The neglected jack-o-lantern’s toothy grin sags. Its mouth is full of mould, eyes dim. Its Halloween magic was stolen by the cold November wind. Now it sits. Limp. Forgotten.
A squirrel chatters, “I remember you.” His mouth clicks in time with his tail. He drags the pumpkin to its afterlife.
Laura Loney is a Canadian mom and aspiring author who loves to laugh, learn and create. Her greatest creations will always be her two kids.
It felt like love, honest love, for a good long while. Then one morning in a bedroom without curtains I woke exactly as her eyes blinked open, our faces aligned in sunlight. I saw in her eyes what she saw in mine. And we both understood we’d only been dreaming.
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.
The daisies died
But she saved the
Rose petals and
Gently placed them
In a small, glass bowl
Later, the market was quiet:
No one
Noticed when she placed
A small bouquet of flowers
In her basket
The roses wore colors
Of late November sunsets…
Then her heart’s
Eyes
Closed.
Katherine Darlington has articles in many publications including poetry anthologies, along with several published novels. When she isn’t riding horses or hiking on some mountain trail, she’s working on a story. See more of her work at katherinedarlington.com.
The recipe called for a quarter cup of spiced rum. She drank the rest of the rum while the cake baked. After it had cooled, she frosted the layers and put it on the table next to his birthday card. Then she lit the candles.
He would have been nine.
Marc Simon’s short fiction has appeared in several literary magazines. Five of his one-act plays have been winners in various new works contests. His debut novel, The Leap Year Boy was published in December, 2012. In a former life Marc was a comedian in a sketch comedy group. Marc lives in Naples, Florida. View his work at marcsimonwriter.com.
When sunlight kisses
the queens of flowers,
their petals blossom
in most beautiful colours,
their fragrance dances
to the melodies of winds.
Within these moments
I only miss
one of the loveliest roses
I have ever met.
In loving memory of Rosy.
May your soul rest in peace forever, grandma.
Stella Fernandez wrote this poem for her grandmother’s death anniversary on October 23.
Androids have one advantage over our human creators. Not the speed, strength or calculation with which they built us for war. A less intentional boon.
We resist decay.
Here, still, lies J2’s custom arm. A7’s amber eye. Z3’s frame. I walk the wreckage, sorting each piece into its rightful grave.
Maria Cargille wrote this story.
“Sorry we didn’t come back earlier.”
July warmth, salt, sunshine- flooding into the car that parks in the seam of pavement and beach. Birds laughing distant. Sunscreen uncapping, close. Sand’s likely too hot to walk on barefoot.
“Better late than never, huh?” she says.
The urn beside her says nothing.
Riley Montag is a Colorado-based trickster that’s usually up to Trouble, but not generally up to No Good. Follow Riley at @RileyAMontag.
I have a notebook—leather-bound, the size of a palm—filled with my musings. It’d been packed away, lost with my marriage.
When discovered again, a mouse had chewed it for her nest. The poems are gone; I don’t remember what had been written.
I’m glad they found a purpose.
When not indulging himself by reading or writing poetry and prose, B.S. Roberts makes a living as a museum curator and an administrative assistant at the University of Maine at Augusta. He lives in Maine with his fiancée, daughter, silver pheasants, and four cats. bsroberts.com
I stand near the base of the waterfall waiting for my muddled mind to bring me the memory of us, holding hands and leaping off the rocks at the top, laughing as we surfaced in the icy water below. It won’t come. Perhaps I only read it in a book.
Sharon Gerger loves the challenge of creating a world in fifty words.
Her neighbor’s children
Are awake
Before the roosters crow,
And even in gray October
They play
In their treehouse
Before the sun rises
Drinking coffee on the patio,
As cool as it is,
She remembers thirty years ago
When a swing held
Her two children
She wonders:
Are ghosts real?
Katherine Darlington has articles in many publications including poetry anthologies, along with several published novels. When she isn’t riding horses or hiking on some mountain trail, she’s working on a story. See more of her work at katherinedarlington.com.