Ummm, my favorite part of the day is when I colored on the table.
I touch things with my yucky hands.
I spill milk on my sister’s bed.
Listen to your Mom and Dad and listen to policemans or else they’re gonna put you in jail and don’t get cavities.
This story was written by three-year-old Chase Sciacchitano. He told his mother that he will win and she will not. (Mommy hasn’t submitted yet. She’s not sure she can compete!)
The kitten sinks its teeth into my leg for the millionth time.
It ignores me.
“I was gonna give you a cool name, but from now on you’ll be called Princess Fluffylumps the Third!”
The male kitten blinks.
“Don’t push me. Or the glittery pink collar is next.”
E.O. is making a first attempt at a humorous fiction novelette called Id/entity, which, if it doesn’t suck, might actually see the light someday on Amazon Kindle. If not, EO will probably make some nice origami, or a LOT of paper footballs.
I think about his freckles sometimes.
One under his eye, two on his cheek, and twenty-six on the bridge of his nose. I get hung up on the three on his lips. They were my freckles. I claimed them every day.
They’re still there. But they have a new owner.
Carly Huss lives with her boyfriend and dog in Lewisville, Texas.
Charlie and Mable hadn’t been on a date in years; their 32-year marriage felt lifeless. To rekindle things, Charlie called up a favorite restaurant from their youth.
“I’d like a reservation for 7:00 tonight for Mabel and Charlie Williamson.”
“Well, alright. Is this replacing the reservation Mable made for 6:00?”
Robert Russell is an English Education major at Black Hills State University.
People usually covered their ears, or skipped the aviary altogether. Oddly, the squawking didn’t phase the little girl or her mother. They smiled, admiring the large, colorful birds.
The zookeeper wondered how anyone could tolerate such obnoxious shrieking when suddenly the child lifted her tiny hands and signed, “Pretty feathers.”
Pontius Paiva is loud and colorful. And although he probably belongs in a cage, he’s flying high at pontiuspaiva.com
It was Christmas Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve (December 17th). Emily crossed the softball diamond in the snow, to where Sister Amy had had a tooth loosened by somebody’s loose ball in autumn.
“I’m fine!” she’d told them, face in hand.
Secretly Emily practiced alone until spring.
John Gabriel Adkins is a Pushcart-nominated writer of microfiction, anti-stories and other oddities, and is a member of the Still Eating Oranges arts collective. This year his work has appeared (or is forthcoming) in Literary Orphans, SPANK the CARP, Five 2 One, Sick Lit Magazine, The Sleep Aquarium, and more.
I only married her to get citizenship, paid 15 grand and thought that was it. Then I couldn’t forget her.
She once asked me if I liked blondes or brunettes and I said, “Any colour, as long as she smiles like you.”
Five years later we got married for real.
Connell writes again.
Pinched between sweaty fingers, the love note—a carefully crafted purple-inked questionnaire that would potentially determine the rest of their lives—was passed to the blonde in front of him. She firmly marked “No.”
“Okay,” he sighed, erasing the dark X of rejection. “Well, would you pass this to Julia?”
This is Alexandra’s eighth fifty-word story. She learned early on that love was a numbers game, but the good news is that you only need one.
After two years longing for her love, finally she loved him back. Their last encounter was really painful:
“Are you leaving?” she asked.
“Yes. Would you give me a kiss?”
And so she did.
He stared at her picture and sighed. His little toddler niece was turning three in April.
José Jaime is a Spanish guy who misses his nieces.
Emilia passionately claimed that everyone she loved didn’t love her, and vice versa. She knew that true love was tricky, rather like a sort of magic.
Then one day, quite inexplicably, Emilia met Fred. He was busking on a street corner and just happened to pull rabbits out of hats.
Linda is a teacher from Sydney, Australia, who has had plays go from page-to-stage and poems published in both Hemispheres. Once upon a time, she was invited to the same function as Ben Stiller.