You told me the story of the blind man out in the rain: grabbing the bus stop sign and leaning into the wind. You were in the back of the car and wanted to get out and offer him an umbrella you didn’t have.
Some days are bad like that.
Kiah Mott has been published previously in Flash Fiction Magazine Online. She was also a finalist for the 2018 Moon City Fiction Competition.
I didn’t swerve to crush the squirrel in the road.
I didn’t round the block and try again.
I remember vividly: the squirrel, lying on his back in the middle of the road, legs flailing, writhing in pain.
I should have killed him. I left him suffering and cannot forget.
Harry Demarest has retired after careers encompassing scientific research, teaching, Computers, the internet, and politics. He is now writing and spending time with his grandchildren. He has published a dozen fifty word stories, and a couple of longer ones.
Pesca slithered onto the mud and gasped for breath. He was the first. He foresaw it all.
His children and descendents would become Reptiles, mammals, primates, and hominids. Civilization, weapons, and war would follow, and then nuclear annihilation.
Pesca slithered back into the water. He would be the last amphibian.
Harry Demarest has retired after careers encompassing scientific research, teaching at a university, software development, web application development, and voter database compilation and distribution. He is now spending his time with his grandchildren and writing memoirs and short stories.
She heard the saw cease its whirring.
Her love stomped in, dewdrops of sweat lining his creased forehead, clutching a crude cedar carving of a heart.
He had suffered so much, and still laboured under the weight of the memories, but today, it seemed, his stomps fell a little lighter.
Happy Valentine’s Day!
This story is based on a title suggested by @PoshPlatypus.