Karen never told her fans what her stories were about; their interpretations were more interesting.
Some saw the salvation of sex. Others a search for God. One reader in Australia insisted Karen was a psychic channeling his own unrequited longings.
Karen knew they were really about her best friend’s husband.
Robb Lanum is a failed screenwriter in Los Angeles. Some of his longer-form, epic works have appeared on 101words.org.
On gravitational waves, the primal gods sailed through the interstellar gulf. Their destination: a blue-green world where once they’d lived as kings, exalted by the apes they had uplifted. Memories of Atlantis, Giza and Nazca filled their minds.
The Masters of Earth were returning; let the children submit once more.
Bill lives in Aberdeen, Scotland. He spends his spare time working on his time machine, determined to fulfil his ambition of one day becoming his own father. His mother is adamant that it’s not going to happen. Family meals are currently quite awkward. See more at northeastnotesblog.wordpress.com.
Seventy Facebook notifications. A quiet night.
Cervical smear scandal, presidential election, granny grant: Sasha sits in bed, checks the ‘likes’, scrolls through the comments. Trolls out in force.
Putting on her helmet, she types like her life depends on it.
A wail.
“Shush! Not now!”
Switches off the baby monitor.
You can connect with Geraldine at facebook.com/cruthaitheacht.
The child always held It.
It had big eyes, long teeth, and a tail. To most, It was a monster.
But It was soft. And It never ran away, keeping her warm through cold nights.
As she grew, the nights became colder, longer. And she held It to the end.
Joey doesn’t collect plushies although he doesn’t mind them either, as long as it’s not a bear. Because bear plushies are lame. See more at joeytoey.com.
When your name was
bantered about our kitchen table,
I was too young to understand.
Now you are back
like a ghost from Salem,
mocking the innocent,
burning them at the stake
in the halls of power.
I’m old now, but understand.
Wake up Joseph McCarthy,
you will lose again.
Matthew lives in Maine.
Pulling barbed wire buried in the scrub,
it lightly flicked and nicked the skin.
Found the blueish pulse. Drew the brightest reds.
The colour and size of ladybirds.
And wiping in afterthought onto shirt cloth,
It darkened the sleeve while I carried on.
Alive for a moment, slowly becoming dirt.
Patrick Mc Loughlin is an English Language Teacher in Ireland and dabbles in writing. He also dabbles in painting and music and some day hopes to do more than dabble. He lives in the west of Ireland where it’s hard to concentrate.
“I should’ve had more daughters,” said Melinda’s mother, pouring lemonade poolside. “You never tell me anything.”
Melinda inhaled slowly. “My novel got an… award.”
“With how much money?”
“No money. A certificate.”
The mother smirked, shielding her eyes from the sun. “How sad is that.”
Melinda lowered her hat brim.
Shoshauna Shy’s flash has been published by 100 Word Story, Brilliant Flash Fiction, Fiction Southeast, and other online journals.
We were hugging in her kitchen beside her new stove and refrigerator
and I could see down the hall to the dining room
and beyond to the den where her blind husband was sitting in an electric powered recliner,
a contraption like something NASA produces for space missions to Mars.
Bob Thurber is the author of “Paperboy: A Dysfunctional Novel” and two collections of stories. A celebrated master of Flash and Micro Fiction, his work has appeared in 60 anthologies, received dozens of awards, and been used in schools and colleges throughout the world. He resides in Massachusetts where, despite severe vision loss, he continues to write every day. Visit his website at BobThurber.net.
Unspeakable darkness, slowly illuminating into an alley with dipping gutters. Tenement houses, three mismatched shoes on each doorstep. Girls hawk their wares, calling out over the cobblestones, flirtatious, looking for customers.
God is forever hiding somewhere among the gargoyles.
I fall in love a lot, always with the same woman.
Jim Doss has published two books of poems: Learning to Talk Again and What Remains. He also published a book of German translations entitled The Last Gold of Expired Stars: The Complete Poems of Georg Trakl 1908 – 1914. In his spare time, he is an editor for the Loch Raven Review.
The story of the week for August 27 to 31 is…
Face by David Holloway