Tag Archives: hope

MONICA PEREZ NEVAREZ: Thirteen Suspects

Artistic, Submissions, , , ,

“What do we have here?” asked the detective.

“Female, single, 60-something, sleeping pills,” the coroner responded.

“Anything else?”

“An empty Cuervo bottle, a pink slip, an eviction notice. A bare cupboard; wearing a new Gucci nightgown…”

“Cause of death?”

“A lethal mix of economic strangulation, diehard aspirations, and early-onset poverty.”

Monica Perez Nevarez is a sustainability consultant by day, and an aspiring writer and social critic at any other time, researching the many everyday things that can kill you while living in a collapsing economy.

RICHARD BAIGENT: Fergus

Artistic, Submissions, , , , , , ,

“He’s such a beautiful boy,” they all say.

“How could two people who look like you have such a good-looking kid,” they joke.

“He’s going to break a few girls’ hearts,” they suggest.

“You are so lucky,” they add.

Yes we are. Autistic. He’s going to teach us a lot.

Richard Baigent always wanted to be a freelance writer, but isn’t yet.

LAURA BESLEY: A Tale of Two Hearts

Submissions, Touching, , , ,

I could be dead.

I would be dead if I’d been born 50 years ago. God knows, I’ve thought about it. There’s been no point living this half-life.

Instead, today I wake to the loud rhythmic banging of my new heart (my new heart!).

And my life can finally begin.

Laura Besley writes short fiction in the precious moments that her children are asleep. She has been widely published online, in print, and in anthologies. Her debut flash fiction collection, The Almost Mothers, is out in March 2020.

JENNIFER L FREED: While My Brother is Having an MRI

Artistic, Poetry, Submissions, , , , ,

______to see whether the cancer
has also leapt to his brain,
my husband drives wintery roads,
bringing one of our daughters
to a birthday party. The dog
wags at the door, eager
for his walk, and the plow
leaves another ridge of icy snow
at the end of our driveway.

Jennifer L Freed mostly writes poems, which have appeared in various journals and anthologies. See more at her website, jfreed.weebly.com.

TRICIA LOWTHER: Mrs Kaminski’s Cushion

Artistic, Submissions, , , , ,

Mrs Kaminski hugs the purple, sequinned cushion she’s just had to buy back from the charity shop. Her interfering bus driver daughter had donated it.

She spots the 52 on its way down North Road.

In the middle of the zebra crossing she lies down, cushion positioned under her head.

Tricia is a high priestess of micro-fiction.

CASEY LAINE: Winter’s Child

Artistic, Poetry, Submissions, Top Stories, , , ,

In a hole in the ground,
there lives a child.

Winter’s seed,
immune to the cold.

When spring rains down,
instead of drowning,
she absorbs.

Shrugging out
of her outgrown coat,
she stretches–
fingers up and up,
toes down, down–
and raises her green head
to smile at the sun.

Casey Laine comes from a long line of talkative women. She works as Fantasy Editor at Cosmic Roots and Eldritch Shores, and publishes an annual anthology of fiction and poetry for her writing group, Writers Assembled. In her spare time, she chases butterflies with her camera. Find her on Facebook, Amazon, and Cosmic Roots and Eldritch Shores.

HENRY BLADON: Every Day

Submissions, Touching, , , , ,

Every day after school, we go to the park.

Every day, the man on the bench admires the acers in the Japanese gardens.

Every day, he smiles and asks my daughter how she is.

But today he isn’t here. She whispers that maybe this is his first day in Heaven.

Henry appreciates nature, and spending time in the park admiring the trees seems like a pretty good way to use your time.

EILEEN MARDRES: Horror show or real life?

Artistic, Submissions, , , ,

Pat doesn’t watch horror movies.

Pat came to Canada a refugee. Lived in a single room. Shared a narrow bed. Lived in fear of a knock on the door.

He lay shivering at night listening to screaming as one neighbor chased another with a knife.

Pat doesn’t watch horror movies.

Eileen is a grandma twelve times over, who, now retired, has switched from writing as part of her employment for others to writing along her own creative path. She has a poem recently published in Mothers of Angels 2.

URSULA HOULT: How Long Do You Wait?

Artistic, Submissions, Top Stories, , , , ,

The fish were late this year. Stanley sat with the collected fishermen and ate the egg sandwich he’d made at home.

Home was dusty. It was never dusty before Evelyn’s death. So he came to the river and waited.

The other men drifted away. “It’s over,” they said.

He waited.

Over a lifetime, Ursula Hoult has done many things – a little bit of a lot of things, to put it another way. As you read, you may wonder “did she make that bit up”? And the answer is quite likely: “Yes, because it suited the story.” She is currently focused on flashfiction writing. See more at ursulahoult.com.

JOHN YOUNG: Gregor

Artistic, Odd, Submissions, , ,

Faded yellow letters on a flaking blue sign beside the door of a long-abandoned building read: Mrs M. Martindale, music lessons, top floor.

Gregor, a beggar, frail, toothless, and alone, spends his nights huddled by the front step. Sometimes he plays his tin whistle. Sometimes a distant piano accompanies him.

John Young is an old chap living in St. Andrews, Scotland, a ancient town with an ancient university, home of golf and, allegedly, many ghosts.