Today, I am not coming home, you might as well rent my space out. I’ve found a home in someone else, and I’m not sorry I left the way I did. You have a choice to forgive and let me love another. As of today, I am dead to you.
Klyn Akwarandu is a multifaceted writer. He writes screenplays, poetry, books, blogs, short stories and music. He is usually associated with his pen name, “KLYNIC.” You can read his books on Wattpad and follow his writing at klynic.blogspot.com.ng.
Finally I settled for the materials on hand. A creased and coffee-stained envelope opened face down. A hotel pen leaking onto my fingerprints. I wrote DEAR JOHI across the folds before running from the ward.
There was no room for N. Sometimes a relationship doesn’t get halfway through the alphabet.
JR Walsh writes in landlocked Idaho, but itsjrwalsh.com floats everywhere.
Hillock – Lingering glances at waitress. Your phone number secretly scrawled on the bill.
Bridge – Flowers, expensive dinners. Breathless streams of fragile promises.
Church With Spire – Expected. Drunken proposals, forgotten by morning.
Mountain – Personal trainer, more than once, while I was pregnant.
Quarry – Pit. The deep, dark realisation you’d never cared.
Jo Withers writes short fiction from her home in South Australia. Recent work appears in Reflex Fiction, NFFD Anthology and Best Microfictions 2020.
He’s not as smart as his haircut, nor sharp as his suit, and nowhere near as polished as his shoes. “Bright” would have to be on a triple word score before someone used it about him, but times are tough so you smile and say, “Very droll, sir, very droll.”
Tom O’Brien is an Irishman living in London. He has words on many websites and in several print anthologies. His novella Straw Gods will be published by Reflex Press this year.
He stood her up on their third date.
Fifteen years and three lovers later, he finds her in Savenor’s Market. After exchanging greetings, he leaves. She studies the sirloin.
Suddenly he’s back, takes her face in his hands, passionately kisses her, and hurries away.
Stunned, she moves on to produce.
Carol Anne Harvey has been writing poetry and short stories since she was 5. Her focus now is on writing micro memoirs. “Unfinished” is her first submission to 50-Word Stories.
Football ruled his weekend. College all Saturday and pros all Sunday. This was his just reward for a hard week of work.
He turned the television off after the last weekend football game. The house was eerily quiet.
He wondered, idly, when she’d left and whether she would come back.
NT Franklin has been published in Page and Spine, Fiction on the Web, 101 Words, Friday Flash Fiction, CafeLit, Madswirl, Postcard Shorts, 404 Words, Scarlet Leaf Review, Freedom Fiction, Burrst, Entropy, Alsina Publishing, Fifty-word stories, Dime Show Review, among others.
She stirred creamer into her coffee; he drank his black.
Sigh.
“Aren’t you tired of the fighting?”
“Of course! But I thought we were worth it.”
He looked at her again. That old spark.
The waitress handed him the check.
“Ready, hon?”
“No,” he said. “We aren’t quite finished yet.”
When I saw the twinkle in his eyes, I was his, forever more.
It took him only nine years to realize he felt the same about me.
Marriage; a son; joys and sorrows.
On our Silver Anniversary, I fall in love again whenever I see that twinkle in his eyes.
Irene is the Firefox Developer Content Manager. She spends her days writing content for web developers and her evenings and weekends writing very short stories.
Raymond shifted uncomfortably in his armchair as Suzanne raged at him.
“I don’t know why I bother here. I asked you to do one thing, and you forgot. You’re pathetic!”
She left the room, slamming the door.
Raymond shifted uncomfortably in his armchair and switched his hearing aid back on.
David McTigue lives in Liverpool UK, and enjoys reading, crosswords, music, concert going, cooking, and of course writing. Several of his short stories, poems, and crosswords have been published in various magazines and anthologies.
I think your atoms and my atoms were pressed close in that dense, hot ball at the beginning of the universe.
Then everything expanded, but not us.
Maybe that’s why you annoy me so much: because we’ve been stuck together for infinite eons, and I just really need some space.
Lex T. Lindsay is a queer writer living in Texas with her two cats and probably more spiders than she’d care to know about. Let the record show that she enjoys both Captain America and tacos a normal amount.