My notepad is full of poems about love, back from a time I didn’t know much about it (though I thought I did), but love must be learned by living through its highs and lows, my notepad growing as I grew to find myself this grown man writing about love.
Ran Walker is the author of over 40 books, most of them microfiction. He teaches creative writing and lives in Virginia with his wife and daughter.
There weren’t fairies at the bottom of our garden. There were monsters, small, scabrous and very hungry, who ate any pests: insect, animal, human. Then they watched us.
There were monsters at the bottom of our garden… until the fairies came and ate them.
And now the fairies watch us.
Lorraine Manton is currently studying creative writing and literature at Deakin University, Australia and has a great fondness for books, coffee and small slices of imaginary lives.
Life swerved to a stop, wheels spinning. Time shattered.
Sirens faded into the fragile rhythm of plastic-chair percussion. Here, memories caught in their throats, clogged beneath the sterile smell of white. Fingers clenched tight around prayers as silence held the room like breath.
The door opened, and grief fell out.
Stephanie Hurley is a writer and English teacher based in Manawatū, New Zealand. She is passionate about all things creative; in particular, using writing to examine the world around her. Her work has been published in Tarot, Mote, Chortle, and fiftywordstories.com.
Rent is paid. Insurance is pending. Take off the utilities and the credit card payment. Twelve dollars left. How much is on the credit line? If I guess-timate and don’t eat much, there’s just enough wiggle room. I can get us a zoo membership. Maybe we can be kids again.
Morgan Lewellen lives in Oregon and writes fiction when she’s not teaching math.
Your husband takes a DNA test after his father dies. Your father-in-law was a traveling salesman who really got around; maybe there’s siblings.
You test as moral support, secretly hoping a girl with a moon face, the pinkest skin, a girl you’ve held just once, is looking for you, too.
Georgene Smith Goodin’s work has appeared in numerous publications, and has won the “Mash Stories” flash fiction competition. She lives in Los Angeles with her husband, the cartoonist Robert Goodin, and their four children. Follow her on Bluesky at @gsmithgoodin.bsky.social.
Thoughts of his mother flooded his mind: two years gone, today. It seemed so much longer. Outside, no jacket, he never minded freezing air that stung his face. Turning southwest, away from the full moon, Jerry looked skyward. He imagined he could see her ship, hurtling toward a distant world.
John Singh is a long-time publicity and communications executive in the entertainment industry, working for such companies as Disney, DreamWorks and Lucasfilm Ltd. He has lately turned his attention to writing fiction, primarily for his husband, Jeff, and their dog, Walter.
The gastroenterologist says flare, hands me a prescription. I say betrayal, a body consuming itself. That afternoon in the pharmacy line, a woman complains about her toddler. “He’s so picky,” she sighs. The line advances, but I’m stuck remembering the last time I had the joy of choosing my meal.
Preeti Talwai writes from California, where she is also a research leader in tech. Her writing appears or is forthcoming in: The New York Times, 100-Word Story, HAD, Prime Number, Cleaver and more. See more at preetitalwai.com.
Endless days of PB&Js on Wonder Bread washed down with sips from the hose. Sticky toes from where the popsicle dripped onto flipflops. And me, flipflopping through the neighborhood on Blue Thunder, a hand-me-down bike I imagined as a black stallion.
serenity—
my thoughts return
to the old days
Jenny Mattern is a poet, a crafter of stories, and a cake-for-breakfast enthusiast who lives with her family in Montana.
The story of the week for August 11 to 15 is…
The Taste of Forgetting by A.J. Joseph
Bottles of Merlot. The steaks Anastasia bought; we planned to cook them for a special dinner.
Anastasia’s lavender blouses, Capris, and sweatpants.
Every invective that rises as I pack her goods into crumbling cardboard boxes.
Yash Seyedbagheri is a graduate of Colorado State University’s MFA fiction program. His work has been published in SmokeLong Quarterly, The Journal of Compressed Creative Arts, and Ariel Chart, among others.