computer in small coffee shops of the East Village. She has recently finished writing her first novel and is now a bit unsure of what to do with her life.