One time we sneaked in a dozen birthday cupcakes.
The nurses smiled. Grandpa ate the paper part. I watched him reach for another.
I said, You can’t eat the skins.
He gagged and choked. He was just being a goof. That was grandpa.
He’d eat paper to get a laugh.
Bob Thurber is the author of “Paperboy: A Dysfunctional Novel” and two collections of stories. A celebrated master of Flash and Micro Fiction, his work has appeared in 60 anthologies, received dozens of awards, and been used in schools and colleges throughout the world. He resides in Massachusetts where, though legally blind, he continues to write every day. Visit his website at BobThurber.net.
Between McSwiggan’s and Burke’s is where Mike stands around waiting idly and endlessly for nothing, smelling of old carpets and looking like he’s been lost in the woods since the fifties.
Seventeen years ago his brother gave him two thousand euro and drove off. A solid base to build on.
Patrick Mc Loughlin is an English Language Teacher in Ireland who dabbles in writing. He also dabbles in painting and music and someday hopes to do more than dabble. He lives in the west of Ireland, where it’s hard to concentrate.
Green eyes, curly red hair, Southern dialects and harried husbands.
Between casting calls for cougar roles, Dawn practices her craft at Oklahoma’s small town taverns. Bartenders comp her drinks as bouncers keep lookout for the wives.
“Everyone has a backstory, Sugar. And the night’s just getting started.”
The show begins.
Kim Favors lives on California’s coast with dogchild Jesse.
A memory, as if only yesterday.
This young woman is a metaphor for freedom
her strong hands guide the yacht
she flies over the crests of the ocean
braces against fierce, frigid salt blasts
that strike her windburnt face
over and over
flicking her blond locks into a wild dance
Alice Lam moved to Australia from the UK with her partner and they share a house in Melbourne, along with a cheese-seeking, greying Boxer dog. See more at alicelambooks.com.
Those deep pockets. Filled with safety pins and busy hands. Was Grandmother’s world going to fall apart and it would be up to her to pin it back together?
A safety pin pinched between those closed lips. To keep her from saying that one thing she wasn’t supposed to say?
Julie Eger is a massage therapist who writes fiction and poetry in her spare time. Her work has appeared in various anthologies including Anchala Studio’s The Collection: Flash Fiction for Flash Memories and Inner Circle Writers’ Group FlashPoint Anthology 2018 as well as other online journals.
We’re city rats, but we don’t hustle too hard. As long as we have rent control, we can share an apartment. I’ll hand write notes for you to find, like,
Let’s have an aesthetic when we’re old
rock & rollers never dead
or retired jungle botanists
Let’s be insufferable together
Alyson Fortowsky writes and teaches in Toronto.
At twelve years old, she stood twelve feet tall. Her horns added another ten inches. The shaggy hair on her face and chest was thick and uncombed. Flies teased around her head like dark memories, darting in to nestle on her shoulders. She never allowed me to brush them away.
Mark Farley (mumbletoes.blogspot.com
) writes novels, flash fiction and the occasional poem.
He comes to the jam most Sunday nights,
This gentle, unassuming man, carrying his
Note for note, played or sung, pitch perfect and
resonating with feeling.
But it is the hugs he gives so generously and effortlessly,
full of kindness, that seem like music
and feel like love.
Ellen lives in Maine and plays at the jam.
I remember an Uncle
sitting on our swing
he was three axe handles
across the behind,
the swing only one.
It looked unpleasant
rope cutting into his skin like that.
He didn’t seem to notice
kept on talking, smoking
pushing his feet into the dirt
till mom called him in.
Marjorie is from Michigan, now living in Maine. She is a painter with a consuming passion to write.
Celebrating Great Ermina’s 98 years of life,
The Mariachis sang the song of the Dead
Father Hector harmonized during the mass
Her children chimed praises for their inherited wealth,
Eulogizing her sly charms that built a fortune
No guilt, just secrets and a final confession…
Her haunting fear of Purgatory.
Carole Nese enjoys reading people and writing fiction, creative non fiction, editorial prose, and sometimes poetry. She belongs to a group of great writers, is challenged by them weekly, and credits them in part for her motivation and inspiration.