I left town and drove straight at the rising sun. No one would miss me. My radio screamed and I forced myself not to look back. A new life swelled over the horizon, while the old one turned to ash in my wake. Lesson learned: nobody loves a rodeo clown.
Steven is a writer of fiction and Facebook updates. He is proud of one of these and hides another. Alternatingly. Depending on his Facebook posts that day. Check out his blog.
The beaches of Cancun and the Mayan Riviera are unusual destinations for soul searching. Yet that’s the tale Allison told her husband before she took off.
No one knew how long she searched, or how hard, but she found it floating at the bottom of a bottle of premium tequila.
Recently retired, Marian Brooks has begun to write some short fiction. Her work has appeared in The Story Shack, Word Riot, Zest Magazine, The Linnet’s Wings and others.
The time machine shimmered and was gone. She looked at the space it left and thought of the man she had just spoken to, gone to his fate in a destroyed world.
As he now kicked inside her she knew what might become of him.
She had better get started.
Steven Lee wrote this story.
Memories arise as she gradually awakens from her medical stupor. Behind her closed eyelids, she remembers the ambulance, doctors, and then the rush into C-section surgery.
Did her sweet baby–no wait, babies–make it?
She peeks open her hazel eyes to find two congratulatory balloons. One pink. One blue.
Jewel is a stay at home mother who spends her days chasing after her spunky two year old, and her free time writing and entering contests on sites such as Needle in the Hay.
That summer smelled like burning ants.
“C’mon, give your old man a hug,” he said, struggling to sit up straight amongst white sheets. I could feel his bones when I wrapped my arms around his tired body.
The ants squirmed under my magnifying class, but I was a merciless god.
Regina Solomond is a writer from Wexford, Pennsylvania. She is inspired by the oddities of the world and the strange people living in it.
I am a thief and a liar.
Forty years ago, when I was eight, I stole my cousin’s glow-in-the-dark super ball from his house on Thanksgiving morning. I told mom I found it in the park.
The ball was lost soon after, but not the shame. That I still have.
Kenneth Drexler is a short story writer located in the suburbs of Washington, D.C. His most recent story will appear in the July/August issue of Bethesda Magazine.
No more? That’s what you said last time.
Let’s face it, you depend on me now. I help you laugh. I help you feel alive. I help you get through your week of 9-5 job.
Come on, have one more and I’ll even help you not remember her name tomorrow.
Yassi is a novice writer. She is thoroughly enjoying her exploration of short sagas.
My mom said I was being ridiculous, but she hadn’t seen us gather the leaves and bones and words for our spell.
Our incantation was precise and perfect.
All of us feigned surprised when Annie Taylor was hit by a car after her summer of tormenting my sisters and me.
Ani King is a pen stealer, notebook hoarder, unreliable knitter, and obsessive reader.
Her eyes water as she searches for her son among the wreckage. There are floating ashes. Smoke.
When she blinks she sees the meadow they wandered in yesterday. Floating pollen was airborne, but it was his wide-eyed wonderment that made her eyes water.
She’s found him. He’s in the meadow.
Jason Huynh finds himself not writing what he knows, for he has realized that he knows very little in the world of experience. Jason should prioritize better and finish his homework first…
I was sitting playing music in a bar at a Folk Festival.
Positioned next to me were two pairs of hands, both neatly manicured, both painted the same colour. Both pairs of forearms were pale, hairless, and of a similar size. They were wearing identical wedding rings: his and hers.
Anne Lever is recently retired and is a mature student at ChristChurch University in Canterbury.