“Lord, a good skillet makes all the difference,” Rhonda whispers, mimicking her grandmother. Bruised, bleeding, and trembling, she raises the cast iron high overhead, and then whops her sleeping husband, crushing his skull.
As blood soaks into the mattress, she understands why her grandma’s wedding gift came with a wink.
Jeffrey Darter is currently at work on his first book. A nature enthusiast and an adventurer, he is also an avid cook, and has an iron skillet of his own. He is single.
Hot soup had lifted a small membrane of skin from the roof of his mouth during dinner. His tongue probed this injury, and he studied his reflection in the mirror.
Skin between his eyebrows was taut and eyes opaque, but he experienced no pain.
He did not want to die.
Michael is a graduate of Portland’s 2011 Attic Atheneum, a one-year alternative to a MFA program. His published fiction and creative non-fiction have appeared in Bartleby Snopes, Blue Lake Review, MacGuffin, PANK, Prick of the Spindle, Prime Number, and other on-line and print journals and anthologies. His series collectively called “Mississippi Freedom Summer in Eight Vignettes” was published in the “Best of the Net 2011” by Sundress Publications.
Lying on her bed, Bella could finally move her legs; flexing and testing their strength, she waved an arm with glee.
When they held a mirror to her face, she gurgled.
“Mama!”
“That’s right, Bella,” said the brain surgeon.
Bella’s children sat quietly nearby. They hoped she would recover fully.
Margaret McGoverne is currently writing her first full length novel, while being distracted by short stories, flash fiction and her blog about all things writing.
Meandering up the steep hill, Chloe, my Labradoodle, dawdles, sniffing brown-green grass. I pause, enjoying early morning birdsong
My quiet journey is interrupted by sounds of cars racing to join other bleary-eyed drivers, hurtling onto jammed freeways. For many, the work day has begun.
I smile, ambling down the hill.
A New England girl transplanted to sunny San Diego after marriage, Kathleen has been an English teacher on both American coasts (and in Puerto Rico). Retired, she enjoys writing, hiking, working as a volunteer with students, and visiting Cambria, the west coast’s answer to her New England.
He was sick of blood.
Meanwhile, the trail of corpses had authorities hot on his heels, so he decided to quit cold turkey. He joined “Bloodsuckers Anonymous”, a little known international self-help organisation with their head office in Transylvania.
Problem was, there wasn’t a vampire amongst them, just corporate leaders.
Connell has previously written about Frankenstein and zombies on 50-word Stories. This is his first, and perhaps last, foray into the shadowy world of vampires.
An old man scratches his stomach through rags on a street corner. On cardboard he has written: “Anything Helps.”
A suited man approaches, and the old man says. “Please, sir, spare some change for this beggar?”
The man replies, “I don’t have any change. I just bought a new wallet.”
J.D. Mraz is a husband and father of two. Writers Ray Bradbury, Ernest Hemingway, John Steinbeck, and Anton Chekhov greatly influence his work. He has five published short stories and a self-published novel to his credit.
I swirl, dip, leap and step,
To the rhythmic, rolling, reverberating melody,
Of gleaming copper, and polished bronze;
A shivering note, long held in the air.
The deep, monotonous, shivering song,
of shining, gleaming, chiming bells.
I must leave before the twelfth gong.
Prepare my pumpkin.
I lost my shoe.
Ellen is a 12-year-old student at Crofton House. She enjoys making puns.
The story of the week for March 21 to 25 is…
The Diviner by Candace Kubinec
A clever way to indirectly tell the story of what sounds like a very unique relationship.
Eagerly anticipating our exam grades, we were shocked when Mrs. Johnson entered the classroom with a shopping bag full of shredded paper.
She said, “Forget everything I’ve said up to this point about how it’s your responsibility to keep your work out of your dog’s reach.”
Thomas raised his hand.
James W. Davidson, Jr. majors in philosophy and English at Winthrop University in Rock Hill, SC.
She claimed she needed the window seat—”It’s to prevent me from puking my guts out during turbulence, baby”—but I knew what she really wanted was to stare out into the wispy clouds, to hide from the reality that our relationship had been free falling for quite some time.
Christopher Gonzalez is a writer and graduate of Vassar College, where he won the 2015 Ann E. Imbrie Prize for Excellence in Fiction Writing. Born in Virginia, raised in Ohio, he currently lives in Brooklyn and works in eBook production. You can find his writing at chris-gonzalez.com.