Jake was a mongrel who howled at the moon. Ma Olson bought him as protection against local thugs, and unfamiliar faces were greeted with menacing growls.
“Too loud,” complained neighbours, sentencing Jake to a premature demise.
One month later, when his owner was brutally murdered, no one heard a sound.
John B Sinclair is a much-travelled Scot who has now returned to Scotland, where he enjoys freelance writing on a variety of subjects.
“Hey, Paul, look. A baby bird!”
Paul stopped mid-stride and turned to face Jake, a wicked grin creased across his child’s face. “Is it dead?”
“No. I think it’s a broken wing.”
Jake’s eyes conveyed nervousness.
Paul’s eyes however, held blood and lust. “A little baby bird,” he whispered.
Jay Finn is a 33 year old Irishman. Currently he has two ebooks available on Amazon and spends his days in the library, possessively working over his first novel. You can find out all you need to know about him and his writing at http://jayfinnauthor.wordpress.com/.
Tom woke up to a frost-covered lawn. How did he end up here?
He used to languish on Caribbean beaches with no job worries until fast-fingered whiz kids made him redundant. In London, no one wants a dinosaur.
His radio clicked on: “The sun ain’t gonna shine anymore.”
Time for bed.
John B Sinclair now lives in Scotland and is a freelance writer of mostly comedy material to the local news media.
He worked abroad for many years (Bermuda and the Bahamas) and loved his visits to the US. Orlando, New York City, and Boston are his favourite places. JBS enjoys football (soccer) and Maine Lobster.
Round, another shield of Perseus, the painting holds Medusa beheaded and mortally offended; why does everyone blame her?
Why must she be punished again and again? She scowls, her snakes hissing in support of her.
“Don’t look at me,” she cries out. “Don’t let him use me like this. Run!”
E.A. Fow holds an MFA in Creative Writing from Brooklyn College, CUNY. She reads, writes, and paints in Brooklyn, NY.
Editor’s Note: This story is inspired by a painting, which you can learn about here.
An usher discovered Delbert laying across three seats. “Sir, you only get one seat. You gotta move.”
When Delbert only groaned, management called police. “You appear drunk, sir. Your name?” the cop asked.
“Delbert,” he croaked.
“You got ID?”
“Nooo…” Delbert managed.
“Okay wise-guy, where’d you come from?”
“The balcony.”
Gary Clifton, forty years a cop, has an M.S from Abilene Christian University and short fiction pieces published or pending on over thirty online sites.
It was yet another late night for Dave. He hadn’t been able to go to sleep at a reasonable time in months.
The smoke from his cigarette danced in the 4 o’clock moonlight. He reeked of whisky. There was an empty prescription pill bottle in the trash bin.
Finally, he slept.
Vlad is a college student living in the Long Island, commuting into Brooklyn daily, and generally traveling the world. Spending hours on end simply staring out the window of a train, maybe a car or a bus, has never been a problem. No, the real issue is knowing where he’s headed.
She fished the gem out of her belly button, popped it in her mouth, and swallowed.
“So predictable,” yawned the border guard.
“You know what happens next?” She smiled. “Now you have to get it the hard way.”
Just then, her little cough turned into a full-on choke.
“So predictable!”
Lynlea Oppie enjoys reading and writing flash fiction.
The key suspect in the case was Mrs. Kee, an old granny, always angry and grumpy. Homicide had taken place; an innocent sunflower had been stepped on. She had the perfect motive: she hated anything happy and colourful.
The foot smashing had a perfect imprint of her silk slippers, size 6.
Today’s story was submitted by Jason Wiradharma.
George escaped the wretched orphanage in the dark night and scurried toward the wharf.
He found a pallet of rice bags and hid himself inside the pile. His exciting new life in America would soon begin!
In the morning a crane swung him into the cargo hold of the Titanic.
Bryan Joyner is a middle-aged banker who read about 50-word stories in Daniel Pink’s book “A Whole New Mind”, and began using the concept to connect with his two college age children. Each of them write stories and send them to each other for feedback.
A week into summer, Max the bearded dragon was acting weird. He didn’t move, flinch to catch his cricket dinner, or want to be touched.
Then one day, as Mike, Max’s keeper, walked into his room, he saw three tiny eggs tucked neatly away.
Turns out Max was a Maxine.
Today’s story came from Ashley Brozic.