Out of cold blackness a hooded guy, kid maybe, waved a switchblade. “Gimme yer money, boy.”
“Got no money.” I dropped the newspaper bag and by dumb luck grappled the knife away. He got cut pretty good and ran off, howling.
I kept the knife and never saw him again.
Gary Clifton, forty years a cop has short fiction pieces published or pending on over twenty online sites.
“That was my husband. He dropped Jenny off at school.”
She sips her coffee.
“Sorry, ignore that. Unnecessary. I’m just restless.”
She tucks a stray hair.
“How does this work then?”
Crosses, uncrosses her legs.
He puts his teacup down. He speaks.
“I’d rather you take your ring off, first.”
A recent graduate in English and Creative Writing, Carlotta currently spends most of her time re-drafting and re-writing her CV, as much as she would rather be re-drafting and re-writing her stories. She is looking to work as an editorial assistant for a publishing company, but knows that she will be looking and waiting for quite a while. Her favourite things to write are short stories, flash fiction and poetry. Carlotta lives near London and aspires to have her work read by more than just her friends and family one day. If that someone is you, you can visit her blog.
I covered my eyes, hoping I’d miraculously become invisible, like a child playing peekaboo, trying to deceive myself into thinking, “what I can’t see can’t hurt me.”
Neither worked. The creature that’d been chasing me for days was, despite my hopes, still fast approaching.
There was nowhere left to run.
Bernadette Woods is an English Literature student who in addition to writing as part of her studies also writes purely for enjoyment. When she is not busy writing she also enjoys both painting and photography, or essentially anything that involves creativity and imagination.
The soldiers made him pull the trigger, bury a bullet in his mother’s forehead, watch his village burn.
Some day, he thought, I’ll kiss a girl and see skyscrapers.
His knees collided with now-sacred ground. He gagged on the ashes of his soul.
Through smoky tears, he prayed. Some day.
Salena Casha’s work has appeared or is forthcoming in Stymie Magazine, Bete Noire, The Quotable, Silver Blade and others. Follow her on twitter @salaylay_c.
“Yes. Night thoughts are nothing.”
“Usually.”
“How do I work, now that she’s gone?”
He thought for a moment. “Start with the truest sentence you know. Then it’s easy.”
Jack Blair is a biker, triathlete, cowboy, dropout, and writer in Seattle. His blog on writing, training, eating, and playing is at www.jackblairdaily.wordpress.com.
Evan paid the rose-tattooed toll collector and sped ahead.
Just released from the psychiatric hospital, he smiled. The prescriptions had subdued the demons. This beach weekend with Jennifer would surely salvage their relationship.
Seventy miles later, he entered the last toll and froze as the rose-tattooed girl asked, “You again?”
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.
She was a tall, attractive, hazel-eyed brunette with perfect posture. He felt intimidated by her accomplished and confident demeanor.
Nevertheless, he approached her, but as she turned, he knew it was over before it began.
He was disappointed. Why does she have to be chomping on a wad of bubblegum?!
Bo McGuire has over 25 years experience as a community corrections professional. Now, she is a freelance writer and recently completed a manuscript for a young adult book. She has an M.A. in Social and Public Policy and a B.A. in Criminal Justice from Duquesne University. She is a member of Writer’s Ink, The Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators, and the SM Writer’s Critique Club.
Outside the bridge rail he edged away. River, rocks, and eternity loomed below. Spectators shouted, “Jump!”
“Stay back, cop.” His tired young eyes showed fear.
“I can help.” I reached out.
He jumped and I grabbed his arm. The law required I enter the shirtsleeve into evidence at the morgue.
Gary Clifton, forty years a cop, has several pieces published or pending with online sites.
Moira dropped the unopened letter from the Gas Board into the bin. She knelt, weary knees aching, to turn up the oven’s temperature dial as she peeked inside. “Filthy.” She wiped away crumbs and debris. House unkempt? Never.
Sorted now, she thought. Her sigh masked the hiss of escaping fumes.
Dawn, a stay at home mum, likes to write as a release for her busy life.
Fending off hordes of little goblins was certainly not her preferred way to start the day.
The buggers quickly swarmed, dragging down her sword arm. Hot breath everywhere, gnashing little forks for teeth. The clank of gate levers could only mean reinforcements. Not good! Not good!
“Welcome to Lincolnville Preschool!”
An amateur writer since the 8th grade, Joseph Knoop is currently attending college & maintaining a weekly review blog in the hopes of one day becoming a journalist for the video gaming industry. Find his work at K.O. JOE.