He asked for me by name, they said, this man with twitching eyes and an impatient stance.
Closing the distance, he seems to shrink. He nods as I introduce myself, his lips forming words that sink my heart. He hands me a nondescript envelope containing your desire to leave me.
Lancelot is a creative writer at heart who fears rejection, and therefore keeps his stories locked away in his mind.
A life of tangled legs in bed, like sleeping wrapped in spider webs.
First curled small against my mother,
Then later trapped beneath a lover.
Years of children’s legs cocooned, of cuddles, laughter, me and you.
Now as I lie in empty web, I dream of beds with spider legs.
Jo Withers wakes up in a tangle of kids and pets every morning and wouldn’t have it any other way. Once she’s freed herself she writes poetry, short stories and children’s sci-fi adventures. You can follow Jo on Twitter.
The story of the week for May 28 to June 1 is…
Camino by Rosemary Boyd
We walked and walked and walked some more. Past the poppies. Past the ancient crosses. Past the villages. Past the fresh bocadillos hanging on door knobs. Past the laundry hanging from balconies. Past the cows and goats. Past the fountains. Past the others. Past the ghosts of those before us.
Rosemary Boyd wrote this story.
I look into his unblinking eyes, staring intensely at me.
I shudder with fear, for I know my time is nigh.
He beckons me forth, wiggling a white-gloved finger.
It is time. I can delay no longer.
I must get my picture taken with Santa, or Mom will kill me.
Numbers swirled in his mind, forming equations, axioms, proofs. The logic of the argument led him to certainty, to a ‘Eureka’ moment of perfect, shining clarity. Absolute, mathematically verifiable truth lay before him and now there could be no doubt: chocolate really was the greatest of the ice cream flavours!
Bill lives in Aberdeen, Scotland where his experiments in time travel have created an inescapable temporal loop. Bill lives in Aberdeen, Scotland where his experiments in time travel have created an inescapable temporal loop. Bill lives in Aberdeen, Scotland…
Pete woke up alone and he was not there.
He smelled the roots of trees; he heard the worms whisper; his foot walked away without him; he sank into the sky; his inside was outside; he saw the sun shine through his navel.
Pete had stars at head and foot.
Paul Negri has twice won the Gold Medal for fiction in the William Faulkner-William Wisdom Writing Competition. His work has appeared in Vestal Review, The Penn Review, Pif Magazine, Jellyfish Review and other publications. He lives and writes in Clifton, New Jersey.
He closed the door behind him and looked over the room. A melancholic expression was drawn across his face.
It was curious how ordinary things had acquired very special meanings while they were together.
She was gone, but everything else stayed the same, a cruel reminder of their broken story.
José Jaime is from Spain and is studying at university.
Lieutenant Harold Demarest stands on the bridge, watching a kamikaze roar towards him.
Below, Gunner Frank McClelland fires the 40mm cannon and hits the suicide plane.
It veers downward, exploding into the ship.
Demarest is alive, a flimsy clipboard shielding his head. Below, Frank McClelland and seventeen others are dead.
Frank McClelland was awarded the Silver Star Posthumously. Harry
Demarest wrote this story about his father, Harold Demarest, who attended
many reunions with his shipmates until his death at age 96.
Fifty-word stories? Sounds easy, but HA! Challenge embraced; let the jotting and counting begin.
“Not tonight dear. One… too busy… two, three.”
Cloud of perpetual distraction.
“Sorry, what were you saying? Didn’t catch that. I was—”
“Yeah. I know,” he mumbles. “Counting. Scribbling.”
Relationship ends, but hey! Fifty words!
Judi MacKenzie is a writer who teaches yoga and, sometimes, meticulously counts words. She loves writing screenplays and is a reader for the Austin Film Festival.