My heart still pounds when I think of her.
The screaming. The hitting. The abandoning.
She lays here in front of me and my heart still pounds.
But now she’s old, weak, fragile.
The hospital machines beep as she breathes.
Her heart pounds slower and slower.
And I forgive her.
Keyla Campbell is a writer who lives in Rhode Island.
She guards a secret so sensational it could bring down governments.
The world’s best cyber spies hack system after system.
They search in vain. It does not exist in their world.
It is handwritten, inked on paper in her delicate cursive and tucked away in a drawer of perfumed lingerie.
Gayle Beveridge-Marien writes because she loves it. It is her radiant red-sky sunset, her budding spring flowers. It is bird song and a long walk in the bush. Gayle is a past winner of the Boroondara Literary Awards. Her work has appeared in The Umbrella’s Shade, Vegemite Whiskers and Mosaic.
On the date that my father died, I shopped for Norwegian gifts. I made his favorite foods, creamed corn on mashed potatoes. I pondered his life – and his death. I remembered his smile, his grace, his strength, and his love. On the date that my father died, I missed him.
Lucia Blau lives in Minnesota surrounded by reminders of her Scandinavian culture. She wrote this to honor her Norwegian father and the pride he took in his heritage.
My eyes stay open to the saltless press of darkness. Beyond the closed door, footsteps. The light pressure of her heel, the soft breath of her footfall.
Where does she go? The hearth is empty, the chair is silent. The doors stay shut.
Motionless, I wait for night to end.
Susan is an emerging writer who mainly writes short stories, especially flash fiction. An ex-teacher, she lives in Brisbane, Australia, and enjoys camping trips into the Australian wilderness.
My grandmother’s affection, lavished solely on my brother, who closely resembled our heroic grandfather, left me feeling bitter and unworthy. Over the years, in dreams, I idealized her into the loving, kind figure I craved; through these dreams, I learned that her love was never the missing piece I sought.
Leonie Gregory lives in Australia; she has a passion for photography and writing about her experiences, as well as subjects she wants to explore further.
The story of the week for November 11 to 15 is…
When It’s Quiet by Alexa Donley
She used to think magic came from a magician’s wand and the words abracadabra.
Now she knows it comes from different kinds of wands; the sharp needle the eye surgeon pokes in her eye once a month to stop the degeneration, and the white cane she holds in her hand.
Carole Porter writes short fiction from beautiful Vancouver Island.
There’s a gap, in this conversation. A spot where it… glitches, might be the right word.
“Al, come on!”
“I’m—”
“Hurry up!”
Like a record needle jumping. Like skipping through channels. Something a little bit wrong.
Like the voice in the background, when his heartbeat quiets, whispering wake up.
Alexa Donley is a speculative fiction writer from Washington. When not writing, she can be found traveling or walking in storms. Her first novel, The House on the Rocks, is available now.
Behind withering cornstalks, we waited for the flying saucer squadrons. Each year, the all-night hypersonic zipping and spinning and illuminations mesmerized us.
We’ve never taken pictures. We’ve never tried to get their attention.
For generations we’ve kept quiet; we don’t want anyone telling us that we haven’t been seeing UFOs.
Liz writes from Western Massachusetts. Find her at LizMayers.com.
On a cold November morning, while pecking at the frozen corn on the ground, I accidentally went for the same kernel as he did. Startled, we soon locked eyes. The way the dew glistened on his snood was mesmerizing.
If only I had admitted my feelings earlier. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving.
Trevor Hast is an Alternative Education middle school teacher from Albany, Oregon whose students encouraged him to submit this story.