He called. Nineteen years later.
She picked up on the second ring. Like she’d been waiting. Which maybe she had.
He recited what he’d practiced.
She was quiet.
“I know,” she said. “What else?”
He hadn’t expected that.
“Here’s what you’ll do,” she sighed. “Lose my number. Stay away. Goodbye.”
Paul D’Arcy tells stories. All real. Most brief. You can read more at pauldrc.com.
My date never showed, never texted.
I sat through the entire movie alone.
The boy didn’t get the girl. They went their separate ways.
The end of the movie was the end of the world. The screen faded to black.
There were no credits, no music. The silence felt right.
Bob Thurber is the author of six books. Regarded as a master of Flash and Micro Fiction, his work has appeared in Esquire and other magazines, been anthologized 60 times, received a long list of awards, and been utilized in schools and colleges throughout the world. He resides in Massachusetts. Visit his website at BobThurber.net.
“Is it true your dog can talk?”
“Otto’s a canine of few words. I may need to interpret his speech for you.”
“Okay.”
Twenty mostly-quiet minutes later.
“I’m leaving.”
Otto spoke.
“There! Told you he could talk.”
“You call arf talking?”
“Yeah. He’s a German Shepherd. That’s short for arf-wiedersehen.”
John H. Dromey’s short stories have appeared in Mystery Magazine and numerous other publications.
“Can I bring Tom on Sunday?” she asked.
“Of course, love. And what does this one do?” asked her mother.
“Theatre.”
“Oh my God, what’s he been in? Does he know Hugh Jackman? Or Judi Dench? Has he met any Royals?”
“Ma, he rotates the barricades in ‘Les Mis’.”
“Oh.”
Tim Dadswell is a retired civil servant who loves writing short fiction. Find him on Twitter: @TimD_writer
“Did you know fireflies only live three days?” I asked.
He dragged the last of his cigarette and dropped the butt, grinding it with his shoe. “No.”
“Two years as larva, three days with wings. What would you do with only three days?”
“Well, I wouldn’t be talking to you.”
Katelyn Simpson lives with her family in Cincinnati, Ohio. She has worked in many fields, from theater technical directing to expediter advertising. She enjoys reading, writing, crafting, traveling, and fine dining.
Just keep breathing. Their seats are still empty.
My mind immediately comes up with a thousand old tired excuses: maybe traffic is bad; maybe the car didn’t start. Holding out hope? Two more then I’m up.
I look at their seats again, still empty. Disappointment and relief wash over me.
Sophia Austin works in Marketing at Fussy Cat Publishing. Writing is one of her many hobbies, all of which give her inspiration for writing.