The crossing bleeps.
“Lily! Hurry!”
Lily rushes; her flower falls. With infinite care, she stoops, small fingers scrabbling for the thin stem.
“Leave it Lily!”
She straightens, in resignation twenty years too old. Her face says: of course the world would do this to my one, perfect thing, again, again.
Fiona Kamal is in training to be a mad cat lady. She lives in North Vancouver with three cat-loving daughters and a husband who is feline-averse. Isn’t tension the source of all inspiration?
“Do penguins feel the cold?”
“Can all hippos wiggle their ears?”
“Are bats afraid of the dark?”
Bryan stood restless and hot beside the gorilla enclosure wishing one of his classmates would ask if a child could ever be sure his parents loved him if they never told him so.
Melissa is a sweet pea enthusiast living in Canada.
Widowed three times in ten years,
her insurance provider had fears
that she’d be a claimant
for yet one more payment
and meanwhile, though still shedding tears,
she married again
(how many more men?)
yet what she didn’t know
was that her latest beau
had lost his first five financiers.
Ken Gosse prefers writing short, rhyming, humorous poetry. First published in First Literary Review–East in November 2016, he is also in The Offbeat, Pure Slush, Parody, Home Planet News Online, and other publications. Raised in the Chicago suburbs, now retired, he and his wife have lived with their dogs and cats in Mesa, AZ, over twenty years.
The clink of ice cubes being dropped into a crystal glass. The pop of the decanter’s stopper, then the glugging sound of scotch being poured. Noises more familiar to my ten-year-old self than laughter or conversation. The shouting will start soon.
I escape to the silent sanctuary of my bedroom.
Paula MacDonald is pursuing her life-long love of writing fiction, after a cancer diagnosis put things in perspective. Do what you love.
Madame Zolinska is leaning into the crystal ball.
“…and two mortgages. You and your daughter will be estranged. Sometimes you’ll wonder whatever happened to your dream of being a pediatrician.”
On the other side of the purple tablecloth, the teenager begins to cry.
“You wanted to know,” says Madame Zolinska.
Sage Tyrtle is a professional storyteller. Her stories have been featured on NPR, CBC, and PBS. She is a Moth StorySLAM and GrandSLAM winner. She’s also one of those Americans who swanned around saying, “If this gets any worse, I’M moving to CANADA,” but then she really did. See more at tyrtle.com.
So many times I have made the bed. The corners are tucked in tight, the creases smoothed out. Are the folds crooked?
My shadow slides over dark wood panelling as I circle the room. Its movement surprises me; I flinch.
His presence looms large: his raised arm, his clenched fist.
Zoey Rowan is a copywriter, content writer, and translator living in Berlin. When she isn’t writing short stories she can be found trying out new recipes or biking around her city.
A warm summer’s evening:
A light breeze.
Green trees,
with an orange sunset.
And where:
The birds chirped.
The cat purred.
The dog barked.
The parents yelled—
and the baby cried:
Being cradled gently and carried away
by an elderly woman,
with a somber face and badge on her hip.
Pratt Institute attendee, Connor Williams started learning to write about what mattered after fleeing Brooklyn in the wake of Covid-19.
Prague, 1941.
The boy finished reading his favourite book. It was a western novel with a sheriff and bandits, and he loved everything about it.
He looked at his coat with a yellow star on it. “Now I’m the sheriff!” he thought proudly. “Tomorrow, I’ll show it to my classmates.”
Adam is a 19 year old student. He’s living near Prague in the Czech republic.
In the event of:
1. Flood – Assemble food and first aid kit. Be ready to evacuate.
2. Fire – Leave immediately. Once out, call emergency services.
3. Earthquake – Stay indoors. Prepare for cracks to appear in foundations. Do not involve passers-by. Subsidence is inevitable.
4. Marriage – Follow procedure in step 3.
Jo Withers writes micros, flash, and poetry from her home in South Australia. Recent work has appeared in Molotov Cocktail, Ellipsis Zine, Flashback Fiction, Spelk, 24 Unread Messages, and Mythic Picnic.
Sani and I stood in a hotel parking lot once and watched two children who were standing silently, holding each other’s hands and looking at the ground, while their parents fought.
That night we promised each other we’d always talk gently.
Those were hopeful days, before we knew the world.
Owen Yager is a senior at Carleton College. His work has recently appeared or is upcoming in multiple publications, including Flash Fiction Magazine.