The new tugboat sits on piles of timbers, ready for launch. The horns blare repeatedly before it starts sliding toward the water, timbers falling away as the tug goes over the edge of the slip. It splashes and almost tips over before righting itself in the sea. Yeah, that’s me.
After decades of nattering on about moving abroad, Ed Walker finally retired and is currently living in Catalunya, Spain. His work can be found in 50-Word Stories, The Arcanist, Blink-Ink and elsewhere.
After the hurricane, a pink plastic flamingo landed in our yard, one leg snapped clean. Mama wanted to throw it away. I propped it beside the porch instead. For weeks, she kept straightening its crooked neck before work, like something ruined could still be expected to stand pretty.
Bethany Bruno is a Floridian author whose fiction and nonfiction often explore history, place, and the strange beauty of Florida. She holds a BA in English from Flagler College and an MA from the University of North Florida. Her work has appeared in The New York Times, The Threepenny Review, The Sun, McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, River Teeth’s Beautiful Things, and The Huffington Post. Learn more at bethanybrunowriter.com.
She claims she grows those flowers for their beauty, but she’s careful to pick any tempting berries before foraging birds can find them.
Drinking always makes him worse. He downs another, pleased she’s silent now. Sits alone to eat the food she’s prepared, never noticing the bitterness in every mouthful.
Deborah writes at an old desk surrounded by five hundred pet bugs.
I handed over three passports.
“You are without visa.”
“Yes.”
“You must be deported.”
“I know.”
“There is fine. 1,500 lei cash.”
We gathered bills. “I don’t have 1,500.”
“Not child. 1,000.”
“I have 870.”
“Ok. 800.” She took the cash and sent us to the deportation office for paperwork.
Chris Deca teaches internationally and has lived in seven countries. His writing draws on travel, education, and life in unexpected places, including a monastery kitchen and a camper.
What delicate, ornate engravings the old keys have. Erin discovers them behind her recently purchased farmhouse’s shed.
She’s captivated by their descriptions, for different cellars: root, wine, cheese, beer. Where could they be?
Digging in her overgrown backyard garden, she excitedly hits thick stonework.
Another inscription becomes unearthed: Here Lies…
Sara Kate Egan finds inspiration in a diverse natural world surrounding her in the Upper Midwest, be it wild woodlands, Great Lakes, colorful prairies, or curious critters within such special places. Writing locally flavored microfiction is her favorite thing, although sometimes a nice enough poem will strike. Watch out, world!
His mother loved the melody of leaves flapping in the woods beside Nickajack Lake where she camped on summer nights, so she named him Aspen. He’d grow up tall, she decided. Sturdy. He believed her till age six when he heard his name on boys’ lips shouted across a playground.
Shoshauna loves how flash fiction cuts to the chase, and is grateful to find stories all over the place.
It’s only after she touches your sleeve that you realize you’ve been wet this whole while. How long were you outside in all this? An hour? An afternoon? You can’t say. But when she reaches her arms out it hits you: all this time all you wanted was the warm.
Arik M.’s work has been published under a variety of names. If you think you see him, say Hi.
Two hands entwined together. One human and cold, the other mechanical yet warm. He whispered, “I’m home,” though she could never answer. Every update preserved her voice, her smile, her habits. Love survived. She didn’t. He finally understood the difference between memory and presence at last, letting go anyway, forever.
Kaavya Rajan is a high school student from India. She has been published in magazines such as In the Mood and journals like Apotheca and Crashtest. She enjoys reading and watching tennis in her free time.
The story of the week for July 13 to 17 is…
To Teach Unlearning by Maria Cargille