You’re feeling down
And a little lonely too
I have come around
To be close to you
Hold on, I am here
Hold on, cry those tears
Soon you will see
As we join hands
We’ll do this, you and me
You’ll smile and understand
Hold on, dry those tears
Mary has written poetry since age ten and continues to do so. She is also writing short stories and enjoys being a member of a writing group.
Release the dictionary eaten whole, the bird swallowing a fish, in case it chokes you. Escape the mind fog. Unburden your broken back.
Let the old words butterfly your face, your hands, colour you gold, purple, red and blue.
Let them undo your reinvention: unearth the person you’ve always been.
Alison Woodhouse writes short and long fiction, has work forthcoming in Ellipsis 3 and Leicester Writes Anthology, has been short- and long-listed in various competitions, and has won Adhoc and matter magazine competitions.
As the gates of Hell locked behind him he felt he had one more chance.
He’d lost his job, house, family, and now his soul. Unperturbed, he strode towards Satan and his entourage.
He only needed to think of one more thing to gamble with to make it all disappear.
Connell doesn’t need to gamble, as putting pen to paper is risky enough. He never knows where the words might take him.
The story of the week for June 4 to 8 is…
Spider Legs by Jo Withers
Lingering between sleep and wakefulness, she savours that moment when light starts to pierce her eyelids, before reality dawns.
The drapes, stirred by the breeze, create flickers of light and then shadow.
She listens, hearing only her own gentle, rhythmic breathing.
Disruption, when it comes, is sudden, loud, cruel: MUM!!!
Jean enjoys writing short stories now that the birds have flown and she has more time. She would welcome a return of the disruption, though!
Big Gerald wanted to show Little Jerry that there were no monsters, so he locked his son in the basement.
An hour later, Gerald let Little Jerry out. “See? No monsters.”
“I’m sorry, Daddy, there is a monster. It’s very hungry!” Little Jerry sobbed. “I told it you were bigger.”
Harry Demarest wrote this story. The first draft was 1836 words.
Achilles removed his armor.
His servant announced, “The soldiers wish to celebrate your victory over Hector. I’ll re-attach your anklet.”
He waved him away. “I don’t need it just to drag a body before the gates of Troy.”
Achilles taunted the Trojans, then felt the deadly bite of Paris’ arrow.
Bill Diamond is a writer in Evergreen, Colorado, whose initial work has appeared in The MacGuffin, Eastern Iowa Review and Windmill and other publications. See more at bdiamondwriting.com.
It’s where his best stories arrived without fail, in the shower with warm water running down his back.
Later, pencil sharp, notebook open, squeaky clean, he’d chew on the pink eraser and try to remember. The muse just laughed.
That’s how he learned the best stories never make the page.
Guy’s work has appeared in 43 literary journals including Carve, dacunha, and Exposition Review, where twice, he was a flash 405 winner. Third Wednesday ran his story, The Most Shoplifted Poet, as both flash fiction and poem of the week. Guy teaches low-fat fiction, lives on a houseboat, and walks the planks daily. He prefers to write on ATM slips with low balances while waiting for traffic lights to change.
He’d learned that there was no Santa Claus early on, precociously reading gift labels marked “from Santa” on packages Grandma had brought in from her ancient Buick.
Now the same sick feeling emerged as he witnessed a magnificent bald eagle, prince of the skies, dining crow-like, shameless, on roadside carrion.
Phil Huffy writes at a Cheerio-stained kitchen table in Rochester, New York.
A sunny evening drying
plates at the kitchen window.
I see her rambling
from the shed to the door.
Little lives
moving inside her.
I will watch her. Time her
offspring
and make them disappear.
Soon dismissed.
Soon quenched
like a temporary thirst.
But by which one of us first?
Patrick Mc Loughlin is an English Language Teacher in Ireland and dabbles in writing. He also dabbles in painting and music and someday hopes to do more than dabble. He lives in the west of Ireland where it’s hard to concentrate.