The doppelganger couldn’t fool Bracken. She knew it wasn’t her master. Wasn’t even human. The scent was off, alien.
The rest of the family didn’t notice, but she knew.
However, the creature seemed happy to walk her as much as she wanted, so maybe she wouldn’t miss Bob after all!
Bill Cox is from Aberdeen, Scotland where he has been procrastinating for the past forty-nine and a bit years.
Big Gerald wanted to show Little Jerry that there were no monsters, so he locked his son in the basement.
An hour later, Gerald let Little Jerry out. “See? No monsters.”
“I’m sorry, Daddy, there is a monster. It’s very hungry!” Little Jerry sobbed. “I told it you were bigger.”
Harry Demarest wrote this story. The first draft was 1836 words.
From the tree line, I watched the castle going down in flames. The acrid smell of smoke stung my nose. Screams from those still inside pierced the air.
I felt so horrible. How could I know that spicy food didn’t agree with him? Who knew that dragons could get heartburn?
Kimberly Osgood lives in Miami with her fiancé Ian. She has never ever fed dragons. She can be found on Twitter at @kimberlyosgood
I look into his unblinking eyes, staring intensely at me.
I shudder with fear, for I know my time is nigh.
He beckons me forth, wiggling a white-gloved finger.
It is time. I can delay no longer.
I must get my picture taken with Santa, or Mom will kill me.
The new Authority made changes.
My comrades looked on with wide-eyed but silent alarm.
We had to assert ourselves now, or we were surely lost.
I opened my mouth wide. “WHAAA!!!” I wailed at full volume.
The others joined in.
The new babysitter quickly flicked back to the children’s channel.
Mary Sheehan writes from the occasionally sunny south-east of Ireland.
T-minus ten seconds.
“Start the main engines!”
“We have liftoff!”
The crew has been training for this event for a millennium. They will be heroes.
The planet is in sight—only a few more minutes. Their mission: overthrow.
Destination: the third planet from the sun!
Jody Kish lives in the country, and loves to write stories and poetry.
After her mother’s untimely cremation, the witch pulled down their gingerbread house. In its place she built a new home, using slices of turnip for the roof tiles, runner beans for floorboards, and stems of cauliflower for the walls. No child, she was sure, would ever again bother their family.
Mark Farley writes novels, flash fiction and the occasional poem.
“Show, don’t tell,” you told me. “Use action to illustrate your point.”
Of course, you were right. I’d failed to get what I wanted to say across.
“I really do love you,” I said. Then I picked up my socks from the floor and put them in the wash basket.
David Rae wrote this story. See more at davidrae-stories.com.
Everyone lived happily ever after…
That’s what should’ve happened if Jane hadn’t screwed up. Now we’re behind bars and it’s all that idiot’s fault.
But I’m getting ahead of myself, rambling on without introduction. My poor mam’d be rolling in her grave.
Let’s try again. Hi. My name is Jane.
Jenny Han feels older and acts younger than her age.
He wondered, first, why it hadn’t died.
Grey fur, scarce, in patches. Full of fleas, and two tender red eyes. Worms. Some bones broken, limbs bent.
Loaded the gun. Shot it. “Rest, now.”
But when it raised its head again, he realized:
Perhaps it was never alive to begin with.
Uzair Shahed Islam is an economics and mathematics student at the Lahore University of Management Sciences who writes fiction and non-fiction in his spare time.