As she was leaving the office, she bade her coworkers farewell. “The end of days is coming at 12:27,” she reminded them, “and I’m stepping outside to witness the glory. I pray that one day we’ll meet again in a better place.”
Everyone was tactful when she returned at 1:00.
Alex believes that one person’s truth is another’s heresy.
“Choklat,” he demanded, his eyes glistening.
She was buying him ice cream. Again. Because she adored the way his little tongue twisted into the cone, chasing down the last oozing dregs.
And because, when he gleefully wiped his sticky fingers across his cardigan, she knew her suppressed resentment was justified.
Tamsin can currently be found poking writing with a stick, and then running away scared.
A #2 pencil.
Tiny, nervous teeth marks on six sides, identical, yellow paint flaking: sharpen it after forty years, write poems until the marks bite into your fingers, until the pencil nubs, vanishes.
Hold high the words. Declare a miracle: Look! Look what is written by the hand of God!
Larry D. Thacker’s poetry can be found in more than eighty publications including The Still Journal, Poetry South, Mad River Review, The Southern Poetry Anthology, Mojave River Review, Mannequin Haus, Ghost City Press, Jazz Cigarette, and Appalachian Heritage. His books include Mountain Mysteries: The Mystic Traditions of Appalachia and the poetry books Voice Hunting and Memory Train, as well as the forthcoming Drifting in Awe. He’s presently working on his MFA in both poetry and fiction. Visit his website at larrydthacker.com.
We speak in code. Fake smiles
accentuate our encryption
as we avoid truthful confessions.
Lips spread wide
over camouflaged terms
as tongues stutter and tangle
without grace.
The look in your eyes forces me into
deeper deciphering.
We calculate our positions and
plot our next move.
We speak in code.
Arlene is a novice writer who enjoys writing flash fiction and poetry.
I only married her to get citizenship, paid 15 grand and thought that was it. Then I couldn’t forget her.
She once asked me if I liked blondes or brunettes and I said, “Any colour, as long as she smiles like you.”
Five years later we got married for real.
Connell writes again.
The Story of the Month is chosen from the Story of the Week winners announced from the past month.
The finalists for February were:
Welcome by Angela Brett
The Bells by Hannah Froggatt
Oneiric by Pntius Paiva
Over by Joan Trueman
Trapped by Mark Farley
The winner of the February 2017 Story of the Month, and the $10 prize, is…
Over
Joan mentioned in a comment that she was attempting to demonstrate the writing principle of “show, don’t tell.” I’d say she succeeded!
The story of the week for February 27 to March 3 is…
Constellations by Jonathan Kosik
This was one of the strongest weeks of stories I’ve ever had the privilege of publishing on the site, and Jonathan’s story capped it off with a brilliant cocktail of emotions and art. Wow.
I spin with my daughter in the front yard. Stars cut the night. Together we get dizzy. She sinks to her knees and giggles. She orders me: “Faster! Faster!” I turn round and round. Arms out. Head back.
Selling the car gives us another month in the house. Spinning. Spinning.
Jonathan Kosik takes photos of fast cars and lives with his wife and daughter just outside Nashville, Tennessee. See more at jonathankosik.com.
For years, rumors had swirled about the old mansion on the hilltop:
“It’s haunted.”
“No one ever comes out alive.”
Jessica ascended the stairs to her luxurious master suite. Yes, her dream home had been a real bargain. A steal, almost.
And she never trusted a rumor… Especially her own.
When she’s not busy spreading rumors, Susan Gale Wickes likes to write (and read) short stories.
“I dare you.” Three words and you could make me do anything.
“I’m not afraid.”
Inside, shouting, our voices echo. Brothers, best pals in the world.
A noise spooks us; running home.
We stop and you laugh.
You’ve lost that cap you always wore. I’m not going back for it.
Fraser never did get his hat back, but it looked stupid anyway. Sometimes David wishes they were still best pals in all the world.