When the radiation cleared, they were ready.
When they ventured, blinking, out onto the surface, they were overwhelmed, but they were ready.
When they followed the maps, found the seed vault intact, they were ready.
When a fat mouse ran across the littered cement floor – no one was ready.
Sarah Krenicki likes writing short fiction about large things.
The story of the week for July 10 to 14 is…
Ham for Tobacco by Henry F. Tonn
Without arms, he could not eat. So he sat, shirtless, against subway concrete. But then the girl came, and she fed him good rice and feasted upon his stories. Afterwards, she thanked him. Baffled, he asked her why. “Because,” she said, “now we are both more than we were before.”
Diane Callahan is a freelance developmental editor and writer of fantasy and speculative fiction. Her YouTube channel, Quotidian Writer, is dedicated to providing practical tips for aspiring writers as well as encouraging discussion about the literary arts.
I dreamed we were still in my kitchen, laughing
at the dog, who kept trotting to the door, then not
going out, lest he miss a single scrap
of whatever we might offer.
When I woke, the dog comforted me.
It was you inside the door, poised
to go through.
Jennifer L Freed has a friend whose tumors keep outrunning the chemo. Her website is jfreed.weebly.com.
As I rounded the corner, he shot out. Nearly the size of a small dog, running like he was headed for the border.
Terrified, I screamed and ran the other way.
Armed and determined, I returned, roach spray in one hand, shoe in the other.
He never stood a chance.
Susan is a Curriculum Developer at a mortgage company. She is widowed with two grown daughters and two stepsons, and four awesome grandchildren: two boys and two girls.
Only dish-washing was available but he needed the summer job. He wanted to meet her.
So what if she was on exchange too? Or that she might think him a nobody?
A lifetime together was worth that summer of dishes, even if she wanted him to always be their dishwasher.
Joey doesn’t mind washing the dishes as long as she recognizes his cooking as a sign of affection rather than treating it as convenient “free food”. Either way, you can visit him at joeytoey.com.
“Hey! Stick your head out, Yank. Need some target practice.”
“How ’bout this, Reb?”
“What’s that?”
“Ham.”
“Dang! You got ham?”
“Reckon. Whatchew got?”
“Tobacco.”
“Meetcha middle the creek.”
“Hold your fire! Ham for tobacco!”
“‘Preciate it, Reb. Been dyin’ for a smoke.”
“Yup. How’s Mama?”
“Sends you her love.”
Henry F. Tonn is a semi-retired psychologist who has written a sterling novel entitled “Ascent to Madness, Zelda Fitzgerald’s Gilded Cage” which is is having a great deal of difficulty finding a home in the publishing world.
Life can be excruciating. Death can be a welcome release.
A light of comforting and joyous brilliance pulled him on, yet when he heard her call his name he stopped, and decided he must return to try again.
He didn’t know there was a reception committee (and they had cookies).
From a darkened room in Madison, Wisconsin, Bill writes about reanimated mummies, intelligent golems, and all things that frighten him in the hopes that someday they might not.
The Story of the Month is chosen from the Story of the Week winners announced from the past month.
The finalists for June were:
Ice by Shawnta S. Barnes
Isn’t She Lovely? by Susan Lozano
Heirloom Gardening by Candace Kubinec
Table Manners by Christina Dalcher
The winner of the June 2017 Story of the Month, and the $10 prize, is…
Table Manners
Christina’s unique way of presenting the story does a great job of getting the reader into the main character’s perspective, subtly masking the story’s complexity.
“I’ll take her around,” volunteered little Jayati, wheeling the spastic Anna out. Ten years separated the two.
“She, too, yearns for your love,” commented my wife.
At bed time, I explained why Anna needed more care. “She’s a ‘special’ child,” I said.
“I also want to be ‘special’,” Jayati replied.
Vijai Pant is a language teacher in a school in India. He is also a freelance writer.