Every year, on the anniversary of the last time he looked into her eyes, he wore the same outfit: a threadbare tweed suit and the ugly necktie she’d always hated. But then, corpses rarely change clothes.
Neither do prisoners, it turned out, because she always wore orange for the occasion.
Michael is a part-time lawyer and a full-time dad. You can read more of his creative writing at timintemecula.wordpress.com.
Ted Henson had just finished up his pitch for his crime thriller masterpiece, Graves, and was waiting to hear the verdict.
A suit walked out and ushered him back in. Another suit started, “We’re sorry, Mr. Henson, but we can’t…”
And then he noticed the gun in Mr. Henson’s hand.
Eric has been writing short stories for around a year.
Five men lined up, all with greasy moustaches and wearing dark blue shirts.
I scanned. Not him. No… No…
I turned to the sergeant beside me. “The last two are identical twins. How am I supposed to tell?”
He shrugged… But then I noticed the thin cuts below his nose.
Joey has never participated in a police line-up. Instead, he prefers to line up some potatoes, peel them one by one, cook them, and then eat them. And he also tries to write a little.
Editor: Joey is the winner of the Moustache Memoirs contest and the $15 Amazon gift card! His story also wins this week’s Story of the Week.
I saw her today and I knew what she was immediately. After some hours of watching her pickpocket unwary airport travelers, I want to meet her and know her.
No one here knows that I’m a predator of a much more dangerous kind, and neither does she as I approach.
is a daydreamer and storyteller. He writes every day, as work and family life allows, of course. He dreams and labors toward the day when he can leave the day job behind and write full time. “Twenty years of schoolin’ and they put ya on the day shift.” It’s true Bob, it’s so true.
I rented a stairway landing.
Eight by six, the price was right.
Roped off a pedestrians’ passway.
Sold my etchings, then clothes,
next blood, one or two kidneys.
I shouldn’t have harvested
that poor man,
but once you buy the
and surgical tools…
Pricing studio apartments
Todd Mercer won the Woodstock Writers Festival’s Flash Fiction contest and took 2nd and 3rd place of the Kent County Dyer-Ives Prizes. His chapbook Box of Echoes won the Michigan Writers Cooperative Press contest. Mercer’s poetry and fiction appears in The Lake, Mobius: The Journal of Social Change, Thema, Blue Collar Review, Right Hand Pointing, Apocrypha & Abstractions, Cease, Cows, Dunes Review and Eunoia Review.
I awoke in the cell, hoping, knowing Tim would come for me. He loved me. No matter what.
Even when I tried to kill the neighbors.
“Kate,” he murmured, stroking my hair, “let’s go home. It’s okay. I fenced in the yard so you can’t chase the neighborhood cats anymore!”
Mary Schermer lives in a small town on the southern shore of Lake Erie and writes short stories for enjoyment.
I never expected this when I left work early.
Two black women’s shoes and a stained blouse create landmarks across a trail of red smears.
“Daddy! I was playing dress up and mommy made chicken’s fingers and I got my own ketchup.”
Smiling, I kiss my daughter’s precious, tomato-covered cheek.
Craig would like to thank the creators of spell check,caffeine,and the English language. He is currently working on a fifty word story that will not use the same word twice.
I was hanging from the ledge because of a clumsy misstep. It was my last case, and most important. I was retiring after twenty years as a detective and five pursuing this man.
He pulled me up and uttered words that changed me forever.
“The game is all I have.”
Thomas Summerson is a daydreamer and storyteller. He writes everyday, as work and family life allows, of course. He dreams and labors toward the day when he can leave the day job behind and write full time. “Twenty years of schoolin’ and they put ya on the day shift” It’s true Bob, it’s so true.
“The world’s your oyster!” they said.
I want to say they lied, pin the blame on anyone but myself, but I can’t.
I could’ve made something of my life. Instead I chose the unthinkable.
He’s been in prison for nine years because of what I did. Six more to go.
Gabrielle Soong is a 17-year-old high schooler and aspiring writer. Besides writing, her favorite things are music, reading, and soccer. She has big plans to travel the world and write novels.
“Good news, Mr. Sloane. I’ve just discovered some fingerprints we originally missed. Once I get these back to the lab, we should be able to positively identify your daughter’s killer.”
The man locked the door, drew his pistol, and said, “Bad news, Detective. I lied about being the victim’s father.”
Alexander Key teaches high school when not leaping tall buildings in a single bound.