they are going to vote ‘guilty’
and she refuses to believe
the new procedures are fair
nervous as she ascends the podium
unfolding her statement – she is not
convinced that bias has been eliminated
a dozen people deliberating in a room
is better than
a million poised behind smartphone screens
Note: Now read the story from the last line through to the first!
Alanah Andrews is an English teacher in Australia. She is the author of “Beyond,” A Short Story Collection of twisted tales, ghosts, aliens, murder, and “beyond.” You can follow her at facebook.com/alanahandrewsauthor.
The knock at the door came sooner than she expected. Two police officers looking concerned. Seems her boyfriend Tommy was found dead in a ditch. With damage to her car and blood on the hood, they wanted to know her whereabouts last night.
“I wasn’t cheating” was all she said.
NT Franklin writes after his real job hoping one day to have it be his real job. He writes cozy mystery short stories, nostalgia short stories, and Flash Fiction. When not reading or writing short stories, you might find him fishing or solving crossword puzzles. His work has been published in Fiction on the Web, Madswirl, Postcard Shorts404 Words, Scarlet Leaf Review, Freedom Fiction, Burrst, Entropy, Alsina Publishing, Fifty-word stories, among others.
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.