I warned them. The book stays locked in the attic for a good reason.
That attic had gathered dust for three generations, weakening the wood and strings of the instruments.
I warned my sons not to play those haunting melodies, not to summon those ghosts, but they did it anyway.
Zack Smith is a Senior English Major at Salem State University. He has been published in the Dead River Review. Zack is an aspiring Book Editor who writes creatively in his spare time.
I wake to familiar tapping on my fingers.
I live with my family of five and seven others. Among the seven are a young girl and a grumpy old man. He says he belongs. She looks for her mum.
No cupboards flapping; it’s not your cliché haunting. This isn’t Hollywood.
Michelle is a freelance writer who writes both fiction and non-fiction. She is a regular contributor to the Briar Crier Magazine and has had her work featured recently in the Voice of the Farmer newspaper and the Focus 50+ newspaper. In April 2016 she was shortlisted as a finalist at the Ontario Writers Conference Story Starters Contest.
His hands are trembling. His vision is blurred.
He’s been quicker than many less fortunate souls, but hasn’t been in practice for years now.
He wonders if age will be his demise. Or rust. Or comfort.
After ten paces, he turns and finds too many faces staring back at him.
Eldar calls California home, where he can watch the sun hide behind the ocean.
Did I forget to tell you about the ghosts in my head? Tonight they found their way into our shared bed.
Let’s hide between the sheets, evading hushed confessions. They whisper of hooligan romps, barefoot shenanigans, and broken-hearted flaunts.
They remind me of me, before you saved my tangled soul.
Sarah Scott writes, works and lives in Canada and hence her hands are usually cold. She warms them by cuddling her husband, holding her children and petting her dog.
“Well, did you see the ghostly, grieving fireman hanging from the ceiling rose last night?” the old B&B landlady teased.
I smiled. “You had me going. I dreamt of two young girls in period nighties whispering ‘Forgive!'”
She paled, and pushed a framed sepia photograph across the table. “My sisters?”
Derry-born author Perry McDaid is internationally published. His poems, stories, reviews, and articles have appeared in diverse magazines, anthologies, and websites. A prize-winner with short stories, poetry, and articles, the Irishman’s work can be found both in hardcopy and online. Recent publications include fifty-word stories at entropy2, fiftywordstories.com, and Beeched in AlfieDog’s Romance anthology By My Side. He has a SF story accepted for publication with Stupefying Stories and his latest indie personal anthology of short stories is String o’ Misery.
The Mastersons wondered if parenting was easier when dead. They agreed it was pleasant observing their boys unseen, but Father preferred chastising in death, believing the boys would only argue anyway, whereas Mother felt she could reason with them if still alive, at which Father laughed. The boys would’ve, too.
Raised in the Deep South by a Catholic Yankee and a Korean Buddhist in a magic shoppe turned comic book store, life was always interesting for Andrea, to say the least. Passionate about reading, writing, and all things comics!
Note: This story is a sequel to The Juggernaut.
“Keep tapping, Piper. They’ll find us.”
Underwater archaeologists, on hearing the tapping, secured a line and brought them up.
At their research facility, staff started opening the craft’s hatch.
The captain smiled. “We’re finally home!”
“Thanks for never giving up, Cap.”
Inside, archaeologists found human remains and a whiskey bottle.
Connell Wayne Regner had successfully avoided writing creatively since he wrote spontaneous lyrics to music many years ago. Although from a linguistic background, he has serendipitously succumbed to fiction after spontaneously creating bedtime stories for his children. His other dabblings can be found at paragraphplanet and wtdmagazine.wordpress.com.
“What do you think?”
“There are definitely ghosts in this house,” the second said.
“It is haunted, for sure,” the first said.
“Let’s get out of here,” the second said.
“Where shall we go?” the first asked.
“To a place that is not haunted,” the second said. “I hate crowds.”
Martin Jaeger has been published or is soon to be published in several print and online magazines. He tries to create imaginative pieces that will intrigue the reader, who will then have a greater appreciation for writers.