Sidewalks have no desires
as do streets, no hidden agendas,
no future place they long
to go and see. Sidewalks are content
with being still and listening to the stories
that shoes and paws beat
into their skin day after day. Sidewalks
have no other place to be but here.
Arlene writes poetry, song lyrics, and flash fiction. She’s working hard on a romance poem about dead birds and their last confessions at present.
Things I’ve done for money: collected cans for cash, sold chocolate, shoveled sidewalks after a snowstorm. Once I built an amusement park in the backyard and sold tickets. That was the summer Mom quit chemo.
I told jokes for a penny. She bought a hundred, and listened from her bed.
Jane Hertenstein wrote this story.
I felt her shake me, but settled further into slumber.
I heard the shrill of the alarm, screeching like a siren.
I felt the fog grow thicker, although someone shouted, “Clear!”
I heard the paddles crackle, felt the jolt on my chest, but couldn’t wrestle weariness.
Just five minutes more…
Jo Withers sleeps with one eye open. Her middle-grade sci-fi adventure will be published in April 2018.
The story of the week for March 12 to 16 is…
Waiting by Candace Kubinec
The left arm was too long. Distracted, she’d miscounted the rows above the cuff.
He’d just grin and blame his shoulder. That permanent, lopsided shrug that gave his silhouette such beautiful asymmetry.
As she laid the neatly folded pullover on the grass, she noticed his headstone leaned the same way.
Tamsin is disappointed that she has never mastered knitting.
I was never so afraid
one night in winter,
when you were lost
you simply walked out
not saying a word.
Alzheimer’s Disease
the danger was real
where did you go?
I’ve worried so much.
To see you this way
it’s not fair,
surreal, unreal
you’re a whole different person.
Ana M. Torres (aka A.M. Torres) is the author of the Child Series beginning with Love Child which was first published in 2011. She has also published her poetry books Shadowed Tears, and Turmoil. She currently lives in New York with her two sons. See more at christmas1102.wixsite.com/mysite.
He swirled his spindly grey finger in the air before pointing randomly at the galactic charts.
“So where are we going for our vacation?” she asked, with bated breath.
He drew back his finger, revealing an isolated blue and green planet.
“Darn! Practice shot?” he asked.
“Practice shot,” she agreed.
Melanie Rees is an Australian author. She has published over 60 stories in markets such as Apex, Daily Science Fiction, Persistent Visions, and Aurealis. You can follow her on Twitter @FlexiRees or at flexirees.wordpress.com.
She smiles, legs dangling carelessly from the roof. Blue eyes reflect an array of glittering galaxies.
Twinkle twinkle
Another speckle dots the black.
little star.
Expanding rapidly.
How I wonder
Her eyes widen, stomach tightening.
what
Hands clasp ears over the meteoric roars
you
Sirens. A mother’s horrified scream.
are…
Fifteen-year-old Megan lives in Florida with her family and her cat named Luna Petra Zane. This is her first “plunge” into the realm of 50 word fiction.
Ted was tired of waiting. He was a man of little patience.
All her life he’d waited while she did her hair, looked for her other shoe, or changed her dress (again).
“Oh, Dad,” she’d scold.
Now he waits to walk her down the aisle. He’s willing to wait forever.
Candace Kubinec posts her stories at storydribbles.wordpress.com and her poetry at rhymeswithbug.com.
A merman wearing a seaweed waistcoat burst from the water and landed in our gondola, showering us with spray.
“Marry him, you idiot!” he yelled, then dived back into the canal.
Drenched and bewildered, Mary nodded weakly as I got down on one knee for the second time that day.
Mark Farley writes novels, flash fiction, and the occasional poem. Find him on twitter at @mumbletoes.