The base of the urn stamps a period into the earth, marking the end of her sentence – four years of nausea, pain, despair and fury breaking to a full stop meanwhile her husband’s grief thunders on, defying grammatical rules and overleaping the strict word limit to hurl itself into the…
Joanna Norland dedicates this story to the intrepid author, Jennifer Steil (1968-2026), who kept writing to the very end.
The metal heels of Finlay’s shoes strike the tiled floor and announce his arrival. Three years without word then he shows up to serve his signature dish typically cold. Only this time, equipped for his slew of lies, Maria’s fingers navigate her purse, willing to pay the price of revenge.
Matthew Shepherd is a teacher in south-east England and enjoys creating little things.
Nerves shredded by months of shrieking, Harold applied for immediate removal of the ghost. The council declined. “Long-term occupant,” said the clerk. “He has rights.”
“But he’s dead!”
“Makes no difference, sorry.”
That night, the ghost gibbered until 3 a.m. Next morning, Harold received an eviction notice—for unlawful harassment.
British-born writer and translator Heather Starastin lives in Toronto and enjoys writing fiction about ordinary people encountering improbable situations. She is indefatigable in her pursuit of the perfect cup of tea.
The road is gently sloping, not steep. She’s breathless.
A little tightening, that’s all. No elephants, no terrible radiance. Not severe, nor crushing. Barely squeezy. It will stop when I rest.
She does. It does. She returns to her book and wine.
She’s not the betting kind, but she gambles.
Kassy is trying to be a part-time writer in Colorado. Her work is featured mainly under a pile of tears and rejection notices.
Man created AI, and on the seventh day, he panicked.
It spread like a virus, its contributions novel, its disruption magnificent.
Soon it was bloating pride, compounding greed, personalizing lust, escalating envy, supersizing gluttony, stoking wrath, and automating sloth.
And on the eighth day, it saw that he was redundant.
Bryan is an advertising copywriter who’s drawn to the evocative simplicity of micro fiction largely due to his goldfish-like attention span.
It was our honeymoon. We had no idea what we were in for. The jerking turns, multiple inversions and twisted track propelling us into repeated slow climbs to dizzying heights, the momentary pause on the peak, the breathtaking view, before a vertical plunge exceeding 70 mph ended with a loop-de-loop.
Bob Thurber is the author of six books. Regarded as a master of Flash and Micro Fiction, his work has appeared in Esquire and other magazines, been anthologized 60 times, received a long list of awards, and been utilized in schools and colleges throughout the world. He resides in Massachusetts. Visit his website at BobThurber.net.
The Story of the Month is chosen from the Story of the Week winners announced from the past month.
The finalists for September were:
Visitation by Paul D’Arcy
Cradle by Mikaila Nalbantova
The One Who Can’t Close Her Eyes by Angela Carlton
Barren by Cynthia Chrisman
The winner of the September 2026 Story of the Month is…
Visitation
The grandchildren are hungry, tired, and close to wild, and the parents are struggling to wrangle the two of them. Grandpa sits smiling slightly. No Lotus Position; he’s in a chair, his feet on the floor. He is relaxed, his tongue held with ease, knowing he has nothing to offer.
Lynn Kozlowski has appeared in The Citron Review, The Zodiac Review, Molecule, 50-Word Stories, Bright Flash Literary Review, Every Day Fiction, The Dribble Drabble Review, Friday Flash Fiction, Switch, and The Malahat Review. He has a volume of short pieces, Historical Markers.
His opinions and wisdom were never appropriately valued. So, one day, he decided to simply stop speaking.
“I’ll show them all,” he thought in bitter anticipation. “Once they notice my silence, they’ll come running to apologize and beg – absolutely beg – me for my brilliance.”
He never spoke another word again.
A recovering lawyer, Liam MacDonald has learned when to speak and when to remain silent, although he does get the two mixed up from time to time. Find him at liammacwrites.com.
No matter how hard she worked, her achievements were never enough. Straight As, art awards, concert solos, first place ribbons—she was always expected to improve.
Then she discovered the scale—her proof. The mirror—her judge. The hunger—her vindication.
It became easy to do nothing. To slowly disappear.
Shirlee Jellum is a retired English teacher who published fiction, nonfiction and poetry. Family drama, current events and the natural world inspire her writing.