The Angel said that the date was in the message somewhere.
I read between the lines, rotated it, flipped it, rearranged characters… Nothing.
Well, there was always the simple approach. I read left to right and there it was when the skies darkened.
Should have tried the simple approach first.
Joey has never met an angel, at least none that he knows of. He’s probably met a few fiends though. You can visit him at joeytoey.com.
The story of the week for September 4 to 8 is…
Mutant by Boomer Trujillo
When he could only see UV light, he feared his distress call would be answered too late. When the vine replaced every blood vessel with xylem and phloem, he knew he would never be the same. But when his body flowered and the petals spoke, he deactivated the call himself.
boomer trujillo’s never turned into a plant, but he’s not sure he’s fully human either. Check out his fiction and philosophy at: boomert.info.
She touched the violin’s remaining strings. They quivered in fear. After so many decades in the cupboard, they’d forgotten how to sing.
Until now, the house had surrendered few clues to Uncle’s life before he fled Budapest.
The sudden grief floored her. She hadn’t even known he used to play.
Tamsin has started to ask her friends for 50-word commissions, and would like to thank Alison for the “musical instrument in the back of a cupboard” challenge.
When you called, I raced round to your flat like you knew I would.
Afterwards, we sat in the kitchen, drinking coffee and sharing a cigarette.
It’s so good to be back together I told you, but you shook your head; Mike must never find out about this you insisted.
David has moved on and now writes 50-word stories. He has most recently had work published in The Foliate Oak, Helios Quarterly, Gnu Magazine, The Machinery, Three Drops From the Cauldron, Summer Fling – Tales of Seduction, Short Tale 100, Blink-Ink, and 50-Word Stories.
The photographer captured it all: the bride’s tumble down the aisle, the flower girl bawling through the service, the cake collapsing at first cut. No one had wanted a slice, anyway, after the groom’s wet sneeze.
If only I had remembered to give the not-so-happy couple that horseshoe I brought.
Rachael is an English teacher in Scotland.
Mother Moon placed her howling baby into the calm water, a bath to sooth the tantrum.
Baby kicked with rage. The water rose up. Toy cities, filled with people, were buffeted about.
Small cars floated as roads became rivers, until the child wore itself out, falling asleep amid the ruins.
Candace Kubinec wrote this story with thoughts for Texas.
Editor: To support recovery from Hurricane Harvey, please consider donating through the Red Cross or another organization.
“When in Rome,” June said, having already bought the Total Gladiator Experience ticket.
Only when Jack entered the arena—its sand stained from previous shows—when lions roared behind gates, when he caught June on Husband Number Four’s arm, did he regret going too far in adopting the local customs.
Christina Dalcher writes stories, many of which have beginnings, middles, and ends, although not necessarily in that order. Find her work at (b)OINK, Whiskey Paper, The Molotov Cocktail, and lots of other places. Find Christina at christinadalcher.com or @CVDalcher, or hiding in a closet re-reading a tattered copy of The Shining.
The on-location taping of a reality TV program was interrupted when a nearby mountain peak exploded, spewing smoke, ash, and molten lava high in the air.
The program’s producer also blew his top—figuratively. An assistant asked the distraught man what was wrong.
“That bleeping volcano isn’t following the script!”
John H. Dromey was born in northeast Missouri, a long way from any active volcanoes, but growing up on a farm, he used to use Lava soap.
At twelve years old, she stood twelve feet tall. Her horns added another ten inches. The shaggy hair on her face and chest was thick and uncombed. Flies teased around her head like dark memories, darting in to nestle on her shoulders. She never allowed me to brush them away.
Mark Farley (mumbletoes.blogspot.com) writes novels, flash fiction and the occasional poem.