He sits before the door expectantly, tail swishing. The door doesn’t open, will never open. Inside is off limits.
I sigh, empathy swirling through me. “Come on, bud,” I mutter, lifting my protesting cat up and away.
He’s not the only one to obsess over what he can’t have.
Maria is fascinated by the similarities of emotion across species, time, and place. She misses her cats a lot.
Sometimes I get an idea at 2:00 in the morning, and I have to write it down or else I’ll forget it.
That happens to other people, too.
When it happens to me, I have to sleep late on the weekends.
And that is the real reason I don’t exercise.
Michael practices law in the Bronx, writes short stories on the side, and has been published in Fiction On The Web.
“Pa! They’re here.”
“Jeez, Ma, give it a rest.”
“The garden, just waiting for the plants to grow, ripen.”
“Then they’ll do their dirty work.”
“Yer crazy, cut it out!”
“Pa! One landed!”
“Wait, Ma, no! Come back. Heck! Crow for dinner again.”
Robin writes in the odd corners of the day and night and often about birds. See more at thenightmail.com.
They stopped listening when the truck hit us. From the back seat I’d been explaining Three- and Five-Act Structure.
The side door crumpled and I realised my mistake: this was Act Five of my story, not Act Two.
Maybe the Midpoint of the lorry driver’s arc, Point of No Return.
Tom O’Brien is an Irishman living in London. He’s been published in numerous places across the web and has short stories printed in Blood & Bourbon, Blink-Ink, and DEFY! Anthologies. His novella Straw Gods will be published by Reflex Press in 2020. He’s on Twitter at @tomwrote and his website is tomobrien.co.uk.
“I’m sick!” the stranger whispers, in the hospital lift.
Fear takes my breath.
“A sniff a day… prevents… you know?”
“Okay.” I breathe.
He hunkers down.
Wrestles off my left shoe.
The doors ping.
“You’re sick!” I yell, furiously hoping my diagnosis will be infectious.
Their eyes met. His breath caught in his throat and he realized from this moment on, his life would be devoted to her. Every future breath would be breathed for her. She would redeem him.
He’d plan their next meeting. But first things first: he needed to kill his wife.
Mandie Hines writes psychological thrillers, horror, and flash fiction in the shadows of the Rocky Mountains. She’s driven to create pieces of fiction that capture moments of human vulnerability. Find more at mandiehines.com.