“I am so tired,” he admits.
“I adore you,” I reply.
Corinne Engber currently resides in Ohio, where she writes lots of essays and likes someone she shouldn’t.
I watched her from across the street.
Dorothy, predictable, walking her dog, jogging, gardening.
I don’t know what it was about Dorothy. The first time I saw her, she strolled casually up the driveway; that was it.
She was mine, she did not know; my lovely Dorothy across the street.
Bill Drummond is a scuba diver with a writing problem.
Said I’d grow up, even sell the car. Met with that guy from the bar, the one with the wad of cash. But she thinks I skipped out on her and my baby girl.
He had a passion for whiskey and bloodlust. I’d never leave my girls, but he made me.
Emily Ramser is a high school author living part-time between North Carolina and California. She’s been published in a few small online journals such as Vox Poetica and Spinozablue. Her story Sins of Murder will be published in Wolf Craft Anthology this coming fall as well.
He and she became they on a warm and gentle autumn afternoon. They were lucky it wasn’t raining.
Dressed in black and white, surrounded by fax machines, computers, televisions, all close friends in their lives, they beeped in love when the minister told the laptop he could plug the printer.
Alex Grover is a third-year student at Rowan University. He has been published in Outrageous Fortune, Postcard Shorts, Trapeze Magazine, and Linguistic Erosion. He is editor-in-chief of Yorick Magazine, an online venture he began with Cody Steinhauer in 2011.
John loved Marie, but she loved Jon. To Marie’s sorrow, Jon loved Maria, who did not love anyone. John wooed Marie while she wooed Jon. Meanwhile, Jon secretly wooed Maria. One day, Maria saw John for the first time. She fell madly in love with him and began wooing him.
Vincent Mars posts a 50-word story on his blog on every workday.
She finished tying his black tie before tucking it into the pink vest his fiancée picked out.
“I thought you didn’t want to be loved,” he said, looking down.
“I didn’t,” she smiled. “But sometimes people change their minds,” she whispered, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly before heading towards the sanctuary.
Alyssa Beth Galloway is an unpublished fiction and poetry writer. She enjoys watching Hitchcock films and browsing used book stores in her spare time. Galloway currently attends Southeast Missouri State University, and is seeking a career in writing.
When we met, I liked your bright rain boots and your shy little smile, so I never told you that you weren’t actually the woman the missed connections ad had been intended for. And by the time I kissed you, coffee breath and all, it no longer seemed to matter.
Karen Gilmore struggles with brevity. Her writing has appeared in The Globe and Mail and McSweeney’s Internet Tendency.
When the new girl entered, my face was covered in slugs.
I’d done it to get Kayley’s attention, and she was suitably grossed out, but as soon as I saw the new girl, Kayley didn’t matter.
By then, unfortunately, it was too late.
I live alone, now, with my slugs.
I imagine this as the origin story for some tragic antihero…
Jim called Sally and said he just wanted to be friends. He told her there was no spark in their relationship.
Sally showed up at Jim’s house later that night. She figured that Jim needed more than just a spark. She lit a match and set his home on fire.
John has interests that range from guitars to the Incredible Hulk. He was born and raised in St. Louis, Missouri and still lives there to this day. You can hear him on the weekly podcast at www.comicbookshowdown.com.
He gave her a wilted flower on February 15, just to see how she would react.
His friends thought it was hilarious.
She slapped him so hard she drew blood.
Ten years later, lying awake in bed, he realized he’d never met another girl who could make him really feel.
This story was based on the prompt “wilted” at TypeTrigger.