Water reflected like a mirrored surface, flat and endless to the horizon and blending with the haze of a summer sky. I threw a stone and disrupted the stillness, as I had with my sister:
“Mom loved me more!” I said.
A verbal stone: ripples spread and peace was lost.
Gord Lysen is an only child with two older sisters.
He watched her leave; quietly, impassively, resolutely.
She closed the car door and sighed.
She glanced over her shoulder, then glided into the traffic.
She didn’t look back.
He watched the car disappear round the corner, retreated inside, and gently pulled the door.
This is the way the world ends.
Joan is an educator in Australia.
Last night, Dad came round to introduce us to his latest bride to be. “There’s life in the old dog yet,” he said.
She said nothing.
This must be his third engagement since Mum died, or his fourth including Carol.
“Who’s counting, anyway?” he asked with a grin.
David is remarkably immature about these things. He finds that writing about it does help a bit.
Always the same question: “Hey, are you okay?”
Always the same answer: “I’m fine.”
He wished someone would see past his fake smile.
She wished they’d stop asking and just hug her.
They weren’t fine. They hadn’t been for a long while.
But no one ever saw past their words.
Carmen Olowu is a 13 year old girl who aspires to be a writer. She is in the 10th grade in school.
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.
You were my rebound love.
You galloped into my heart with flanks rippling.
It wasn’t long before our hearts beat wildly and our bodies entwined.
Surprisingly, it took a while for reality to set in and for me to know that you, the ferocious stallion, didn’t know love at all.
Pat St. Pierre is a freelance writer of poetry, fiction, and nonfiction for adults and children. Her third poetry book “Full Circle” was published by Kelsay Books. Her work has appeared both online and in print. You may find some of her work at: Three Line Poetry, 50 word stories, Fiction 365, Whisperings, A Long Story Short, etc. She is also an amateur photographer whose photos have won awards and been on the covers and included in online and print magazines. Her blog is pstpierre.wordpress.com
Meet me where the setting sun kisses the roof of the lighthouse, I said, that familiar place where we whispered secrets at two in the morning. I needed to be there because I remembered all the things that we had said. She didn’t show up, because she remembered them, too.
L.S. Engler writes from outside of Chicago, though she grew up chasing dragons in Michigan. She is the editor of the World Unknown Review and is currently finishing up a trilogy about zombies called The Slayer Saga.
“Wishing you merry days and happy smiles during the holidays,” says the hand-written card, a picture of a well-dressed family traveling through China inside. The Christmas tree on the cover made me forget the cold, the hunger, the loneliness, but not the family resentments.
Sisters are sometimes the roughest critics.
Monica Perez Nevrez is a Sustainability Manager by day and a writer at night.
It’s foggy here, in my mind.
Words don’t come easy, all jumbled up in fog.
There’s sadness in their eyes.
Should I know them?
They act as if they know me; speak as if they love me.
I feel a tear escape and wonder what makes us all so sad.
Lisa Lysen is having fun exploring her passion for words, hoping an adventure in writing may be somewhere in her future.
Despite how tumultuous our relationship was
my expectations of her were the broken promises I made to myself.
Yet gone forever, I often find myself wishing
for just one more angry phone call, one more harsh word
because in the end one of us would always say I Love You.
Debra Pascarella wrote this story.