“Mommy, why you crying?” He interlocks his warm little fingers with mine and squeezes tightly.
I look out the window. It is overtaking the horizon, blocking out the setting sun.
“Because I love you so much.”
“Are we gonna be alright?”
I squeeze back.
“Everything is going to be okay.”
Corey Niles had a 500-word flash fiction published in the fall issue of Eye Contact.
I managed to buy myself an underground bunker just in time for the 2012 end-of-the-world early Christmas party. My guests and I said our prayers, drank our champagne and got ready for the new beginning.
It didn’t happen.
Everyone went home highly disappointed. So much for that stupid Mayan Prophecy!
Olga Klezovitch is a scientist who lives in Seattle. Her previous work has appeared in 50-Word Stories, Necon E-Books, and A Story In 100 Words.
Where cars once drove there is now wilderness, overrun with animals who never used to call this place their home.
The buildings now serve as monuments for a great society forgotten in time.
He stares across the city and listens to it speak, with the realization he is truly alone.
Adam Randall has previously been featured on 50-word stories, and hopes to one day complete some great masterpiece. He just needs to figure out just what that might be.
I like sitting up here in the dark and quiet. Below it’s all noise, light and a smell of confined humanity which makes me nauseous.
I used to go right up and look outside, watch the storms roil in the sky. Now I have to make do with the memories.
Stuart is absent without leave from the majority of life and finds that writing helps him remain that way. He occasionally blogs a story at diamondsanddross.blogspot.com.
There, by the pond, was the prey. Taking careful aim, I killed it instantly.
Ever since the drought three years ago things had been bad. Really bad.
Global warming? More like global meltdown. But survive we had.
Throwing the twitching body of the boy over my shoulder, I headed home.
Tony is 54 and lives in Manchester, UK. He became interested in 50-word stories after helping his son with his homework, and enjoyed the challenge of bringing a story to life in so few words.
Even here in the basement, I still hear the siren wailing in the distance. Mom went with the others to make sure it was safe outside for me.
I’m nine, ten next month, so I wanted to come, but she told me to wait.
That was yesterday.
Where is everyone?
Alexander Scotchfield is a Canadian academic and software developer. He lives in Southern Ontario with his family, including Ulysses, his late night feline writing companion. When he isn’t writing, he can be found writing games, or running in the cool evening hours. See more at scotchfield.com/.
The carousel spun, frozen horses galloping within the abandoned funfair.
She clung to her mount, fingers prying flaking paint away. Dreaming of a heartbeat, the rhythm between hooves and breath.
Tears tracked down her face. She missed horses the most, yet like everything they were gone.
Lost to the plague.
Andrew originates from the UK but lately finds himself drinking black coffee and dodging possums in Brisbane.
War was tough, and we had grown soft. The killing proved too much, and so we did the only logical thing. Create two opposing supercomputers to simulate everything for us.
Except they realised the solution faster than we could imagine, and then it was no longer a simulation. We’d lost.
Nathan Barber is a student currently studying nuclear engineering. Most people who know him well find his choice of study material slightly unnerving given his eagerness to capture the essence of a ‘mad scientist.’
Cliven dove head first into a bush.
He heard snuffling nearby, the sound of a predator searching out its prey.
“Dear Lord,” Cliven prayed, “I know my pet dragon started this whole thing, but… Could you stop the zombies from eating my brain? Please?”
The snuffling stopped.
The zombocalypse didn’t.