The “DO NOT DISTURB” tag was hanging on the doorknob.
His wedding ring sparkled on his left hand. The gun gleamed on his right hand.
Muffled moans echoed through the motel door.
Still sobbing, he slammed the back of his head against the wall in time with the creaking bed.
Eliah Medina is a Legal Studies major in Texas who also enjoys creative writing.
When my mother fell pregnant, I wished for the baby to die.
My sister’s looming arrival changed us all. I pretended to busy myself with my toys as my parents discussed their problems. Another mouth to feed was too much.
When labour pains kicked in, I’d already packed my bag.
Mark Farley’s nose is to the NaNoWriMo grindstone. His zombie novella “Grans & Ammo” is available on Amazon.
We would be the first family to fly to the moon. I don’t know why they chose us. Dad hates flying, mom fears open spaces, my sister needs too much space, and I get severe motion sickness.
At least I’ll find out if the moon really is made of cheese.
Stephanie Amargi lives in Oregon with her husband and some house spiders. Her poetry is forthcoming in Foundling Review. She writes about her love for food, words, and being human on her blog.
(In Memory of Kay, 1923-2015)
The plan was to shut all the windows after the first drop, but the clouds passed over us and no rain fell. The wind driving the storm left a crinkling silence in its wake. The air stilled, the curtains stopped moving, and it was like the house had stopped breathing.
I rode the roller coaster with him
Over and over again
We were searching for the same thrill
That we felt the first time
But after every ride
After the twists and turns and loops
We would disembark,
Forget the unsettled feeling in our stomachs,
And get back in line.
Jane Danforth is a high school senior who would rather be writing fiction than college essays.
We’d spent a rare afternoon rummaging among leaves to find them, so it pained me to see my daughter throw the conkers from her window.
“Don’t you want them?” I asked.
“I want to let them grow,” she said. “When you love things, sometimes it’s best to leave them behind.”
Guy has no notable literary accolades, but once beat a retired Indonesian pirate at chess. This is his fifth 50-word story.
The story of the week for November 2 to 6 is…
Blind Date by Matthew Gregory
There’s so much story told here, almost purely by insinuation and reading between the lines. Chilling.
The moon had been eaten again.
People glanced through the bullet-proof glass of their homes in the stratosphere, realised the time of the month. None of them worried.
The creature would regurgitate it again soon, bit by bit, its surface shining with saliva.
Perhaps one day it would admit defeat.
William Shaw is a student, blogger, and amateur journalist. He is slightly obsessed with the moon. You can find him on Tumblr, where he writes haiku poetry about Doctor Who.
Shelby felt bad about flying off the handle like that, knocking all his precious instruments awry.
It was only a burnt-out fuse after all, and knowing Frankie, he’d just pop a new set of Triple As into her neck and she’d be back on her size thirteens in no time.
Pat Campbell is a retired professor of Drama. She has been writing short stories for twenty-five years and is a published Haiku and Tanka poet. She loves the challenge of writing a complete story in just 50 words.
On Monday, she looked at the Tarot cards on her bed.
On Tuesday, she fondled the Blarney Stone.
On Wednesday, she rolled a pine cone in her hand.
On Thursday, she kissed the cat goodbye.
On Friday, she wrote thank-you letters.
On Saturday, she slept.
On Sunday, dead of cancer.
Ruth Z Deming has been published in lit mags including Hektoen International, Literary Yard and River Poets Journal. A psychotherapist, she runs New Directions Support Group for people and families affected by depression and bipolar disorder. She lives in Willow Grove, a suburb of Philadelphia. Her blog is ruthzdeming.blogspot.com.