The funeral was an hour away but his grandmother was still in her robe in the kitchen , stirring away at a large pot. Transfixed.
Nobody said anything. The rest of the family sat in the lounge, talking about nothing. They ignored the phone calls.
Clouds gathered and parted. Grandma stirred.
PJ is a dramatist obsessed with writing the perfect short story.
Empty for eighty years, the mansion loomed over the village, and cautionary tales spread as wildfire.
She ventured in regardless, her explorer’s spirit unquenchable. To her parents’ chagrin, she returned late, yet regretted nothing.
In the mansion’s window a figure appeared, high above the village.
It watched, and it waited.
Tony is working on a research thesis. In his spare time, he enjoys playing music and writing short stories. Some of his writing can be seen at liretranger.wordpress.com
I thought it’d be an easy stab ‘n grab, but the old man didn’t flinch when I pointed the knife at his chest. Instead he grabbed the handle and thrust the blade between his ribs, past the lungs, to where his heart should have been.
He laughed and walked away.
Francisco Tutella’s fiction and poetry reflect his experiences growing up in northeastern Pennsylvania and his travels in Italy. His work has appeared in 50-Word Stories and Wilkes magazine. He holds an M.F.A. in Creative Writing from Wilkes University and teaches composition and literature in northeastern Pennsylvania.
As the dark loomed over her, she could feel her heart race.
Suddenly she could hear her own footsteps. She started to move towards a tall derelict building.
The noise of her footsteps faded away, overtaken by an overwhelming screeching like finger nails on a blackboard.
What could it be?
Erin Walker is a 9 year-old girl who in her spare time likes writing stories and singing.
As I was peeling potatoes one got away and hit the floor. It disappeared.
Einstein says when one object strikes another there is an infinitesimally small chance the vibrations of each will cause them to pass right through each other.
I checked, but the potato wasn’t in the basement either.
Ginny Giraudi is a science writer living in Mississauga.
It was her eyes that drew him to her. They were odd looking and yellowish.
He whipped the dogs and the sled leaped ahead over the packed and frozen snow.
Fleet as the wind, she ran alongside, among the trees.
She turned, vanishing.
In the distance, the wolves were howling.
William Dart is just a retiree.
Left, right. Up, down.
He searches for the book. It’s still there. Relieved, but he still can’t afford it.
He walks away to the pens and picks a black one. Usually he just scribbles integrals to test the pen but this time he nonchalantly writes, “I’m gonna get her someday.”
Isaiah is a college student from the Philippines and is currently trying to salvage his semester. Please pray for him.
The knock at the door in the middle of the night caught her off guard. When she answered the summons, the person on the other side said, “Guess who.”
“I don’t know who.”
“Give up?” the person asked.
She pulled the door open. Nobody was there.
Kymberli Roberson lives in Illinois where she is currently hunting down the goblins of writer’s block.
On a summer night in the bayou, I wade through dark, brackish water for a rendezvous with my angel. The calm, silent water reflects the moon like a looking glass. Shimmering and magnetic, she draws me toward her in the moonlight, beckoning me, like a child to a candy shop.
Ed Baswell is a 40-something writer originally from Asheville, North Carolina, now residing in Southern California. Primarily a trainer and curriculum developer in the aerospace industry, Ed is trying to hone his creative writing skills.