AMY ROWE: Traffic Terror

Amusing, Submissions, , , ,

My legs were jelly, heart pounding in my ears.

A car roared as a cyclist swerved, cutting off my exit. Everything stopped. A dead unison.

Then: phew! I was still alive. I released the harness, my fingers red and cramped. The guide dog traffic training was over. Good girl, Ellie!

Amy is a twenty-something Braille student who loves 80s movies, tea with honey, and odd socks. She lives with her guide dog, Ellie, who eats squeaky balls for dinner or breakfast. She blogs at blind-style.com and tweets as @braillesnail.

 

MARIAN BROOKS: How It Starts

Amusing, Submissions, , , , ,

Donna’s ninety-year-old mother spotted the Christmas tree in her daughter’s living room. It was hard to miss.

She frowned, warning, “This is how it starts.”

Last March Donna married an Italian, a Catholic to boot. Donna is Jewish but very quickly acquired a taste for cannoli and tiramisu.

Mother was right.

Recently retired, Marian Brooks has begun to write some short fiction.  She lives in Pennsylvania with her husband. Her work has appeared in Thick Jam, Curly Red Stories, Short Humour and others.

Editor’s note: This story came in prior to Christmas, and it was entirely my fault that it wasn’t posted closer to the holidays! I think it’s still worth reading though, don’t you? :)

CONNELL WAYNE REGNER: A Devastating Diagnosis

Artistic, Submissions, , , , ,

Feeling down, he decided to go fishing. It wasn’t long before he caught a decent sized fish.

He looked down as it was dying and trying to take breaths, as if underwater.

He picked it up and threw it back. “No reason your fate should be as terrible as mine.”

Connell Wayne Regner had successfully avoided writing creatively since he wrote spontaneous lyrics to music many years ago. Although from a linguistic background, he has serendipitously succumbed to fiction after spontaneously creating bedtime stories for his children. His other dabblings can be found at paragraphplanet and wtdmagazine.wordpress.com.

BEN JACKSON: Ripped

Amusing, Submissions, ,

“Well, this sucks.”

Blue tumbled with gray and cold slowly warmed. It was just Mike’s luck, and he blamed Leslie for talking him into it.

Resigned to a shorter afternoon than planned, he futilely pulled his broken ripcord until the green on the ground met the green in his eyes.

Ben Jackson is a father, blogger, student, teacher, martial artist, and majestically bearded. He lives in Natick, Massachusetts. You can read more of his writing at http://www.dadofthedecade.com.

TIFFANY A. ROBINS: The Reunion

Submissions, Touching, , , ,

He asked jokingly, but with accusation. “Is that why you unfriended me?”

My feet held my attention. I couldn’t lie. “I just couldn’t watch you be happy with her anymore.”

“I wanted to keep you in my life.”

“I tried… Really.”

“Then I’ll try to forgive you.” He walked away.

Tiffany Robbins was born in Kettering, Ohio, to Johnny and Cathy Lee. She moved around a lot throughout her youth, but mainly kept to the Midwest where she still resides. She attended most of her elementary years and all of her high school years in Tarkio, Missouri, which she still considers to be her home town and one of the greatest places on Earth. It is a small town where everyone knows everything and they have no idea how much of a gem they have. Tiffany went to a community college and holds an associate degree in Computer Programming, but found out that her passions lie elsewhere. She loves working with computer graphics and will do anything that gives her a creative outlet. She married Cameron E. Robbins in 2003, and remains happily by his side. They keep pet rats, which are the love of their lives, and a pet dog named Waylan.

SHELLY EADY: The Rendezvous

Amusing, Submissions, , ,

Her soft voice offered a hint of reassurance. Adrenaline rush mirrored a NASCAR member. Full-court press perspiration and anticipation of the unknown; fear and anxiety married.

Eyes closed to focus and relax my breathing.

Her hand gently touched my shoulder. Our eyes met. She smiled.

It’s over. Wisdom teeth extracted.

Shelly Eady is an emerging writer with an abundance of faith, courage and a heart’s desire. Her goal is to enrich, inspire, and encourage others to dream through the art of creativity.

SHARON ANTHONY: It Wasn’t Only a Dream

Submissions, Touching, , ,

Last night I dreamed of being with her, seeing her thinning, silver hair and looking into her aged blue eyes.

We didn’t speak. Words were never essential between us. A weave of unconditional devotion was knitting us together.

My grandmother’s gift taught me how to love in lifetime, for eternity.

Sharon Anthony is currently a student struggling through her last math class and yearning for the day she can just write and have literature classes. She is grateful that her first creative writing class was taught by Mike Hancock.

KEVIN SHEAHAN: Little Girl

Submissions, Touching, , ,

“What do you think about him dating your little girl?”

“My little girl isn’t little anymore. You can take care of yourself.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Don’t be sarcastic with me, Jennifer.”

“Call me Jenn, Dad.”

“I named you Jennifer.”

“Mom named me Jennifer. You wanted a boy.”

An avid skier and hiker, Kevin Sheahan has an M.F.A. from Southern New Hampshire University, and is now pursuing an M.Div. at Reformed Theological Seminary.

GINGER HUGHES: Vacation Fun

Artistic, Submissions, , , ,

The beach, fringed with come and go rhythm of ripples, stretches past walking distance both ways, dotted white seagulls rising above.

Quite unexpectedly, one is caught by the kite racing out to sea, into wind, against nature, before plunging to drown out of the boy’s reach far beyond the surf.

Ginger Hopkins lives in the Texas Hill Country on top of a mountain where she Celtic dances and teaches English Composition online for Brookhaven College in Dallas, Texas. She holds a BA and MA in English from TX A&M University.

DELANCEY STEWART: Cold Distance

Submissions, Touching, , , ,

“You’re home. Dinner’s on the counter. The kids have been a nightmare.”

His eyes move past me, his keys slide across the cold granite. He finds a plate, and walks to his office. The screen’s glow illuminates the man I once knew, now silent.

“Goodbye, then.”

I close the door.

Delancey Stewart is a fiction writer living in Southern Maryland. When no indulging her imagination, she works for the man as a tech writer and tends two small boys who, her husband assures her, are hers. Find her at http://delanceystewart.wordpress.com.