Her palate was broader than her father’s. On her thirteenth birthday she ate the entire cake. But she’d still not spoken. Too much sky up here?
I led her to the nearest cave and she clattered inside with a thunderous, visceral bellow. I feared it was the sound of hope.
Tamsin and Mark Farley decided to write sequels to each other’s most recent 50-word stories. This is a sequel to Fostering the Minotaur’s Daughter
At twelve years old, she stood twelve feet tall. Her horns added another ten inches. The shaggy hair on her face and chest was thick and uncombed. Flies teased around her head like dark memories, darting in to nestle on her shoulders. She never allowed me to brush them away.
Mark Farley (mumbletoes.blogspot.com
) writes novels, flash fiction and the occasional poem.
“Get a switch,” Mamaw said. “A good one or you’ll be sorry.”
My five-year-old mind is already sorry but doesn’t know why, like my dog who peed inside but got his beating hours later. I’m ashamed that I don’t remember.
It better be a good switch: from child to adult.
John Atkins is a Renaissance curmudgeon, retired from corporate America, who spends days writing for himself and watching birds eat dried mealworms on the front stoop. He also edits a local quarterly magazine and is working on his first science fantasy novel.
You were the tomboy next door. We played children’s games: raced, wrestled, bickered. One day, suddenly, you were grown up. Poised, complicated, spellbinding.
You left for the city. Texted me that you were in love.
I suppose we’d known each other too long and too well ever to be lovers.
Alex’s story is what it is.
The world below is screened by cloud. Above, the sun is glowing.
He faces emptiness, then overcomes his fright,
And like a stone is falling.
He counts… A jolt! The canopy’s unfolded! He’s soaring… And smiling broadly as he touches land.
He jumped a boy and landed as a man.
Victor is native Russian, and English is his second language. He lives in St.Petersburg, Russia, and by now he has had two pieces published on FiftyWordStories.com.
Adalyn climbed up her father’s lap for a game of “hop, hop to Boston”. Her father was the strongest man alive and she loved him “the morst”.
“Watch out my little girl!” he sang as she squealed.
But she never fell in: she flew from his lap all grown up.
Damian Sebouhian is a freelance writer, playwright and English tutor living in Northern California. He misses the rain.
The boy who hated Dick and Dora
And found writing difficult
Now writes books
The boy who kicked against authority
And school discipline
Now commands a lecture hall
The boy who “failed” the 11+
Went on to prove himself
And became a professor
This boy will always be my boy
Ann Sangwin is a retired teacher, now a career grandmother. She has written all her life but until recently has not thought of submitting for publication. She lives in Kent and is part of a writing group, which has changed her life.
I set the small slide down and settled nearby.
She climbed, slid down, climbed, slid again.
On her fourth climb, she stopped and said, “Thank you, Mama.”
A first; I had not expected spontaneous gratitude to appear as a cognitive milestone, or to bring me to tears when it did.
Patrice St. James
writes creative nonfiction. She is from California, but lives in Massachusetts with her husband and daughter, where she enjoys most of the seasons.
“I want to see it.”
“Are you sure?”
She frowned at the sticky red placenta in the blue plastic pan.
Could the newborn see it? He eyed the afterbirth and sighed a breath of apathy towards his now-lifeless life-support.
She couldn’t know he’d eventually feel the same about her.
Liz Lambson is a Jane of all trades who might write you a song about painting with cross-stitched sheet music propped on a hand-carved wooden stand. She does things like this when she’s not watching her kids.
It must have been hard on you, Mother, when I grew
long and lanky and all legs, my waist no longer waif-like.
Gone was your living doll to dress and display, your frilly
designs now silly on gangly me. Such a cruel trick
my thickening, adolescent body played on you.
Deanna Morris is an MFA graduate of Butler University with multiple publishing credits.