“Come with us,” they said. Eventually, he went with them.
The world’s media had long been alight. It’s not every day undecipherable symbols appear on the Moon.
His crime? Fishing on the river while everyone was panicking.
That, and being the only being on Earth able to read the symbols.
Chris Judd is an Englishman living in South Korea riding the ESL wave.
The girl with the yellow rucksack smiled. At last she could see the dead spruce that marked the end of the long trail. She plodded on.
A jay called in alarm and the black bear cub, scrambling through the spruce, paused.
Its mother looked up, saw the flash of yellow.
Frances Hart lives in southeast England and has won several national fiction and poetry competitions. She has published a novel through Authorhouse, “The Girl on the Balcony” by Frances Hart, available on Amazon.
She tore down each of her MISSING posters, cursing her own name more than her mother’s. She slinked beneath bridges, laid on the mattresses of marsh slime, or drifted into alleys.
Yet, she preserved the posters, her printed visages, because they documented the time, long ago, when she could smile.
Caroline Cao is an Earthling residing and surviving under the fickle weather of League City, TX. When she’s not doing poetry or researching techno-babbles for sci-fic drafts, she’s out swing dancing or experimenting with ramen noodles. She nudges you to scan through her film and writing portfolio.
World leaders summoned the aging hacker to thwart a new form of terrorism. A subverted Pokémon GO was luring millions to their deaths. Hacker had inserted an avaricious agent designed to destroy them all within 24 hours.
The screens powered on; a single grinning character remained: Pac Man had returned.
John Trott wrote this story.
Romeo smiled at Agnes and pointed to the wood pile. “See that! I bucked up those two cords in a single day. Just me and my double-bitted axe.”
But Agnes, who had a crush on his brother, just smiled and said, “We got gas heat now, don’t need no wood.”
V. Jane Schneeloch has been either writing or encouraging others to write for most of her life. Retired from teaching English at East Hartford High School, she has led writing workshops for youths, senior citizens, and incarcerated women. Her poems have been appeared in numerous journals. Her most recent collection, Turning Over Leaves, was published by Antrim House in 2015, and her chapbook, Climbing to the Moon: Poems Inspired by the Art of Georgia O’Keeffe, was published in 2009 by Finishing Line Press. Her plays In Hiding and The Test were produced at the Drama Studio. She lives in Springfield, Massachusetts, where she continues to be inspired by her walks in Forest Park. See more at vejane.com.
Standing on the footpath the cyclist had just been removed from, small pools of blood seeping brown into the asphalt, he noticed tiny red specks on his suede shoes. He heard another onlooker say something like, “Holy, this is horrific.”
He nodded his agreement; he’d bought the shoes in Florence.
Chris Connolly wrote this story.
The story of the week for August 15 to 19 is…
Five minutes until I do by Mark Farley
What a great metaphor.
Since I was a small child, my friend Merlin, having experienced his life backwards, would recite stories of my future, relating events he had witnessed, advising me accordingly. I miss Merlin’s insights. These days he barely speaks, being just a toddler, soon to be an infant, and then who knows.
Over the years Bob Thurber’s work has received a long list of awards and prizes. His most recent book is a collection of brief stories titled “Nothing But Trouble.” His first novel, “Paperboy: A Dysfunctional Novel,” was recently rereleased. Visit BobThurber.net.
You were the tomboy next door. We played children’s games: raced, wrestled, bickered. One day, suddenly, you were grown up. Poised, complicated, spellbinding.
You left for the city. Texted me that you were in love.
I suppose we’d known each other too long and too well ever to be lovers.
Alex’s story is what it is.
She couldn’t help thinking about the delicious taste in her mouth, the soft touch on her lips, the unparalleled, penetrating smell that consumed her senses and overshadowed her reason. She’d never be the same after this avid vacation in Paris.
Her passion for macarons had increased her weight a lot.
Claudia Ramalho lives in Maceio, Brazil, with her husband and their two daughters. She works as a legal analyst. She loves reading, travelling, cooking, and studying foreign languages.