Strolling through hardbacks and softcovers. Exploring chapters, encountering soliloquies, negotiating allegories and metaphors. Words became her banquet: she drank descriptions and ate alliteration, consuming multiple volumes in a single sitting.
When they found the library empty, nobody thought of seeking her within those well-thumbed pages.
Deborah writes at an old desk surrounded by five hundred pet bugs.
Rag-gray sky, seeming
less aftermath than omen
with no horizon.
Willow stooping low,
storm-sodden. Stubborn drops cling
like unspoken thoughts.
Wild wheat seaweed-slick,
aligned like iron filings,
briskly brushed tresses.
The rain-steeped rampant
surcharged Earth, chastened magnet
scooping us along.
Ancient Cloud-Beard, hold
your ire, establish stillness
sudden as thunder.
Changing lanes (maintain your speed) past the Costco where we’d buy the diapers. Tricky exit (use your blinker) approaching his kindergarten. I look to make sure he’s checking his mirrors and see a stubbled teenager.
I count the years that disappeared. He counts the days until he can drive away.
Robb Lanum is a failed screenwriter in Los Angeles who fell in love with the short form.
Your voice, a jovial reverberation on stone.
Your scream, a rest from breathing.
Your laughter, echoing silence.
The sound of you dripping away into otherness.
Your face grins back from the dark.
Somber eyes gaze elsewhere.
You’re the reason you’re here.
You were worth it all.
And now you’re mine.
Dan writes 50-word stories for the love of the game. He hopes you enjoy them.
She stares, bewildered by wailing toddlers. Perhaps the concept of shedding earthly ties—of having no family in heaven—was too abstract a Sunday-School lesson. Shhh, children. In the afterlife, we’ll dwell in holiness. Isn’t that enough? Agree! But their voices quiver, and she can’t unhear herself in each one.
Janessa Mulepati is a writer whose creations often include elements of fantasy and horror. You can find her work in Pif Magazine, Ghost Parachute, Luna Station Quarterly, and elsewhere. See more at https://substack.com/@jlmulepati.
I stay inside and watch you leave, soaking up the rain. Soon, you will return to your own home, to your window where red begonias are hanging from terracotta pots.
My window remains bare. All the flowers are inside my lungs, sprouting from stalks that I simply can’t contain anymore.
Imaan is a writer and poet with an insatiable love for books, art, and nature. Born in Karachi, Pakistan, she has studied architecture but now dabbles in microfiction.
The story of the week for August 17 to 21 is…
Inheritance by Atif Nawaz
After my mother died, everyone speaking her name gained one gram. Doctors blamed faulty scales. Physicists questioned calibration. I whispered her name every morning until climbing stairs became impossible. Grief, I realized, wasn’t carried inside hearts. It settled quietly into bones, waiting for someone willing enough to bear it.
Atif Nawaz is a Pakistani writer whose fiction has appeared in literary magazines and journals. He writes short fiction exploring memory, identity, and the human condition. He is currently working on new flash fiction and short stories.
I knew a beautiful woman like her deserved more. That’s why my sleeves were always rolled up. She never complained, but I saw it in her eyes, the way she looked into the stores whenever we drove past.
Now she’s with her boss, a richer man.
Never felt so relieved.
Chidi Young writes from Jos, Plateau State, Nigeria. He’s a writer, photographer, graphic designer, and a content creator.
The astronaut finally reached Earth after eighty years, clutching a letter from his daughter. She had written, “Come home soon, Dad.” Time had betrayed them. Kneeling before her gravestone, he whispered, “I hurried.” The stars applauded his journey; only Earth understood that the greatest distance was never space—it was time.
Divya Kaushik is a hardworking and determined student with a deep appreciation for creativity and self-expression. An avid canvas painter and aspiring writer, she enjoys exploring emotions, ideas, and perspectives through both art and words. She believes every story has the power to inspire, connect, and spark imagination. Guided by curiosity and perseverance, Divya continuously seeks opportunities to learn, create, and grow while leaving a meaningful impression through her work.