Melancholy clung to him like skin. An abusive father, a difficult childhood.
Into his cloud of sadness, she walked in. His silver lining.
The sun was just melting the cloud when death snatched her away.
A new cloud of sorrow. The tiny baby in his arms, his new silver lining.
Tejaswinee Barua is an Engineer by profession and a writer by choice. Visit Tejaswinee’s blog
“Missing in action. Presumed dead.” Five words that extinguished hope and shattered my heart. It was the presumption that did it.
Days, weeks, and months passed. Acceptance would not come. Pain increased.
The doorbell cut across my tortured reverie. There stood Teddy, my son.
My knees buckled. They presumed wrong!
Linda Pottinger has had numerous, diverse articles published in national, regional, and local magazines, trades journals, and hobbyist magazines. She has self-published two books, an autobiography and an anthology of poetry. She has recently engaged in writing short fiction stories and hopes to expand into script-writing in the near future.
Poised between fog city and oblivion, he spat and stepped off the railing. Regret hit hard, and too late.
The unforgiving bay knocked him cold, a goner, except for the nearby trawler crew who fished him onboard—gasping, now knowing what to live for every day: friendly smiles, and breakfast.
Kathy Myers finds these 50-word stories a challenge, but fun, much like her 24 years working on a San Francisco locked psych unit.
Lying on her bed, Bella could finally move her legs; flexing and testing their strength, she waved an arm with glee.
When they held a mirror to her face, she gurgled.
“That’s right, Bella,” said the brain surgeon.
Bella’s children sat quietly nearby. They hoped she would recover fully.
Margaret McGoverne is currently writing her first full length novel, while being distracted by short stories, flash fiction and her blog about all things writing.
It’s hard understanding what a child feels about losing a loved one. She’d waited by the window for days, watching the racing rain droplets.
Now, the first beautiful day since it happened. Blue suburban sky, bright sunshine.
She smiled as she looked up, seeing the criss-crossing of aeroplanes’ vapour trails.
Jon is from the North West of England and works in local government, but has a background in Newspaper Journalism. He is currently enjoying writing for fun and experimenting with short written forms.
She had hidden her face, backed against the wall. I walked near her and she quickly withdrew behind her mom, holding onto her fingers.
I was a stranger to her, but she was my daughter.
Her mom nodded assuringly, as hello became the hardest word I ever had to say.
Christal Knight is waiting for that refreshing random breeze that happens on a warm, sunny day.
Walter emptied the urn into the Grand Canyon.
They’d planned to retire and travel. Now Ruth flew solo: her particles frolicked between sun and shade, lingering to say goodbye before their exodus.
He shuffled back to the truck and pondered the drive home to Minnesota—then steered south towards Phoenix.
Joe Lunne wrote this story.
The dark, silent bleakness of depression crushes me, as it always does, burying me under its massive form. Those who love and cherish me dig and dig and dig, always searching, never giving up, none of them willing to abandon me.
If only I were able to care as much.
Gina Giannetti is a writer-in-training looking to add the ideas swirling around in her head to the world of fantasy fiction. She lives on Long Island and is an administrative assistant by day.
Queenie, fifteen, had two teeth, no claws, and had never been outside. Yet daily, on the table by the window, she patiently watched the birds.
One Christmas a startled bird flew in when the door opened, straight at Queenie who was ready and expecting. Christmas dinner and life dream manifested!
Kevin McManus is a wannabe writer and successful daydreamer who doesn’t believe in coincidences but does believe that we create our own reality, just as his old cat Queenie did.
“Jimmy, keep practicing that paradiddle, loud and in time.” It was up to the boy now. Dave lay back exhausted.
The boy banged that hollow log, eyes closed, finding comfort in the rhythm.
He played and played, his cheeks wet with tears.
The rescuers heard the call.
Was Dave alive?
Feeling optimistic after the success of her first submission, Anmari decided not to kill Dave off.