Location: empowering laguna
Where you can see the world.
A beauty resembling
a beach of the past.
Powerful pops pulsate past the timberline.
Banjos sound on a stranger’s radio.
In their tent, light above shakes,
With the slowly
Stilling momentum borne from
Love, that vibrant lightness,
Those lavender fingers.
J. of Newark is a custodian at his local library and writes fiction for fun.
I am crouching in rain, snapping spruce twigs to place them on my infant fire. He hadn’t checked my pockets, had missed the flint when he stole my gear.
Larger sticks next. First focus on defying death by hypothermia; then get my knife and his gun, and kill my husband.
Rosemary Bush is a scientist and writer living in Chicago. Some of her work can be found at rosemarybush.org.
“See, we don’t need much to be happy together!” he smiled, setting up the tent.
Was he kidding? I longed for a cup of cappuccino, an episode of Project Runway, and an afternoon nap on my leather couch. “Love you,” I smiled back, digging my nails into my own palm.
Debbi Antebi (@debbisland) lives in Istanbul, Turkey, and blogs at debbiantebi.com.
Grand Prize Winner: “Artistic” Category
“Summer camp, backyard, or wherever; who’s camped overnight in a tent?”
A virtual forest of hands sprang up in the crowded classroom. After hesitating briefly, the foreign exchange student raised her hand, as well.
“You’ve stayed in a tent?” Mrs. Saunders asked her.
“Yes,” Maria said.
“After the earthquake.”
John H. Dromey has had a short story published in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, a mini-mystery in Woman’s World, plus fiction online at Liquid Imagination, Mysterical-E, and elsewhere.
Grand Prize Winner: “Amusing” Category
We’re a feral family. Live out in the woods.
The kids begged for a picnic.
We gathered some tubers and roots and headed for the nearest subdivision.
Found a house with nobody home. Spread out our picnic on the dining room table.
Little Susie saw a cockroach bug and shrieked.
Joe Malone is living in a mud hut in South Sudan. Read more from him at http://joem18b.wordpress.com/.
Runner-Up 2: “Artistic” Category
“…The rusty axe still dripping blood.” An unexpected campfire pop startles us. We laugh.
“Time for bed, everyone. More stories tomorrow,” I say.
Later in my tent, I lie awake.
What was that?
Only forest sounds, but still foreboding.
All the kids are sleeping, except the one inside of me.
Alexander Key teaches high school when no one is looking.
Runner-Up 1: “Amusing” Category
“The stars are looking positively wonderful tonight.”
“Indeed they are! Couldn’t have hoped for a clearer night for a spot of stargazing!”
“You know, there’s a lot you can learn from looking at stars.”
“You mean like navigation?”
“That, and the fact that someone seems to have stolen our tent!”
Following the completion of his degree, Nathan Barber is now reading as many sci-fi novels as he can, to find the perfect doomsday machine to make best use of his skills as a nuclear engineer.
We’d packed that hatchback so full of clothing, food, and camping gear that we could hardly buckle our seatbelts. We had no plan but “Go”, no destination but “Good times”.
We put the car in gear, and
BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM!!
all four tires burst simultaneously.
We were lost in the enchanted woods.
“Some shortcut, Krayg!” Tixen’s green eyes flashed.
“Relax,” I said. “Krayg, find some kindling. Night’s coming.”
We huddled close around the flames.
“Now,” I said, “a spell to read the stars… Where did my wand go? Krayg, what did you use for kindling?”
This story was based on the prompt “in the woods” at TypeTrigger.
“Let’s go camping!”
“In the back yard?”
“In the forest!”
“Will there be cell reception?”
“I hope not!”
“What if I break my back and you need to call an ambulance?”
“Then I’ll euthanize you.”
“Will you use cyanide?”
“Whatever you prefer, hon.”
Unfortunately, he forgot the cyanide.