Happy New Year!
Another resolution to make; another resolution to break…
Perhaps this year will be different?
Yet, as 2017 rolls into 2018, I am mostly happy.
Never the same, one day to the next.
Everyone has bad days…
Wandering off the path, hoping it always leads back.
Michelle is a contributing author in the most recent Chicken Soup for the Soul: The Spirit of Canad
a. Her writing has won several awards, and appeared in The Globe and Mail
and a number of local magazines and newspapers in Alliston and Barrie. She has a monthly series in the Focus 50 + Newspaper based on her short story “Lightning Strikers.” You can find her online at michelledinnick.com
“Happy New Year, Dave,” you whispered in my ear.
Resolution broken; same old routine. We’d played this game before. We’d dance close all night while our partners glared at us from the sidelines, neglected.
When we got home, we’d have a whole lot of explaining to do. I would, anyway.
David is no longer listening. Read more at davidrae-stories.com
“Goodbye Patrick.” Cindy moved in for a half-hug and cheek-peck, but he held her until she pulled away.
Patrick fit bulging duffel bags into her rusty Mazda, shut the hatchback, then stepped away as she reversed and turned.
The car crunched down the gravel driveway, red taillights glowing in accusation.
Susan Wackerbarth is enjoying her foray into flash fiction so much that she may never go back to writing novels.
Many islanders believed that chickens were for laying eggs and eating. But Lin knew better. Life was all about the fight. Families, cities, countries, and dynasties, all jostling for survival. The cockfight was life. And money.
Though Lin’s luck had disappeared and he, too, would have to do the same.
Charmaine Wilkerson’s novella How to Make a Window Snake
won the 2017 Bath Novella-in-Flash award. Other stories and essays have appeared in various print and online publications. She tweets occasionally at @charmspen1
When you called, I raced round to your flat like you knew I would.
Afterwards, we sat in the kitchen, drinking coffee and sharing a cigarette.
It’s so good to be back together I told you, but you shook your head; Mike must never find out about this you insisted.
David has moved on and now writes 50-word stories. He has most recently had work published in The Foliate Oak, Helios Quarterly, Gnu Magazine, The Machinery, Three Drops From the Cauldron, Summer Fling – Tales of Seduction, Short Tale 100, Blink-Ink, and 50-Word Stories.
When I was younger, my dad taught me how to play chess. If I made a bad move, my dad would let me take it back. He also taught me that a man never cheats.
But I cheated. And that broke her heart.
Nobody’s letting me take that move back.
D.B. Robertson is a Psychology major from Indiana who has rediscovered a love for creative fiction after taking courses in creative writing. When not busy with writing or theatre, D.B. works as a writing tutor at university.
She was living in darkness; he introduced her to sunshine. But in the light she could see the darker side he was trying to hide.
She didn’t know whether the future would be different or a replica of the past; she was trapped amidst the present, which was fading fast.
Preeti Singh is an Indian French Interpreter and Media Professional who is engaged in writing scripts. In her free time she loves to play sundry characters for television series.
It is difficult.
Sitting next to one man, but looking across the room at the one who lives in your heart.
Oh, that is kind of difficult.
Some mistakes can’t be undone, you know.
So it seems. Why tell me this now?
Because I’m about to leave you.
Sakinah hails from Malaysia but has lived in a bunch of other countries including the U.S. After 10 years in the oil and gas industry, she’s venturing out to explore natural healing, writing, and life beyond the corporate jungle. She can be reached at facebook.com/sakinah.alhabshi
Kevin clung desperately to the lip of the mile-high cliff, wondering which of today’s six poor choices had been most to blame for his predicament.
His sweat-slick palms gave way, and too late he noticed the ledge he could have dropped safely onto.
So, the seventh mistake, then.