On my last day I prepared a fabulous dessert, as my ex sat in the restaurant, his bottled blonde nibbling at lettuce with perfect lips. Whipped cream, crushed toffee, smoothest ice cream, and tiny crystals of sugar-like glass frosting. Irresistible!
As they say, revenge is a dish best served cold.
Viv Burgess suggests you do not try this at home.
The Royal Ballroom was not accustomed to motorbikes careening through its windows, but the helmeted man had a message.
A red triangle on the seal told the King all he needed.
“A storm nears,” he said. “We must ready.”
“Hang on,” said the biker. “Is this not 93 Privet Drive?”
Ben Reynolds quit his job to be a writer. What an idiot. Find more at justpunchtheclock.com.
After dreaming of living as a millionaire playboy, I wake up on a lumpy futon in a crummy apartment, alone.
Half-asleep, I nod off only to reawaken cold and weary in an alley on skid row. I’m still tired, but refuse to sleep, afraid of where I’d wake up next.
Pontius Paiva is a dreamer. It’s because he spends most of the day sleeping. Wake him up at pontiuspaiva.com.
Today I notice the guy on the subway rising, in a swoop, and offering me his seat; the old man in the tattered coat and saggy skin waiting patiently for everyone to be seated before dinner begins; the teenaged cashier smiling.
Glimpses of goodness that I desperately need to see.
Gina Elle is a novice at flash fiction writing and is now a huge fan.
The story of the week for February 6 to 10 is…
Over by Joan Trueman
Subtlety and understatement are great techniques, and Joan used that approach here with an excellent example of “show, don’t tell.”
He watched her leave; quietly, impassively, resolutely.
She closed the car door and sighed.
She glanced over her shoulder, then glided into the traffic.
She didn’t look back.
He watched the car disappear round the corner, retreated inside, and gently pulled the door.
This is the way the world ends.
Joan is an educator in Australia.
From the very start the bear’s life had been miserable and brutal. Locked away in the dark for weeks without food and water. Brought out in public only to be beaten.
But now his torment was at an end.
He was taken to the charity shop with the other toys.
This is John’s very first attempt at a 50-word story. When he was teaching English last year in Lithuania, the 50-word story came up in a study book. He asked his students to try (with varying degrees of success), and to encourage them he wrote this one. He is not a writer of any sort but is attempting his first novel, based on his experiences in Lithuania. He is now back in the UK, living in Scotland and working as a Tour Guide.
It’s Friday. I’m meeting the love of my life, the one and only. It’s 9:50 PM, almost 10. All is prepared. I’ve waited for so long.
Suddenly the bell rings. I’m nervous but I open the door.
“So beautiful!” I think. It’s there looking at me.
Pizza, I love you.
Berta Torras Febrer and Génesis Chamaidan Panchana are students of an English Academy in Barcelona, Catalunya. They are both 16 years old and they study at Sant Miquel dels Sants High school. They are into music and want to become singers. This is their first 50-word story.
The Story of the Month is chosen from the Story of the Week winners announced from the past month.
The finalists for January were:
If… by Kamalinii
2:00 am by L.S. Engler
Vampire by Alexandra Keister
Fake Smiles by Carmen Olowu
Arte Verborum by Ingrid Jendrzejewski
The winner of the January 2017 Story of the Month, and the $10 prize, is…
Arte Verborum
From the very first phrase, we’re hooked into this story, drawn into the idea of an “enchanted” book. Then we discover the nature of the enchantment, and it’s such a joyful thought, perfectly crafted for the community of readers and writers that frequents this site.
Today I slaughtered my other self in the mirror. I felt his pain as my own.
One of us was laughing, while the other was crying.
Stealing the light that enriched his eager eyes left me alone in darkness.
I don’t know which side of the glass I was on.
P.A.’s love for the fantasy genre started as a child. He connected his modem to another computer or Bulletin Board Service (BBS) to play a text-based fantasy game called MajorMUD. Along with reading Robert Asprin and painting D&D miniatures, his childhood was spent trading reality for the magical places inside his head. Now he’s put one of those places on the page. See more on his website.