2. The last line of this story became the first.
After years of experimenting with wave functions, quantum entanglement, and my home-made particle accelerator, I’d finally conquered it.
Time travel.
Problem was, it applied only to the written word.
This meant two things:
1. My notes were rather messy, and
Lee Nicholas enjoys writing personalised choose-your-own-adventure books for nephews and nieces (even favourite Ukey ones). One day, he hopes to make money doing this.
In winter, we brandished bread-bag-bundled feet and slid them into our snow boots.
In summer, we adventured barefoot through sprinkler-strewn backyards.
“Stay away from the neighbor boy,” Mrs. F said.
He was as tall as a tale, dribbled lemonade and had chicken pox that looked like acne.
We didn’t listen.
V. Leigh is a dream maker and a storyteller. She has worked in the entertainment industry for the better part of the past twenty years and spends her time supporting artists.
On train rides to the province with my grandma, the wheels and tracks did most of the talking. I’d patiently wait for her to reach into the large pockets she’d sewn onto her dress. Together, we’d crack and peel hard boiled eggs and let the shells fly from our window.
Mari Kitina writes to find beauty in the mundane and to uncover the secrets that live within her. She is a self-published author of Back to Dance: How I Revived My Dance and My Spirit and How You Can Too, a personal memoir and self-help book born out of her passion to inspire the creative spark in others.
she made coffee
just how i liked it.
smiled when i sat.
nodded when i spoke.
her silence never replied.
her eyes never left.
i said goodbye.
she stayed.
still stays.
frozen in a photo
on the wall,
holding a cup
i do not remember
teaching my daughter to make.
Asmi Mahajan is a student from India who finds reading and writing to be deeply cathartic. Beyond the written word, she enjoys café hopping, experimenting with new styles of matcha and bubble tea, and practicing calligraphy and brush pen lettering. Whether it’s through ink or experience, she’s always looking for new ways to express herself.
I’m obsessed with Japan. I can’t help it! Like a junkie angling for a fix, I scan, watch, wildly make spreadsheets.
Shinkansen. Shinjuku. Shibuya!
The Duolingo owl, neon green, chirrups a command. O’cha kudasai! I sing obediently.
My son laughs, rolls his eyes, knowing our travels will be organised chaos.
Gabe has been writing and editing for 30 years in Sydney, Australia. She finds travelling an endless source of writing inspo. (Her son is not so sure.)
She skipped a grade, he flunked out of boarding school
and so, they met as sophomores, feral and edgy
like a Berlin disco. Many years later, he still recalls
sad blue eyes and the small of her back.
Her bright yellow dress feeling stiff and new
like their first slow-dance.
Matthew lives in Maine near a lake. He is very fortunate and sometimes lucky. He wishes our world was a happy place.
in the middle ages
cathedrals soared
impossibly high
flying buttresses
allowing each
stained glass window
to arch
up and up
and up
inviting in
all the light
is it any wonder
then
that I
in my own middle age
throw open my arms
impossibly wide
inviting in
all the light
Jenny Mattern is a poet, a crafter of stories, and a cake-for-breakfast enthusiast who lives with her family in Montana. She is represented by Nicole Eisenbraun at Ginger Clark Literary Agency.
In my wheelchair in the exam room, as I explain my symptoms in detail to the specialist (unable to move my legs; no control over my bladder, bowels, or anything below my waist), I can feel it purposefully, deliberately changing course and making a desperate, hell-bent beeline for my mouth.
Trevor’s fiction and non-fiction have appeared it print and digital publications since the 1970s. He’s a mononymous, multiple award-winning, full-time entertainer who likes hyphens. trevorthegamesman.com
The story of the week for April 7 to 11…
Moonshine by Deborah Tapper
Mrs. Brown, queen of the classroom.
57,559 hours of Romans, Vikings, Celts behind her, over and over.
Sandwich every lunchtime. Tweed suit, lace-ups, greying bun. Kids in navy uniforms, year after year.
History unchanging.
Endless, exquisite hours ahead.
Sequinned dress. High-heels. Flowing hair.
Queen of the ballroom.
History to write.
Josie Lejeune wrote this story.