Surprised by chill after weeks of scorchers, she holds her bag of groceries to her chest, purchases for a solitary meal.
Two girls skip by, flaunting autumn exuberance, ignoring homework, ignoring regimen and rigor. She alone grieves sweaty embraces, August smells, dreams expired as moderate temperatures and cooler heads return.
Nancy Ludmerer lives in New York City with her husband Malcolm and cat Sandy, named after the storm he fled (right into Nancy’s arms) and Sandy Koufax. Her story “First Night” appears in Best Small Fictions 2016.
He took her for a drive in the countryside, down a gravel road, past forests of red maples and golden oaks. Fading sunshine cast elongated shadows.
No one spoke.
He stopped the car, got out, and looked into her large, illuminated eyes.
“Still the prettiest coupe I know,” he said.
Krystyna Fedosejevs writes poetry, short stories and Flash Fiction. She has had several poems and flash fiction stories published. She is stationed in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, although she loves to travel around the world.
God said, “I give you life!”
The Devil said: “I want more than life!”
Then the sin of pride sent the demon
tumbling like crooked dice
down the stairway to heaven.
One question the Devil still asks:
“Did I fall or was I pushed?”
The fight to know consumes him.
Fred Zackel teaches literature at Bowling Green State University in Ohio. He is the author of COCAINE AND BLUE EYES and MURDER IN WAIKIKI, and these and other writings are available on Kindle.
For one summer, we were best of friends. Autumn undid us, something in the changing colours, the changing winds.
We hardly spoke during tenth grade. Then June arrived. I hoped, childishly, that the sunlight would reunite us.
Life may move in cycles, but you never cross the same river twice.
The genie gave him three wishes.
He wished he could fly.
The genie granted his wish, so he flew and flew and flew.
He wished he could land.
The genie granted his wish, so he fell and fell and fell.
He wished he could survive the fall.
The genie winked.
On Monday, Oliver fell on his face.
On Tuesday, Oliver fell down the stairs.
On Wednesday, Oliver fell on a girl.
On Thursday, Oliver fell in love.
On Friday, Oliver fell into a ring store.
On Saturday, Oliver made it all the way down the aisle without falling even once.
Two men burst through a stained-glass window and plummeted downwards.
One man screamed aloud.
The second man suavely raised an arm and caught the first as a parachute ballooned out of his sleeve.
“You saved me again!” cried Timothy Thicke.
Evan Edgelow smiled. “It’s what I do. Now, run!”