The soft glow of dawn
covers my room in rainbows.
Young eyes try to capture them.
My mother’s figure appears in the doorway,
I ask her to join me,
catch her own rainbows.
She simply shakes her head, eyes glassy.
Maybe another day, I think,
Or maybe not.
Lauren loves creative writing and can usually be found in her room writing a poem or short story or on the beach reading. She struggled to stay within the 50-word limit since she loves to talk!
So you see fireflies and I see fairies. You see the moon and I see a benevolent smile. But when daylight comes we both awaken to the same dingy ceiling where we fell onto the bed – you entranced by my enchanted whimsy and me, grateful to have taken you there.
Linda is a professional who has worked all over Canada, the US, and Australia; a former bookstore owner; and an adventure traveler. Linda is also an avid reader (with no genre loyalty whatsoever) and volunteers many hours supporting community theatre and festivals as well as freelance writing for local newspapers and small businesses. Through all of this, Linda has managed to remain faithful to her passion: creative writing for sheer pleasure.
My greatest loves have all been in my head.
Safe from failure, I dive into passion; into romance; into perfection. I know things will go as I plan; I am planning them all.
Sometimes I wake from these daydreams, longing for them—struggling to remember their lips are not mine.
Rebecca Milton is a writer from London, England who was once described as “cute like a polar bear sliding down a rainbow”. Coincidentally, that has always been her aspiration in life.
Born a boy, I found a magical world full of wonder, possibilities, dragons, tribbles, and starships.
Now older, I’m tasked with keeping the boy alive, facing the psychologist and saying, “You’re a doctor, but I’m the doctor for me.”
Otherwise, where’s the fun? Now let’s capture a star and play.
John Keeley is a New York City native who believes it’s important to keep the child a major part of you, even into senior citizenhood.
Riding astride his crimson unicorn, Alexander slayed robots and ninjas as he crossed the bridge. In the distance the daikaiju terrorizing the city breathed fire on a skyscraper, incinerating it almost immediately. UFOs filled the sky.
Alexander held his sword high and smiled. “Today is a good day,” he said.
Daniel Slaten writes short stories and poetry in small notebooks and on sticky notes.
The train slowly churns away from the platform. From the front car, sitting on the left-hand side, I see the entrance to a world below the surface, its green glow eating at my curiosity. Just as I’m imagining what lies beyond, we’ve picked up speed, and the next song plays.
AC Baldwin is primarily an author of fantasy and science-fiction. This is her third published piece of micro-fiction. She is also currently funding a space-fantasy novel on Inkshares called The Traveller’s Cup
The farmer saw his daughter halfway down a hole in the ground. “What are you doing, child?”
“The badgers are having a tea party, Dad. They’re expecting me.”
He tutted at this childish fantasy, dragged his daughter away.
Below, father badger consulted his watch. “Think we’d better start without her.”
Carol Browne first appeared on the planet in 1954. She regards Crewe, Cheshire, as her home town and graduated from Nottingham University in 1976 with an honours degree in English Language and Literature. She is a contracted author at Burning Willow Press.
In the end nothing would remain. Faerie and all it had ever been would now seep into the soil and the streams, filtering down over rocks into the villages below.
Its ether would become something foreign to men. They would call it imagination, but we would always call it magic.
David recently won a competition and then another and now he’s gonna be a Dad… He needs a drink.
Something was in the basement. She heard it creak and step and the stairs groaned.
Hand on handle; what lurked behind the door? She waited.
Nothing came. Creak, step, and groan. She twisted the knob, scared.
Nothing came, black, blank, void.
What was behind the door? Her mind was all.
As often as he can be Aaron Black is a freelance blogger and fiction writer. He spent ten years researching and writing a screenplay about Atlantis and now likes short stories because any more rejection letters from studios that made movies like From Justin to Kelly and Catwoman would make him bitter.
“Shall we?” pondered Lord Flufferkins.
“Indeed,” said Sir Oakfeller.
“Tally ho!” cried Lord Flufferkins.
“Quite,” agreed Sir Oakfeller.
“Harry, what’re you doing?”
Harry started. “Er, nothin’!”
“Are you playing make believe with a stick and a bit of fuzz!?”
Harry blushed. “I’m just… Just practicin’ my ‘magination!”
This story was based on a title suggested by Master Gunner.