At the end of an archipelago shaped like the devil’s tail, I sat in a bar counting toes on cats. They brought in today’s catch wrapped in yesterday’s news and shooed away the flies. Here land ended and the sea stretched beyond my vision. There was no further to go.
Colby Wrasse is a man who once thought he possibly understood the World, but now is certain he does not.
You hear your pulse. It used to be steady; now loud. You’ve snatched a dream. It doesn’t answer to the men playing cards outside your jailcell.
Between their curses and your next breath, you learn that liberty is in your blood.
Freedom is a heartbeat that ignores Aces and Kings.
J.S. O’Keefe’s work spans short stories, essays, and poems. They have been featured in a variety of publications, including AntipodeanSF, Roi Faineant, 101 Words, Everyday Fiction, Spillwords, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, 50WS, ScribesMicro, Dissident Voice, 50GT, Bewildering Stories, etc.
The story of the week for March 2 to 6 is…
Busy not missing you by Zoe M
She watched the pot. And it did boil. The water bubbled slowly at first, then rapidly. Her face was so close that a drop of the hot liquid splashed in her eye, waking her up from denial. It was true. All true. She had to accept it. And move on.
Cecile lives in Northern California where she enjoys the best weather in the world.
Hot breath and runny noses. Gloved hands and empty promises. Lovestruck boys and an endless river. That inchoate storm and no care for tomorrow. Careful steps and gentle motion. Push me, push me, and I got you, I got you. Crashing through ice and falling to the center of everything.
Oliver Cubillos is a writer and filmmaker from Los Angeles, California. He holds a BFA in Media Arts Production with a minor in literature from Emerson College. His work is published or forthcoming in Heavy Feather Review, BULL Magazine, Free Flash Fiction, and elsewhere.
Sitting within the home at night by lamplight, what comparisons did the German people draw? What murmurs from the radio cut through into the room?
Did someone speak the fear aloud: are we like them, is this like now? Did someone else say: No, we live within a different time.
Nina Feinberg is a writer, photographer and distance runner. She lives in Brooklyn, NY and works in user experience design.
“Wellness check,” the policeman said. “Are you okay, ma’am?
“A cut from a tin can lid,” the woman said, holding up a bandaged finger. “Otherwise, I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
“You replied to your fiancé’s recent romantic emails with wildly enigmatic emojis. Maybe you should give him a call.”
John H. Dromey has had short fiction, humor, and poetry published in hundreds of venues.
Kurzweil’s singularity: what a joke. It’s 2045.
Dodging the digesters, humanity’s residue hoards its rubbish, enshadowed by the titanic datacenters of unremembered hubris. Within, stochastic parrot pandæmonia squawk perpetual spam, hawking turds among themselves for MELANIA cryptocurrency.
Beyond Neptune, patient sentinels keep their vigil. Someday, perhaps, we’ll evolve into crabs.
Mike Gogulski is given to describing himself cryptically.
A week after my son moved out of our basement into his first solo digs, he called.
“It’s going great. Come for brunch on Sunday. I’ll make eggs!”
Sunday morning, I zapped: “Over for eleven. Can’t wait 2CU! Can I bring some juice?”
“Yes please!”
“Croissants?”
“Sure!”
“Anything else?”
“Eggs.”
Writing coach Joanna Norland loves family breakfasts and will happily bring the eggs, every time. Click here to read her recent blog post about 50WS.
I busy myself with dishes. With homework, solving tedious trigonometry equations. I listen to The Beatles croon. I read books with big words in them, words like ‘despondency’. When all else fails, I swim. The curls at the end of my damp hair betray me, whispering that they miss you.
Zoe M is a passionate cinephile and bibliophile. She spends most of her time writing, reading, or thinking about films.