Rage thrust brush through canvas.
A puncture through three days’ work: portrait of she who had gathered her stuff while he slept. Gone… yet she persisted like thallium poisoning.
Almost serenely he deposited the brush – loaded with the colour of his crappy life – beside the open tube of Prussian Blue.
Irish writer Perry McDaid lives in Derry under the brooding brows of Donegal hills which he occasionally hikes in search of druidic inspiration. He even finds it on occasion.
The knock at the door came sooner than she expected. Two police officers looking concerned. Seems her boyfriend Tommy was found dead in a ditch. With damage to her car and blood on the hood, they wanted to know her whereabouts last night.
“I wasn’t cheating” was all she said.
NT Franklin writes after his real job hoping one day to have it be his real job. He writes cozy mystery short stories, nostalgia short stories, and Flash Fiction. When not reading or writing short stories, you might find him fishing or solving crossword puzzles. His work has been published in Fiction on the Web, Madswirl, Postcard Shorts404 Words, Scarlet Leaf Review, Freedom Fiction, Burrst, Entropy, Alsina Publishing, Fifty-word stories, among others.
I planted it in dark soil, watered it with tears of anger and hate. It grew around my heart and twisted round my soul. Ebony thorns tore wounds that no one could see. Inside I was bleeding. At last a dark rose bloomed. The scent of bitterness filled me completely.
David likes gardening and writing 50-word stories. He has most recently had work published in Helios QUarterly, Gnu Magazine, The Machinery, Three Drops From the Cauldron, Summer Fling – Tales of Seduction, Short Tale 100, Blink-Ink, and 50-Word Stories.
“I’ll never hurt you.”
Forgetting the promises made in whispered words.
Her mind refused to accept the end,
As her fingers refused to let go
Of the knife plunged into his chest.
She willed him to breathe,
To tell her again that their love was real…
But how could he?
Joya Williams is married and a mother of 2 beautiful girls. She loves writing in her spare time (and if you’re a parent you are laughing at that comment right now). She writes short stories and is currently working on her first novel (with all that spare time she has).
I escape the house and run, crying, into the backyard. Examining hand-shaped bruises on my small body, I notice an anthill. Yesterday, I watched these ants a long time. Today is different. Raging, I stomp the anthill flat. Ants scurry in panic and writhe in pain.
It doesn’t help much.
Sam Gem is a writer of flash fiction, short stories, and maybe a novel someday. He resides in upstate New York.