Sunshine after a murky morning,
Dark rings telling tales
Of pain
Screams from behind tired eyes
That once danced with life
And still briefly glinted
When he saw her
He peered into the glass and blinked
The birth of a tear
Gravity carving a salty track to the cheek’s edge
Jon is a frustrated storyteller from the North West of England, currently working in Local Government but with a background in Newspaper Journalism.
The story of the week for April 23 to 27 is…
Animal Control by Uzair Shahed Islam
The librarian read with vitality. She glanced at her audience of preschoolers and noticed wide-eyed horror. Confused, the librarian continued to read her best.
She startled as scaly fingers covered her own. The monster crawled out the book and purred against her.
She kept reading as long as she could.
Tyrean Martinson (pronounced T + Irene) is a writer, daydreamer, teacher, student, and believer from the rainy side of Washington state. She writes fiction, non-fiction, poetry, and eclectic journal entries. She prefers speculative fiction, but now and then she writes contemporary or historical. She winces when writing kissing scenes, but has no problem writing sword fighting scenes. She believes “write what you know” includes “write what you can imagine.” She has fiction and non-fiction books found all places e-books are sold and she can be found online at tyreanswritingspot.blogspot.com.
Those deep pockets. Filled with safety pins and busy hands. Was Grandmother’s world going to fall apart and it would be up to her to pin it back together?
A safety pin pinched between those closed lips. To keep her from saying that one thing she wasn’t supposed to say?
Julie Eger is a massage therapist who writes fiction and poetry in her spare time. Her work has appeared in various anthologies including Anchala Studio’s The Collection: Flash Fiction for Flash Memories and Inner Circle Writers’ Group FlashPoint Anthology 2018 as well as other online journals.
It was the worst haircut of her life.
Tears welled in her tired eyes. It was patchy and asymmetrical with long, dark curls sprouting at her left temple.
The stylist shrugged apologetically.
Tears escaped. “I love it,” she grinned.
Her first style since brain surgery framed her face with hope.
Jo Withers is becoming addicted to writing 50 Word Stories. She also has a middle-grade, science-fiction novel out this month.
Some wild-eyed vagrant bursts into a studio and tells a young artist about the evil he’s done and his years on the run. He hands the artist a pistol.
The artist listens attentively before recognising the vagrant’s eyes as his.
Terror… Then resignation follows as he slowly squeezes the trigger.
One of Connell’s many dilemmas is whether to write a bit or not before going to bed. When he writes, he’s sleepy the next day, and when he doesn’t, the ideas slip away.
“Rats running rampant!” remarks Rachel’s red-headed roommate, Rose.
“Repulsive!” Rachel responds, remembering recent requests regarding rat removal.
“Realistically, rundown rentals’re routinely risky,” replies Rose. “Rodents return repeatedly.”
Rachel rebels, ruining ritzy relative’s rental. Regardless, relative responds requesting Rachel restore Roaring River Ranch Resort.
Realizing rambunctious raccoons reside, Rose runs, relocating.
Lisa Miller wrote this story.
He wondered, first, why it hadn’t died.
Grey fur, scarce, in patches. Full of fleas, and two tender red eyes. Worms. Some bones broken, limbs bent.
Loaded the gun. Shot it. “Rest, now.”
But when it raised its head again, he realized:
Perhaps it was never alive to begin with.
Uzair Shahed Islam is an economics and mathematics student at the Lahore University of Management Sciences who writes fiction and non-fiction in his spare time.
“You are your Momma’s sweetest girl,” Janeen cooed as she changed her baby’s diaper and pulled a soft yellow onesie over the child’s shoulders.
“It’s time for your lunch, Momma,” Nancy said, helping Janeen to her feet and gently placing her gnarled hands on the walker.
“Don’t forget your babydoll.”
Traci Mullins has more than three decades of experience in coaching, editing, and collaborating on hundreds of non-fiction books. She is currently working on unearthing the girl who used to love stories.
I couldn’t take it any longer. The subtle shaking of the head, the constant belittling, the never-ending criticisms.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” he squawked.
“Give me a break.”
“You’re useless.”
Truth is, I was the one to blame.
I put the cover over his cage.
Peace at last…
Susan Gale Wickes is from Indiana. She enjoys writing poetry and short stories.