News from the world of science today; Top researchers at Cambridge University declared they have successfully identified the gene for male pattern baldness.
In other news, riots broke out today at laboratories of Cambridge University when news of the cure for baldness sent thousands of hysterical men clambering for follicles.
David writes things he finds funny. Sometimes they’re funny.
The telegram crumpled in her hand.
BILLY MACALISTER. KILLED IN ACTION.
Hottest September day of 1915. She walked to the oak tree, picked the strongest branch, threw the rope. She didn’t hear the other Mrs William Macalister hammering at the door, clutching the wrong telegram.
BILLY MACALISTER. WOUNDED. COMING HOME.
Julia Vaughan is a fifty-something writer living in Ironbridge, Shropshire with cats, dogs and a grumpy husband. She has been writing stories since forever and has just published her first book of crime and mystery stories on Amazon Kindle: Grave Expectations & Other Tales.
The house beside the vineyard sleeps.
And I am the child who tries so hard to remember her dreams,
becoming an adult who wakes up with the taste of grapes in her mouth.
There was a river, I murmur to the empty pillow,
missing the boy who flowed within it.
Magdalena is a graduate of the University of Toronto. She is a writer who lives to poet. She also likes to colour and poet. Sometimes she sleeps. Poke around her blog.
I despise the word “burden.” It is such a depressing word. “A beast of burden,” “a burden to bear,” “laden with one’s burden.” It makes me cringe.
And now, ironically, I have become the very thing I despise.
From my hospital bed, I wonder how I can unburden my family.
Sadie McCurry wrote this story.
When the pain is there, the pain is all there is.
It’s hard to get out, to find the path, to find the way back to life, to living. We must ease into it, push back the darkness, find the light.
The path is there. It has always been there.
Joletta Belton blogs on chronic pain issues at MyCuppaJo.com, reads a lot, and loves adventure. She also loves staying at home in her PJs with her two favorite boys: her husband and their smashingly handsome dachshund, Buster.
The seat was comfortable, and I tried to stay calm.
Bizarrely, a million mundane thoughts flew through my head. Now, of all times. Maybe it was a subconscious distraction from that voice – that inescapable voice, going on and on.
Finally, it said: “Three, two, one… Lift-off.”
And everything changed.
Jason Ward is a journalist living in Southeast Asia. He also writes thewordofward.co.uk
She lay in some odd, uncomfortable place, not quite sure of where she was exactly or how she came to be in this spot, with her chin turned upwards so all that was visible was some wide expanse she vaguely remembered to be called a sky.
It was truly something.
Kathleen Doyle is currently studying English at the University of Toronto. Her short story “Dr. Surgeon” was published at Flash Fiction Magazine. She also presented the poem “20 Seconds of Breathless Anxiety” at the University of Toronto’s Fifth Annual Humanities Conference and was published in the conference proceedings.
Every time I change my body, they put me in a new cage, poke, prod, then leave.
Clang goes the door.
My hate builds so much: I become a rope and slither over to the wall. Now I’m bricks. Wait ‘til visiting time. This brick wall’s gonna bust out. Watch.
Brenda Anderson’s fiction has appeared in various places including ASIM and SpeckLit. She lives in Adelaide, South Australia.
He stares pointlessly into the cold nothingness, the dark eyes betraying no expression. A soft light from the room’s only window paints the picturesque heaven outside.
The tear rolls quickly, suddenly, down the contours of his disheveled face. Then, before it falls onto his straightjacket, it emancipates into a snowflake.
Ramit Das is partly a Computer Science student, partly a mathematician, but full-time a Philosopher. He gets lost thinking about how he thinks.
First
I
Fiddle around
Then I think
Y oh Y do I bother.
When I’ve slapped myself good and proper,
Other ideas come
Ring my bell
Delight
Surprise
Torment.
Orange
Rhyme?
I don’t know now
Every word seems trite
So what the heck; I just type. Cheers Ronald Chilcutt; nice.
David usually sends custom bios, but forgot this time, so I’m writing some nonsense for him. Nonsense like this: Grimbledorf.