Paper crinkles as she walks over a mosaic of manila and white envelopes in her hallway – bills, warnings and notices.
Outside, on the way to the bar, she is ambushed by moonlight and reflects that banks, bosses and former lovers will all be obliterated before Neil Armstrong’s bootprints. She smiles.
Andy Hedgecock lives and works in rural Nottinghamshire, UK, close to an Iron Age earthwork, the remains of a Roman fort, a decommissioned coalmine and a disused railway line. It’s a place of scars, erasures and stories.
Sleeping outside, away from the din of the city, they had a window into the glitter of a million worlds, and all it took to blast their minds free of Earth-bound problems was to stare into galaxies just hanging there, waiting for the next trillion years to come and go.
Linda Saldaña is an escaped tech writer now addressing the meaning of life 50 words at a time – or maybe a little more. Recent work can be found in Poydras Review and Every Day Fiction.
When I was little, they tried to teach me to eat spaghetti properly; twist it round and round my fork, then stop. I always froze, mesmerized by the spinning.
Anxiety’s like that, too. They tell you to worry, worry, then cope. But I just get stuck watching my mind whirl.
Maria attends college in the Midwest, and loves that microfiction fits neatly into her study breaks.
I was working my way through the wedding checklist, making sure I had thought of, paid for, and arranged everything.
Cars, reception venue, meal, gifts. I’d cracked it. A job well done… and with days to spare!
Now I just needed to find someone to marry.
Jon is an aspiring writer from the North West of England, currently boring himself to tears working in local government. He is looking forward to getting wed himself in the next month, but fears his own checklist is never ending… You can read more of his ramblings on the new web presence he has finally gotten round to creating at writingsonthewall645.wordpress.com
The waitress squared her shoulders and marched over. “Whatchuwant?” she asked.
He didn’t look up. Thick fingers anguished his thinning hair. “Just pie,” he said, head hung.
Deafjerk didn’t even notice me, she thought, and spit—just a little—on her ex-husband’s slice before the dollop of cream.
Rachel Burns is a current student whose latest writing project is a chapbook collection of flash fiction and poetry.
At my lowest moment, I verbally ripped into an ex, intent on slicing him to visceral gore. Even though he probably wished someone would firebomb the bar rather than listen to another word of venom—
He instinctively leaned over and lit my cigarette.
I stormed away, shaking. Listening for footsteps.
Suzanne Mattaboni has published in Seventeen, Newsday, guideposts.com, Child, and “Chicken Soup for the Soul.” She is the author of the middle grade novel TACO GIRL.
He let the stresses of life bleed off and burn away, leaving behind only his inner self.
Trapped inside his shell, life was difficult, but that was why, once a week, he removed his bodiless brain from his metal-and-plastic body, soaked in some formaldehyde, and just relaxed for a while.
I consider this story an informal companion to Like Inside-Out Acupuncture.