I ran into a ghost the other day. I think it was a ghost. It moaned a lot, and rattled chains like old Marley did when he visited Scrooge. I blinked and the vision cleared.
The ghost was me, twenty years into the future, chained to a gray, corporate desk.
Jenise Cook lives with her husband in the north-central highlands of Arizona where it snows. Jenise enjoys visitors to @jenisecook on Twitter, and at JeniseCook.com where you can find a list of her published works.
I logged out and fled my cubicle
so find yourself another IT guy, boss
’cause I’m rebooting my system
Time for me to start a new session
open a new window
and reset my password in a warmer climate
as I back up the files and folders of my life
Roberta Beach Jacobson is a humorist from Iowa.
Okamoto’s eyes fix on the silvery gravel covering the park where he sits on a bench, briefcase resting against one leg, can of beer in hand.
Commuters stream by into the station, central Tokyo bound. He won’t be joining them.
Like yesterday morning, and he still hasn’t told his wife.
Rob Goss is a Tokyo-based writer. See more at tokyofreelance.com.
The Mustaches hovered. Khakis and clipboards. Counting down time. Lost production.
He needed the job. Medical benefits. A twice pregnant wife.
Guard bolted back into place. His finger hovered, balked above the start button. The press bucked and settled into a steady metallic heartbeat. A hollow thumping matching his own.
Randy Simons spends his days working the floor of an ammunition factory and his nights at the keyboard. His work can be found in The Los Angeles Review, Whitefish Review, and Memoir, among other places. He lives in Idaho.
Order up yells the cook. Spattered shoes pinching toes scurry from table to table, pouring coffee, delivering fake smiles painted with morning lipstick.
She scrapes seventy-five cents in quarters, nickels and pennies into her apron. An eight-fifty breakfast should have been a dollar-twenty-five tip. She majored in math in college.
Jeff Switt is a retired advertising agency guy who loves writing flash fiction, some days to curb his angst, other days to fuel it. His words have been featured at Dogzplot, Boston Literary Review, Flash Fiction World, Nailpolish Stories, 50-Word Stories, 100 Word Story, A Story in 100 Words, 101 Word Stories, and Shotgun Honey, and have appeared at lots of places that take whatever you send in.
He sat outside the bank, his hands in his pockets, where they caressed lint, two quarters and empty dreams. It was Friday and also the first. Businessmen and the elderly walked in shoulder to shoulder to do business. He wished he could join them. He missed the rank and file.
AR Neal got bit by the writing bug back in the late 1970s while watching Rod Serling and reading Ray Bradbury. Although she has worked in education for more than a quarter century, she has never been cured of her penchant for speculative fiction. Find some of her flash fiction at www.starvingartist.wordpress.com.
The bumbling magician submitted a job listing.
WANTED: Magician’s Assistant to fill recently vacated position. Female in twenties with magical or theatrical background preferred.
Must be punctual, dedicated, and comfortable with provocative outfits, late nights and knife-throwing tricks.
Knowledge of first aid and experience removing stains from satin a plus.
This is the first in a series of five stories submitted by King Kool.