It has a tart rhubarb base for the pucker
and a sweet, red kiss of strawberry that brings me back
for the next bite.
It’s more Oscar Wilde than Marcel Proust, though I confess to having read neither—
I just know it when I
taste it.
Mustn’t forget the milk!
Stephen Tilden is retired in Brooklyn and enjoys writing while something is in the oven.
Our bodies melded together as we danced real slow. His hands were warm and laced with mine. The music was low on the radio—it was our song. We were a party of two in the kitchen, swaying to the beat. Kissing. Laughing. Burning the tater tots in the oven.
Brenda Lee Carlson is a writer from Minnesota. She has an MA in English and an MFA in Creative Writing. She has published poetry, flash fiction, short stories, and fifty-word stories, including two on FiftyWordStories.com. When she is not writing, she reads or tries to please her diva cat.
I crash back onto Earth, a speck of stardust amidst the enormity of the galaxy. I was once “human,” living in tumultuous ignorance with no memories and a fake identity.
I only have one day.
How am I going to convince them that this place isn’t home?
It’s a prison.
Katie lives on a farm in the Pine Barrens of New Jersey and loves to play her flute, collect rocks, and spend time with her family, friends, and many animals. Lately, she’s been having fun exploring the creative side of writing.
“Wanna dip out early?”
I follow my coworker to the rooftop. Yesterday, we watched our CEO turn zombie. He seems happier eating brains, not just frying them. The corporate horde looks mostly the same, though better rested.
We jump, and I head home to my wife. Surely she’ll recognize me.
Carina Wahlstrom spends most of her time in front of a computer, so she decided she might as well do something productive.
“The world’s a boring place,” my ageing father frequently says.
He’s wrong. It’s still full of mystery and wonder, if you just look. “You should read the papers more,” I suggest. “Today scientists found some dinosaur tracks in Mongolia.”
“Nothing exciting about more fossils,” he harrumphs.
“These are fresh prints.”
Michael is an Australian-based writer whose work has appeared in several anthologies and online magazines, but not yet in the geological record.
The story of the week for June 2 to 6 is…
Queue by Tomiko Nanashi
Lady, to merit thy love, I coaxed a golden tear from King Midas’s eye, which I bartered for a mermaid’s song.
I used her voice to lull a Dragon while I snatched his diamond tooth.
This, I present to you, peerless Lady, and humbly pray on bended knee, wilt thou—
Joanna Norland has learned through painful experience always to check the word count and trim where possible.
The one next to yours says Lilly. It’s fitting that yours has gumnut trees embossed and hers has ladybird engravings. I like to think somewhere you are together, talking, growing up. It’s been so long I’ve forgotten your actual birthday. I’m guilty, embarrassed, but I still do think of you.
Meredith McLean is an Australian writer now living in Japan. She has been published in magazines such as Aniko Press, Sojournal and Denizen’s Digest. You can follow her on Instagram at @here.with.meredith
“This your boss?”
She sobbed for the benefit of the police, hands itching to clean the blood around the coffeepot.
“No. He just thought he was.”
Making her fetch coffee, as though that were her job. She frowned at the leaking corpse making the mess on the carpet worse. Typical.
Joanne Merriam lives in Nova Scotia. Her writing has appeared in dozens of periodicals including Baltimore Review, Pictura, and Under the Basho. She owns Upper Rubber Boot Books, known for the first English-language anthology of solarpunk, Sunvault. You can find her at joannemerriam.com.
He was tired of setting world records. Everyday for eight years, thousands of world records. For walking a mile, for riding a bike, for waking up in the morning, another world record. He had the world record for the most world records.
Then the oldest human to ever live
died.
Robert Ludemann is happily retired and dodging as much responsibility as possible.