After the queen died of consumption, we smothered the old king in his sleep and condemned his son for the murder.
We then put in place to rule our territory the speechless blind prophet who always wore a crown of sparrows, their tiny talons tangled in his coarse filthy hair.
Over the years Bob Thurber’s work has received a long list of awards and prizes. His most recent book is a collection of brief stories titled “Nothing But Trouble”. Visit BobThurber.net.
His knees hit the sand, and he collapsed face down. Exhausted. Finally spent.
He knew as clearly as anything that if he closed his eyes, he would never open them again.
But he was tired.
So very tired.
More tired than he had ever been before.
He closed his eyes.
Maxwell Park wrote this story.
“What’s your favourite book?” the librarian asked, as they walked through the aisles of novels.
“Gatsby,” she mumbled. “I love the way they talk.”
Suddenly, she crashed into someone.
“Sorry.” She looked up to the handsome man. “That was an accident.”
“It takes two to make an accident,” he smiled.
Beth Robertson is a 19-year-old writer based in Glasgow who carries around a little notebook and pen at all times.
Editor: The final line is a quote from The Great Gatbsy, the novel the first character mentioned, for those of you who might miss the reference!
While I tried not to worry about problems,
He walked into the sea.
Foams splashed against him.
He stood still,
Absorbing the moment.
A monk’s soul, a bird’s spirit, and a baby’s happiness
Reflected in his being.
The three-legged stray dog
Unknowingly
Taught me the best lessons in Inner Peace.
Kasturi is an equity analyst and an aspiring writer. She currently writes microfiction on her blog and aims to start writing a novel soon.
Early morning. I have to run. I need to get to the office early. So many things to do! So many reports, meetings, and obligations. Problems everywhere!
I pass by a big dumpster and instinctively glance inside.
A man, lying among the garbage, looks at me and smiles. “Good morning!”
Guillermo Cruz is a Phd student in the School of Management at Universidade Federal do Rio Grande do Sul (UFRGS), Porto Alegre, Brazil. His research interests focus on the institutions of our society, how they emerge and are sustained, how they constrain individuals inside and outside organizations, how they are disrupted, and, especially, how institutions are immersed in the flux of objectification of human individuality. In his free time he likes to reflect about the futility of our modern life.
Alarm sounds.
Shower. Eat. Walk the dog.
Drive.
Greet, instruct, answer, model, and guide. Wonder, marvel, and rejoice.
Eat.
Meet, collaborate, and argue. Listen and advise.
Drive. Walk the dog.
Embrace, observe, assist, fix, and moderate. Eat. Clean, relax, remember, forget, and never regret.
Walk the dog.
Thank.
Sleep.
Repeat.
Ronald Chilcutt is a 45-year-old High School Special Education Math Teacher who lives in the greater Chicago area. He lives with the love of his life, their two kids, and a dog. Ronald has always believed that there is a great American novel buried in him somewhere, but has not found the right shovel to dig it out.
In every job she ever had, she’d always been an assistant, never the boss. This had to change.
But clawing her way to the top took such a long time. Better to sit back, read her magazine, sip her large latte.
And wait for her boss to open the package.
Joanne R. Fritz lives in West Chester, PA. Her short fiction has appeared in Vine Leaves Literary Journal, Every Day Fiction, and Twisted Endings.
Once upon a time there was an ordinary man.
Once upon a time there was an ordinary man who was conscious of his mediocrity.
Once upon a time there was an ordinary man who was conscious of his mediocrity, so never said a word.
He died as a wise man.
Fábio Vacaro Culau is an eternal learner who loves writing and sometimes dares to share his words. Read some of his writing on his blog.
The story of the week for June 21 to 26 is…
Thunderclap by Sarah Scott
Inspirational and full of heart. A worthy weekly winner.
The smoke was so thick that I couldn’t breathe. Pieces of metal were everywhere. The room was covered in red liquid. I looked at my hands and screamed with terror. My whole body was aching. I had never experienced anything like this.
I will never make toast with ketchup again.
Sara wrote this story.
Editor’s Note: I really wanted to title this “Catoastrophe”, but that would have spoiled the reveal!