Stories from my life told o’er family dinners, sharing adventures and confessions. Sons smile, laugh, and embellish. The short wedding dress grows shorter. The false peanut butter becomes more disgusting. Arrest for bank robbery almost happened, and the elephant that chased me grows fiercer with the telling. Stories become legends.
Eileen lives life for the stories that can be told.
Her sobbing turned to sniffles and snorts. Her eyes were a mess. She went from the bed to the mirror to fix her makeup. Her reflection winced at him and he winced back. She said you could be nice. He said I’m being nice. She said you could be nicer.
Bob Thurber is the author of six books. Regarded as a master of Flash and Micro Fiction, his work has appeared in Esquire and other magazines, been anthologized 60 times, received a long list of awards, and been utilized in schools and colleges throughout the world. He resides in Massachusetts. Visit his website at BobThurber.net.
My love is not like a red red rose
It’s like that dandelion – there, see it?
Of course you do, that small, stubborn spot of gold
grown through a crack in old suburban concrete
Not welcome, not wanted, maybe not even noticed
But bright, sunshine-bright
and refusing to die.
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.
The steak crackles in the pan, then comes out. In goes the butter, then the mushrooms, psilocybe cubensis. They brown. The steak reenters. Since his wife’s death, John’s appetite has been temperamental. His belly full, he stumbles to bed, blinks… she appears as a whisper… then melts… dripping into eternity.
G. O. Elliott is an emerging writer based in Santa Barbara, CA, where he is the father to two boys and the spouse to a smarter and kinder soul than he. He is a graduate of Columbia University and Syracuse University. When not writing, he enjoys volunteering, going to the beach with his family, and eating tacos.
The coffee shop’s packed with laptops and sketchbooks. A sculptor argues loudly about grants. Outside, tourists take selfies. We work here because rent’s cheaper off-season and nobody asks what you do for “real money.” O’Neill drank at this bar. Millay wrote upstairs. We’re trying to finish before the check comes.
Scott Burau is a writer and artist living between Provincetown, Massachusetts, and Key West, Florida. He attended a small Quaker college outside Philadelphia and grew up in Oklahoma. His work is forthcoming in Full Mood and fourteen poems.
I hired a private investigator to catch my wife cheating on me while I worked late.
She had become withdrawn, ignoring my questions, like
“Where were you tonight?”
One day I turned a corner to find my private investigator and her private investigator making out, forgetting to take any pictures.
Alex Pigeon is a law student in Saint Louis, Missouri. When she isn’t studying or writing, she’s playing board games and knitting.
He was always the better one.
First out of the womb. Pitcher while I played the outfield. Scoring the winning touchdown while I sat on the sideline eating Cracker Jacks. Valedictorian in high school. I was a B-student at best.
The first in a coffin. Now I’ll never measure up.
Christa Lyon-Moon spends her free time crafting flash fiction that finds meaning in small moments where imagination meets real life.
Great hustle. Love the effort. Some notes.
Descartes, there are two Is in narcissism.
Laplace, there’s no time for tape review.
Maxwell, save the Goldilocks routine for the bedroom.
Searle, I don’t care how, just put some points on the board.
Alright, now get out there and give ’em Hell!
Nicholas De Marino only knew about two of those before reading up on this.
Driving a hearse and singing “Another One Bites the Dust”, Vivian turns onto the country road, accelerates. She’s late and preoccupied with life, as a plume of dry earth trails behind.
At least she knows not to hum the refrain in front of the family at the grave this time.
Lauren is an Assistant Professor of Mortuary Science. She enjoys writing poetry that leans into short fictional fragments.
The story of the week for March 9 to 13 is…
self-conference by Maria Cargille