Of unknown origin, the Strangers became our saviors. War, famine, plague—ended. Progress happened swiftly, and society flourished.
No one noticed the changes right away; they came slowly, like a creeping fog. Four hundred years made us complacent.
By the time we realized they were gone, it was too late.
Sean Fox is a New England native living in California. He holds a B.A. in English from Western Connecticut State University. When he writes, people tend to die.
Nobody’s gonna count down to midnight with more zeal than me.
In this, my “Year of Yes”, I’ve:
Next up: my Year of NO.
Mary Steer only has her ears pierced. She will be ringing in 2018 with a long story, “The Yarnabomber”, appearing in The Ocotillo Review. It will be available for purchase by mid-January at kallistogaiapress.org. You can read more of Mary’s work at marysteer.com.
“It’s good to see you.”
It wasn’t.
“I hoped we could talk.”
Wished we didn’t have to.
“It’s been too long.”
Not long enough.
Leaning against the air-hockey table, shoes white against the slushy stain, she replies:
“It’s been two days, Tyler. And I only came to get my backpack.”
Kerry teaches English with the comfortable assuredness that he is almost often not wrong about it.
“You excited?” He smiled.
She nodded.
Her heart raced.
Thump-thump.
The doctor squeezed out the cold, clear goo.
She felt the wand wiggle around.
His smile hollowed.
She waited for the sound.
Another doctor came.
Thump-thump.
Minutes ticked by.
And by.
And by.
But the second heartbeat couldn’t be found.
Juliann Morris is an avid reader, writer, and tiny house dweller graduating from the University of Hawaii at Hilo this semester with a double Bachelor’s degree in English and Communication and a Creative Writing Certificate. She writes both fiction and nonfiction and bases most of her stories on her life experiences.
In the night I am worthless. I dissolve as the darkness presses down onto me. I curl into the toxic embrace of the silent emptiness within and without.
The baby feeds on, needy and warming. A tiny golden thread of love connects us, draws me back up to the light.
Rebecca Williams loves the darker side of fiction and is currently working on a novel about two housewives on a vigilante crime spree. She also dabbles in flash and shorter fiction – you can find her work in EllipsisZine, Spelk, The Cabinet of Heed, Retreat West and more. She can be found on Twitter at @stupidgirl45.
Endless pots of coffee drunk. Countless pages gorged upon, regurgitated, wept over. Knowledge tested and realized. Credits accumulated. She reached the end of the text only to find a perplexing blank page.
They call her name. The tassel dangling from the mortarboard throws her off-balance as she traverses the stage.
Kara Johnson-Martinez is a freelance writer and novelist based in Colorado. For a preview of her fiction visit kararochelle.com.
With ketchup trickling from her broad grin, his daughter looks like a cheerful, diminutive vampire.
The food is too fast, the street is too crowded, the fireworks are too loud. She is loving every single minute, and her mother will be furious.
Both of these things give him deep satisfaction.
Tamsin wishes she wasn’t too cowardly for fireworks and broad grins.
Lydia dropped off Hannah at her dad’s place, a rocky walk from home. She enjoyed the trek. They both did. The bubble helmet radios picked up every single word. Every breath floated into mother’s and daughter’s ears.
It was intimate, unlike with her ex-husband, the only other human on Titan.
Caleb resides in Arkansas where he plays beach volleyball.
The story of the week for December 18 to 22 is…
The Cruelest Part by Dave Novak
When Mrs Brain’s dog bit off her thumb, the whole village soon heard about it.
As the rumours spread, the thumb became all five fingers, which in turn became her hand.
In this way, the village devoured more of Mrs Brain than Lucky had ever done, or hoped to do.
Alanna writes short stories and flash fiction and works in publishing in Oxfordshire. She can be found on Twitter at @alannamadeleine.