Mustering her dignity, she says to the amused maître d’ – “I don’t usually produce crackers from my person”.
They regard the salty rectangle on the tastefully tiled floor, recently evacuated from her folded coat.
He runs appreciative eyes over her. “I’m just waiting to see if there will be cheese.”
Jordana Connor is a long-time scribbler and fledgling submitter of short stories and flash fiction. She enjoys excruciatingly bad puns, delicious swear words, and the Oxford comma. She lives in Brisbane.
Ponder I, alone: “What brought me here?”
The wind says nothing.
“What force?” cry I.
“God?” I wait for any answer.
“Nothing, then,” ponder I, alone. No fate steered my course. I chose this path.
I turn away to family dinner. How I despise political turkey.
Andrew is an unpublished fiction writer in the Washington area. In his spare time he enjoys pens, pads, word processors and pudding.
The waiter set their plates down on the table. He said, “Enjoy your meal.”
The man replied, “Thank you.”
As the waiter turned to leave, the man added, almost without thinking, “Goodbye.”
When they got home, the man was still thinking about that.
Several months later, he still can’t stop.
Spencer Chou is a writer and editor from Nottingham, England. He runs the literary magazine and publisher The Nottingham Review, and his writing has been published in various places. In 2016 he was shortlisted for the Bath Flash Fiction Award. You can follow him on Twitter at @spencerchou.
It was one of our last meals together. She’d fixed pork chops the way I liked: plain, fried, with onions, in an old iron skillet.
How could I tell her I’d miss her? “Whenever I see a pork chop, I’ll think of you.”
Once again, she gave me that look.
Norman Gin is a novice at writing and this is his very first attempt at a 50-word story.
We waited silently in the dark. I stilled myself to the mood so it wouldn’t be broken. The moment of expectation drew close, and tension hung like bar smoke. Others fidgeted, rustled, imagined.
You slipped into the room unannounced.
We sprang from cover. “Surprise!”
You were naked.
It was awkward.
Gordon Lysen resides in Manitoba, Canada, and spends his time between the city of Winnipeg and his true home at Sugar Point on Lake Manitoba. Retired from police work after some 27 years, Gordon co-authored the novel “A Deadly Blend of Souls” with his wife, Lisa. Writing and painting are Gordon’s relaxation methods when retirement becomes too stressful.
I never called them stupid for marrying. That wasn’t in my speech. I was drunk but I remember exactly what I said before somebody yanked the microphone away. I said he was a couple rides short of a carnival and that her sewing machine had obviously run out of thread.
Over the years Bob Thurber’s work has received a long list of awards and prizes. His most recent book is a collection of brief stories titled “Nothing But Trouble”. Visit BobThurber.net.
I should’ve shaved my legs, I think as my neighbor invites me in. Or worn pants.
He smiles. “Care for a drink?”
“No, thanks,” I say. “Just the phone.” I avoid his gaze and pull my bathrobe tight.
Then I call my roommate and explain how I locked myself out.
Crystal Moore doesn’t like to reveal much about herself, which is why she won’t be found working the pole at a strip club. However, she can be found dividing her time between the realm of her imagination and North Carolina’s Coastal Plain region. Her publication credits include humorous greeting card copy, children’s short stories, and flash fiction.
Her hand glances mine as she hands me the money.
Was it intentional? What was that look? What should I do next? “Eleven cents is your change.”
“Thank you,” she responds.
Was the eye contact just to be cordial? “Have a nice day.”
I meant it. Did you?
M.T. Nagel, a writer from the back woods of New Jersey, is fueled by tea and the great unknown.
“I’ve broken it off.”
“What do you mean, you’ve broken it off? She was the best thing that ever happened to you. I loved her too, if the truth be known. You’re such an idiot! I have a mind to…”
“I mean I’ve broken the tip off my pen.”
Connell Wayne Regner had successfully avoided writing creatively since he wrote spontaneous lyrics to music some years ago. Although from a linguistic background, he has serendipitously succumbed to fiction. His other dabblings can be found at paragraphplanet and wtdmagazine.wordpress.com.
He asked jokingly, but with accusation. “Is that why you unfriended me?”
My feet held my attention. I couldn’t lie. “I just couldn’t watch you be happy with her anymore.”
“I wanted to keep you in my life.”
“I tried… Really.”
“Then I’ll try to forgive you.” He walked away.
Tiffany Robbins was born in Kettering, Ohio, to Johnny and Cathy Lee. She moved around a lot throughout her youth, but mainly kept to the Midwest where she still resides. She attended most of her elementary years and all of her high school years in Tarkio, Missouri, which she still considers to be her home town and one of the greatest places on Earth. It is a small town where everyone knows everything and they have no idea how much of a gem they have. Tiffany went to a community college and holds an associate degree in Computer Programming, but found out that her passions lie elsewhere. She loves working with computer graphics and will do anything that gives her a creative outlet. She married Cameron E. Robbins in 2003, and remains happily by his side. They keep pet rats, which are the love of their lives, and a pet dog named Waylan.