There’s something oddly beautiful about a piece of crumpled up paper. The words lose their meaning and take on texture, melding with other fragments of folded sentences. The words, the one thing you thought still had meaning, are now denatured enzymes—useless. But didn’t you used to love beautiful destruction?
AnnaLise Sandrich lives in California, where she writes for the Redwood Bark. Her work has been published in Short Fiction Break and will soon appear in 101 Words.
It’s not your fault, Son. After all you went through, they still didn’t follow instructions.
“It didn’t work. There’s too much suffering. What can we do?”
Shut it down. Just like I started it 6024 years ago.
And God said, “Let there be no light.”
And there was no light.
Harry Demarest wrote this story.
When that Trickster God
created beings to amuse himself,
He had an eye toward evolution,
but was certain,
whether it involved opposing fingers,
eventually walking on hind feet,
or thinking they got the joke,
whether they did or not,
they would never be free
of the nuisance of bellybutton lint.
After a lifetime of writing, Jackie has embraced the 50-word story as a life form, bringing clarity and concision to the world around her.
The architects studied the plans for the umpteenth time. There was something missing, but what was it?
Gabriel turned the drawings upside down and then Michael turned them sideways. “This won’t work. It will fall apart,” they both agreed.
“Just get on with it,” sighed God. “It’s not that important.”
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.
Step one, turn on the lights. Two, install ceiling.
Three, make something to stand on; add plants.
Four, hang some twinkle lights; five, fill fish tank.
Six, create humanity—no wait.
Crap, this isn’t gonna work.
Maybe a horde of giant lizards is the way to go here.
Occasionally EO wonders if God is ever tempted to wail on the reset button.
God awoke in a restless state. Something was not right yet. God watched Adam and Eve frolicking in the garden. Perhaps one more creature, something simple and resilient, something that would survive the humans if they actually managed to blow everything up.
God slipped two cockroaches under the garden gate.
Robbie Gamble identifies primarily as a poet. When not obsessing about image and line breaks, he works as a nurse practitioner caring for homeless people in Boston, Massachusetts.
A #2 pencil.
Tiny, nervous teeth marks on six sides, identical, yellow paint flaking: sharpen it after forty years, write poems until the marks bite into your fingers, until the pencil nubs, vanishes.
Hold high the words. Declare a miracle: Look! Look what is written by the hand of God!
Larry D. Thacker’s poetry can be found in more than eighty publications including The Still Journal, Poetry South, Mad River Review, The Southern Poetry Anthology, Mojave River Review, Mannequin Haus, Ghost City Press, Jazz Cigarette, and Appalachian Heritage. His books include Mountain Mysteries: The Mystic Traditions of Appalachia and the poetry books Voice Hunting and Memory Train, as well as the forthcoming Drifting in Awe. He’s presently working on his MFA in both poetry and fiction. Visit his website at larrydthacker.com.
It can be difficult, deciding to abandon research, but not in this case. The experiment had produced competing clusters, no cohesive whole.
With regret, He set in motion events that would return the experiment to its starting materials; eastern light began its final crawl down the skyline of New York.
Kevin works in a lab by day and ponders various avocations by night. This is his first submission of anything, anywhere.
The Infinite Spirit tipped Its head back and sighed, puffed out galaxies. Countless images and scents of Imperfection surged through Chaos. The Infinite Spirit lowered Its horns. And then It died.
Traces of Imperfection seared themselves on newborn stars. Those that remained found sanctuary on Earth. The Imperfections became men.
Danny Vagnoni is a highly esteemed writer at Moravian College. His fiction has been performed and published. See more at dannyvagnoni.com.
Swirls. They looked like galaxies. Far away galaxies, of which he was the creator, forming them with his almighty touch. With the same amount of ease, they dissolved, their form vanishing into the next creation. What power, to control worlds with such grace.
He realized his coffee was now cold.
BCTurk is an aspiring short film director/producer and video editor. You can find his work at http://www.youtube.com/BCTurk.