According to Wikipedia, werewolves possess an excellent sense of smell, which enables them to locate and pursue their victims. If they can’t smell me, then I’ll be safe.
As the howls grew closer, Jerry climbed inside the plastic storage container and sealed the lid, feeling quite proud of his plan.
In addition to writing, Sarah K Krenicki enjoys warm socks, soft blankets, and hot cocoa.
The smell slaps me back to the business at hand as I avoid the onslaught of memories that serve no purpose. She left me her cashmere sweater, reeking of mothballs. I sneeze, entrapped by envious eyes.
“Why me?”
“You were her favorite.”
“Favorite?”
“You were always so easy to torture.”
Kim Kalama is a latecomer to fiction writing. She draws upon the quirkiest dynamics of her life experiences to stir her imagination.
The story of the week for December 4 to 8 is…
New Beginnings by Joey To
Jack stretched. The flight was long but worth it. This was a new beginning.
Immigration took a long look but there were no problems.
Jack strode away, a bounce in his step. But something was missing…
“…report to unclaimed baggage…”
Jack sighed. And he’d been hoping to leave that behind.
Joey doesn’t trust anyone who acts like they don’t have any baggage. He can be found at joeytoey.com.
At the wedding reception, Mother admired her new daughter-in-law who wore hijab and long sleeves in the hot Texas sun. Never a guarantee. Still, this relationship seemed solid.
“Religious differences aside, she’s family now. No one will bother her!” Mother rested her hand on the concealed weapon under her blouse.
T.J. Barnum has been writing after work for a number of years, but has started submitting only recently. Barnum’s short memoir piece entitled “Daddy Jim Teaches Me To Shoot” will appear in The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature in April, 2018.
The dismembered gingerbread house invades our house every year, and oh how I dread its arrival.
Pieces requiring assembly, that do not ever stay where they are supposed to stay, no matter how much icing is applied.
Now there is a Haunted House and an Easter Cottage.
Oh, the humanity!
Michelle is a contributing author in the most recent Chicken Soup for the Soul: The Spirit of Canada. Her writing has won several awards, and appeared in The Globe and Mail and a number of local magazines and newspapers in Alliston and Barrie. She has a monthly series in the Focus 50 + Newspaper based on her short story “Lightning Strikers.” You can find her online at michelledinnick.com.
It’s always the same, every single time.
A dark ominous shape follows me through endless hallways.
I go left, it’s there; I go right, it’s there.
I go faster, it gets closer.
Finally I’m cornered. It reaches out and…
I wake up, still on death row, waiting to be executed.
Kevin P. Michaels lives in Las Vegas, Nevada, where he works by day and writes at night, honing his skills to become a better writer.
My earliest memory of using scissors was to mail in a coupon for a baking soda-powered submarine. The dotted lines looked easy, but it took me half the day. I clipped and clipped until each edge hugged the dots perfectly.
Now that I think of it, my psychiatrist is right.
Ronald Guell wrote this story.
“Wow! You’re one tough little lady.”
“I’m a black belt. And I’m not 16. I’m 22.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll drive you home, and we’ll just forget this ever happened. Nobody’d believe you anyway. I’m a powerful man in this community.”
“Not anymore. I’m a cop, and I’m wearing a wire.”
A long time ago, Alex married an 18-year-old.
The last notes of the organ fade away.
In the old church, shadows dance in the candleglow, echoes of people from times gone by, coming back to me. I feel their presence.
The living drive away the dead as their grandchildren and great grandchildren dispel the moment.
Merry Christmas, Grandma!
Jean lives in Bath in the UK. She likes to use some of her own experiences in her story telling. Merry Christmas!