I step in something cold, slimy on the kitchen tile.
Gelatin-encased golden suns. Crushed shells.
Gwen is slumped in the corner, rage melted.
I grease up a pan, ignite the burner, scoop up the ruined eggs with a spatula, and toss them into the spitting oil.
Then help her stand.
Tim Boiteau writes and lives near Detroit with his wife and son.
Michael really likes you,
Her parents insisted
When she was 20
I find him dull, she countered
You can’t be too particular, her father said
You have to think about what you have to offer.
Was it her extra pounds he meant?
Or her personality?
She wished she had asked
Miriam Stein is a social worker, writer, and the author of Make Your Voice Matter With Lawmakers: No Experience Necessary. See more at makeyourvoicematter.com. She lives in Massachusetts.
He loved her all his life. He waited, growing up knowing she was out there, even before he met and married her.
The sun settled behind the hills every day, but today had special meaning. He would be facing tomorrow alone for the first time. Now, she waited for him.
NT Franklin writes cozy mystery short stories, nostalgia short stories, and Flash Fiction and has been published in 50 Word Stories, Page & Spine, Scarlet Leaf Review, Fiction on the Web, Madswirl, Postcard Shorts, 404 Words, 101 Words, Freedom Fiction, Burrst, Entropy, Alsina Publishing, Fifty-word stories, Dime Show Review, and more.
Moments wasted in anger:
55 hours arguing over finances,
6 months “discussing” our exes,
8 weeks agreeing to disagree,
18 frosty Sunday breakfasts after you came in late,
3 weeks not speaking over small things,
1 year, 7 months detesting your illness.
Moments missing you:
24 hours, 7 days, always.
Jo Withers needs to remember to make every moment matter. She spends them writing shorts, poetry, and flash fiction from her home in South Australia. She is also author of the middle-grade adventure 5 Simple Steps to Saving Planet Earth. You can follow Jo on Twitter.
I woke long before dawn, shards of moonlight breaking through the faded curtains.
The hotel hadn’t changed much.
Now, twenty years later, I could still see him stretched out on the bed, with that mischievous, just-married look in his eyes.
I touched the urn on the nightstand. “Happy anniversary, dear.”
Susan Gale Wickes is from Indiana. In addition to writing poetry and short stories, she enjoys penning aphorisms and epigrams.
I’d like to have many hearts to offer you, like hand-made biscuits of several shapes and tastes.
I’d lie them down on the kitchen table, for you to choose one each morning.
Comes sun or rain, there will always be a leftover heart, misshapen, unwanted, neglected, to keep you alive.
Russell Hemmell is an alien from Mintaka snuggled into a (consenting) human host. His recent fiction has been published on Aurealis, The Grievous Angel, New Myths, and elsewhere. See more at earthianhivemind.net.
April loved Dylan from the moment she first saw him. His blue eyes pierced her soul. She knew there could be no other.
Crouching down, she beckoned to him. Dylan, husky in breed and build, ran into her waiting arms.
Love born in a shelter, but exactly who rescued whom?
Lisa Chambers is a Texas girl who loves words.
You looked up into the night sky. Saw brilliant stars, expanding universe, mysterious galaxies, endless time. You looked down into my eyes. Saw faint light, boundaries of my soul, simpleness of my mind, the finity of my existence.
I linger beyond the border of light and dark, a black hole.
Marie A Bailey lives in the southeastern U.S. with a supportive husband and three cats. She has been published in The Disappointed Housewife as well as Florida’s Emerging Writers, An Anthology and America’s Emerging Writers, An Anthology of Fiction, Volume I, both by Z Publishing House. She blogs about writing, travel, knitting and cats at 1writeway.com.
“Brake before the curve,” her mother always told her in mountainous terrain.
Senior year, she met him in philosophy class, slept with him when he mentioned love.
“We’re too young to get serious,” he said one night. Permanent goodbye.
Spring semester, he was engaged.
His words were code. Broke her.
C.G. Thompson has two stories in the recently released TL;DR Press’ Women’s Anthology: Carrying Fire. Other stories and poems have appeared in Yalobusha Review, Prime Number Magazine, Fictive Dream, Jersey Devil Press, and Redheaded Stepchild, among others.
He plunged the knife into his chest, carved a circle through the muscle and bone, and withdrew his heart. He placed it in a box and neatly wrapped it.
The day before she left, he presented her the gift, to carry with her to the other end of the world.
Francisco Tutella is a public relations specialist at Penn State University. His work has appeared in Fifty-Word Stories and Wilkes magazine. He holds an M.F.A. in Creative Writing from Wilkes University. Like him on Facebook.