I wanted to buy a necklace for my wife as a Christmas gift.
Unfortunately, I really didn’t know what size fit her. Therefore, I decided to measure her neck size when she was asleep.
However, as I was putting a rope on her neck to measure size, she woke up.
Cloris Cui a student at Shenzhen Academy of International Education who wants to learn directing in university.
Sometimes I wish she hadn’t read my letter. Even today I turn red, remembering her tone of surprise; I was scared, as I am right now.
I ran away and we never talked again.
Now I sit alone, going over photos of her, wondering how surprised she would sound today.
Tiago Viana is a Brazilian trying to live life as a writer in the US. With a preference for horror and mystery, he occupies himself writing novels, but sometimes he tries something new.
The girl fell, once. Gingerly, her father picked her up. He kissed her wound. “Roses bleed, too,” he said, drying the tears from her face.
She looked up to him, beautiful, bright-eyed, and unknowing of the secrets behind his eyes. Because given time, even roses grow dull and wither away.
Joaquim Chichava is unbearably quirky, and has grown to love wearing shorts.
“But they must have noticed the bruises? The black eyes?”
“I told them I fell down the stairs at work.”
“And they believed that?”
“Please, Clare, you have to tell someone. You can’t keep this inside you. It’s too big.”
I’m better than I was.”
Mark Farley is attempting to write 1,000,000 words in 2016. Please wish him luck!
We were army kids, moving ten times in fourteen years.
Mother ruled the house like an angry nun. Dad seldom spoke, always thinking, thinking…
It wasn’t until our last move that he slipped up, the trail of dead bodies he’d left behind a connect-the-dot drawing of every place we’d lived.
Len Kuntz is a writer from Washington State and an editor at the online magazine Literary Orphans. His story collection The Dark Sunshine debuted from Connotation Press in 2014. You can also find him at lenkuntz.blogspot.com.
“It was probably wolves,” Mom said, and turned away, gagging.
I stroked poor Curly’s paw, the only part not matted with blood.
Dad stood behind me, hand on my shoulder. He spoke with his fingers: “Don’t say a word” he squeezed.
There would be more, I realized, my chest hollow.
Dana Mele is a writer and attorney who lives in upstate New York with her husband and toddler. She writes Dead End Darling, an online serial about survival, second chances, and zombies, and her work is forthcoming in 101 Words. In her spare time, she avoids bears.
Josie couldn’t stop thinking about the trunk. Her grandpa had freaked and chased her from the room when she saw it under the bed.
Luckily, it was his bridge night.
Josie crept towards the bed, knelt, and pulled it out.
The lid creaked. She screamed when she saw the body.
Courtney Casteel lives in Baton Rouge with her partner and their three cats: the fluffy one, the fat one, and the one whose tail is out to get it. When she isn’t writing or reading, Courtney cooks, makes things out of yarn, and does circus stunts.
In a movie I saw as a boy, there was a mystical cave hidden behind a waterfall. I remember how eagerly I quested that summer, how I found nothing but slippery rock faces.
Lying here, cold and tired, I sometimes wonder… What would I have found behind the next one?
This story was based on the prompt “waterfall” at TypeTrigger.
Like clockwork, he’d get up at 6:00 AM and get ready for work.
Immediately, the maid who knew her secret scurried into the room to help her choose her costume for the day. Then she, too, went to work.
Imagine their surprise when their eyes met: a client, and a provider.
Tanja lives in Malta, Europe, with her husband and three children. She freelances for print and online media in Maltese and English.