The livestream of his daughter’s birth crawled; he didn’t recognize himself in the black flicker.
Just earlier he shot a child who had pointed a gun at him. Watched the hate and fear fade from his eyes.
She’s now the only part of him that still belongs in this world.
Shaw Chen is a USAF Veteran and graduate student who wants to try creative writing.
A sickle moon is gleaming.
Legs on the ledge, nerves suppressed by drilling.
He jumps, engages the chute – a jerk, then slowing.
His time airborne quickly fleeting,
He glides down softly, never knowing
The danger waiting out of sight and hearing
In years to come, a source of nightmare screaming.
Victor Bort is a Russian lawyer and a former police investigator in Saint Petersburg, Russia. Being crazy about the English language, he is trying to write flash fiction stories in the language he really adores.
There’s a cemetery east of town. It’s small, just a fence guarding some grass.
I’m the only one who visits the cemetery and its single grave.
Dad earned his place in Arlington, but chose this simple dirt plot, saying,
“It’s like the ones in distant lands, where my brothers sleep.”
John Fowler served twenty years in the US Air Force before retiring and starting a second career in the IT field. He is also a Lay Pastor serving a small church near his home in Texas. His hobbies include reading, golfing, writing, and now oil painting.
“Where’s Private Landowsky?”
“He’s on sick call with a concussion.”
“What happened to him?”
“The drill sergeant gave him a rock to hold so he wouldn’t forget which is his left hand.”
“An officer passed by and Private Landowsky forgot that he’s supposed to salute with his right hand.”
John H. Dromey has had short fiction published in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, Crimson Streets, Stupefying Stories Showcase, and elsewhere.
The postcard from Afghanistan came in the mail today. I’d given him one card for every day of his deployment.
It had been four weeks since the last one arrived.
Tears came as I read it and reread it again, searching for the words that weren’t there. “I love you.”
This is Alec’s first submission to 50-Word Stories. He resides with his wife and two young boys in Caledon Village, Ontario.
I’m doing this for you. I have volunteered, and you’ve no idea, no clue about the wires or the cables that will be plugged into my [REDACTED]. And all for [REDACTED]. For [REDACTED] and honor and you. Most of all for you. I don’t really give a damn about [REDACTED].
Jessica Rutland graduated from the University of Texas. She recently had a story published in the Austin Chronicle, which she thought was pretty neat.