too old to drive,
that’s what my daughters told me
when they took away my keys
my dignity
my freedom
in a heartbeat
all my choices disappeared
boredom set in
as suddenly my world became
four walls
tv, radio, the cat
and me
just sitting,
existing in hushed silence…
waiting
Roberta Beach Jacobson, 73, is looking ahead.
On moonless nights, when darkness unfolds, becoming every shadow’s blanket, the boys dream of shadows sleeping serenely, cuddled in night’s softness. Whenever a shadow snarls or snores, the night muffles the sound into something less disturbing. While the boys dream of shadows, the shadows dream of dancing beneath crisscrossing spotlights.
Bob Thurber is the author of six books. Regarded as a master of Flash and Micro Fiction, his work has appeared in Esquire and other magazines, been anthologized 60 times, received a long list of awards, and been utilized in schools and colleges throughout the world. He resides in Massachusetts. Visit his website at BobThurber.net.
Conscience called. I listened. Sun up, my captive was released back into the wild. Few leaps away from the cage, he paused, filling up his lungs with a whiff of the sweet smell of freedom. One leap forward, and the squirrel was airborne, caged between the talons of a hawk.
Chidi Young lives in Jos, Plateau State, Nigeria.
Searchlights slash through the darkness creating shards of black. Somewhere unseen it approaches, that familiar sputtering sound in the sky.
Then the quiet, that horrid time of waiting. Time stands still as death approaches.
An explosion is seen in the distance.
You cheated death. This time.
Wayne is a retired videogame developer of 35 years. He’s written the gameplay and screenplays for many popular games as well as programmed them. His first big title was “Duke Nukem” in the early 1990s. Since retiring, he writes fictional short stories, has finished one book, and is currently writing another.
“Watch out.”
You point to the stinging nettle, hanging innocently with its vaguely-heart-shaped leaves.
I’ve never been stung.
Try it, you say.
Grinning, I let it brush over my arm.
With a laugh, you take my hand.
Safe.
I admire the novel red mark, burning as we continue our walk.
Alexandra has recently been introduced to mushroom hunting, and hasn’t eaten anything deadly yet!
I love blankets. I love their softness, their variety—their moods ranging from pastels to prints. I love my camo comforter most, big enough to cocoon me completely, my body hidden, protected from the cold, the open air, my parents’ voices swelling in the den… Nothing can reach me here.
Natalie Schriefer received her MFA from Southern Connecticut State University. She works as a freelance writer and editor. See more at natalieschriefer.com.
Someone once told me a hot shower is like a mother’s womb.
Perhaps because you feel safe being vulnerable.
I wonder if I ever cried in my mother’s womb.
I like crying in the shower. It’s the solidarity I get knowing that something else can pour as much as me.
Joshua Benitez believes the best time for a shower is at night.
Her heavy legs had stood and waited. Her aching arms had pushed through the crowds.
A salty tear rolled down onto her tattered jacket as she watched the doors of salvation thud closed. The city was full.
Now she had nothing left to do but head back into the sand.
After graduating university with a degree in Drama and Theater Arts, Jennifer Kennett somehow began writing speculative fiction. She has had work published in Mad Scientist Journal (fall 2016), Longshot Island (Spring 2017), The Weird Reader (Winter 2017) and Astounding Outpost (Winter 2017). Follow her on Twitter at @Jen_Kennett.
“She’s got the sight,” Mama hisses, makes a forking gesture with arthritic fingers.
“Don’t talk rubbish, woman.” Papa’s whiskers tickle my ear. I feel safe curled in his lap, until I see him make the forking sign himself, down the side of the armchair where he thinks I won’t see.
Rebecca Fraser is an Australian writer whose short stories, flash fiction, and poems have appeared in various anthologies, magazines, and journals since 2007. She holds a Masters of Arts in Creative Writing, and her fiction showcases her fondness for all things darkly speculative. To provide her muse with life’s essentials, Rebecca supplements by copy and content writing, however her true passion lies in storytelling. See more at rebeccafraser.wordpress.com.
Danny hopped into a black bumper car while Johanna hopped into a blue one.
Both drivers skimmed the signs on the surrounding walls. In large red letters:
CLOCKWISE DIRECTION ONLY
NO HEAD-ON HITS
Danny and Johanna exchanged glances, then sped to opposite ends of the floor, faced each other and…
Joey wasn’t interested in writing while at school but has been writing on his own in recent years, mostly to amuse himself. He has been published at The Story Shack. He also would like to drive bumper cars again cos it’s been a while.