Kit hopscotches her age over the trash in the parking lot where her friend was last seen more than a month ago.
The happy little jingle is distant at first. An ice-cream truck.
A rusted white van with tinted windows.
Cecilia Dockins lives in Tennessee and spends most of her time wrangling words and parrots. She is a graduate of the Odyssey Writing Workshop. Her fiction has appeared in Sanitarium Magazine, HWA Poetry Showcase Volume I and III, and various anthologies. For more about Cecilia, check out her website at ceciliadockins.com
Her tiny fingers, entwined in mine. Soft. Delicate.
Her nod, a whisper, “It’s time.”
A click as the switch is turned off. Then…?
Darkness. No light, no tunnel, no welcome home.
Terror envelops me; tears begin to fall.
Just a fading whisper: “They never would have believed you, anyway, Mommy.”
Anita Reynolds is a writer and artist, wife and mom in the rural reaches of Tennessee. Her work is inspired by the strangeness of life, from the mundane to the magical.
She strokes the talisman as the wind howls. She kisses the rosary and climbs into the musty bed. Branches assault the battered house; rain pelts the bolted windows.
She dreams of icy lips.
The shadow beneath her bed shifts, stirs. A bony hand strokes her auburn hair. “Abigail,” he whispers.
Debbie L. Miller is a Brooklyn, New York writer. She writes short stories, plays, monologues, personal essays, memoir, flash fiction, features, and humor pieces.
Bobby prayed nightly by his bed while the moon shone down on him from the dark sky. He called it “Mr. Moon” because of the smiling face.
One night, after his prayers, he looked up to see Mr. Moon standing right outside his bedroom window.
Mr. Moon wasn’t smiling anymore.
Dan has been scribbling stories in notebooks since childhood but only recently has started sharing them via his blog. He thanks you for reading and hopes you enjoy them.
There once was a terrifying beast with shaggy hair and pointed teeth.
A pure-hearted village child possessed a magical cup. It always flowed with water, no matter how much you drank from it.
The child gave the cup to the beast, which devoured it.
Now the beast can’t stop peeing.
This story was based on a title provided by @DewMan001.