Thursday, my sponsor says, surrender works.
Friday’s dealer says it too.
Saturdays, my therapist says addiction is a disease.
Sunday, the priest says it’s a sin.
Monday’s doctor says it’s genetic.
Tuesday, Mom says I’m killing her.
Wednesday’s mirror tells the truth:
I’ll believe whoever makes this feeling go away.
Paul D’Arcy tells stories. All real. Most brief. You can read more at pauldrc.com.
Our department is full of doors and people knock on them when they need something. It’s how the score gets decided. The more people need your things, the more you get points. I take pills so I don’t know I’m losing. When I take them, the score looks more even.
Robert Hoekman Jr is an anti-writer of inexplicable texts.
Unlike literature, some obsessions are far from romantic. Insatiable hunger. Unquenchable thirst. Such appetites hurt. A constant needling, waiting to be fixed. That’s what it is to be an addict. Late night, out to score, I bump into someone who’s carrying. Smiling now; my teeth, as sharp as any syringe.
Steven Holding lives in the United Kingdom. Most recently, his work has appeared in TREMBLING WITH FEAR YEAR FIVE from HorrorTree.com. You can follow his work at www.stevenholding.co.uk.
Mum was a kite, always flying high on some substance or another.
Dad tried to control the kite, regardless of how strong the storm was blowing, always unsuccessfully trying to reel her in.
And I was the string. Always tense and frequently tangled. Trapped between the kite and its maker.
Sally Sadasivam is a doctor by day and amateur flash fiction writer by night.
At the departure gate,
the boys hugged you goodbye,
their eyes dry,
the way innocence clings to possibility.
You told me you felt broken,
needed to find yourself,
stop confusing
white powder with devotion,
alcohol with wanting.
Seasons have passed,
fallen leaves,
then snow,
your words preserved in the soil.
Melissa Williams has a Master of Arts in Creative and Critical Writing from the University of Gloucestershire and recently completed a mentorship under author David Bergen at the Humber School for Writers. Her fiction has appeared or is forthcoming in Voices, 42 Stories and Academy of Heart and Mind. Prior to becoming disabled, her second home was at Torstar’s community newspaper division where she led an advertising sales team and built life-long friendships. She lives near the beach, in Toronto, with her two sons and their Siamese cat.
I don’t think about you anymore.
Okay, sometimes in dreams. Okay, maybe for an hour or two after I wake up. Okay, maybe just before bed, just to make sure you’re not there when I close my eyes.
I don’t write about you either.
This is definitely the last time.
H. A. Piacentino is a writer based in Glasgow, Scotland. His work appears here and there. You can find him on Twitter at @h_a_piacentino.
It hasn’t stopped raining for four long days.
Carl’s eyes are red-rimmed, his face a bloated mess.
“I can’t do this much longer,” he cries.
“You’re doing great,” I assure him but right now—and I’m not ashamed to admit this—I hate him. We’ve been here before. Seven times.
Eszter Molnar is a former teacher who lives by the windswept British seaside with her partner and two children. She has been published in one of the UK’s biggest subscription magazines for children. By day she cleans up after preschoolers. By night she writes picture books and middle grade fiction.
They stopped legally selling candy cigarettes because it encouraged smoking in minors. The problem was, I was already going through two packs a day. Now I meet shady kids on the playground who sell them at a premium from inside their overcoats.
I wish I’d never chewed that first stick.
Shawn D. Brink has four novels and many shorter works to his name. For more, please visit shawnbrinkauthor.wordpress.com. Shawn is represented by Liverman Literary Agency and lives in Nebraska, USA.
The needle pierces my worn-out vein. A schism opens between mind and body, thoughts and deeds; widens as I tumble into chaos, search for your eyes in those that turn away. Waves of light bear down on me. Blasts of sound. My head meets the pavement. And there you are.
Jayne Martin lives in Santa Barbara, California. She is a Pushcart, Best Small Fictions, and Best Microfictions nominee, and a recipient of Vestal Review’s VERA award. Her collection of microfiction, “Tender Cuts,” from Vine Leaves Press, is available now through all online book sellers. See more at jaynemartin-writer.com.
She grappled with the creature – bulky, clawed – for only a matter of minutes before its eyes lit up with recognition. It turned and softly padded away. She watched it recede as the sun crept through the blind then got up to check it had gone. She spoke the mantra victoriously.
Veronica Barnsley’s writing has been published in Brittle Star and Like the Wind. She’s enjoying having a go at microfiction.