I would only take my mask off for her.
The fresh air is incredible, at odds with my recycled sickness. She reaches for my hand; I withdraw like I’ve been conditioned to. I give in. Her face is warm and flushed, perfect, just how I remember. Mine is unevenly unshaven.
Jonathan H. Smith (@JHSmithMD) is a physician and author living in Arizona.
The convert secured the offering. “Shouldn’t we be doing this during a lunar eclipse instead?”
The priest pulled a dagger from his robe. “We worship shadows caused by the moon, not the moon itself.”
“I’m not sure that’ll stop people from calling you ‘lunatics,'” muttered the woman on the altar.
Pontius Paiva is a minister of microfiction in service of the short story. Seekers can find him at pontiuspaiva.com.
I reach the end of my street and here comes Mr. No-Mask, huffing and puffing like a freight train. I back up, let him pass. One block later, Ms. Cell Phone comes walking and talking, oblivious.
I just go home and read today’s forecast: ninety percent chance of “no walk”.
Paul Bluestein is a physician (no longer practicing) and a blues musician (still practicing). He used to go for walks on the beach where he could think about he past, wonder about the future and lose his sunglasses.
It started with surreptitious phone calls. Overheard whispers about holding her… “she’s the one.” How could he?!
Jenna’s heart raced as his car pulled up. Ready to confront, she threw open the door to find him cradling Millie, their new Labrador puppy.
Moral: distrust can be ruff, but fur-giveness heals.
Lisa Chambers is a Texas girl who enjoys writing and appreciates the amazing writers of Fifty-Word Stories.
He set the bottle down at the door, grunting as his back popped. He wiped the troll blood off his sword, toed off his muddy boots, and shook leaves out of his hair. Satisfied, he picked up the bottle and entered.
“I’m home!” he shouted. “And I brought the milk!”
Anthony Lora is a serial and short fiction writer living in Orlando. Follow him on Twitter at @AnthonyLFiction and find a free set of his flash fiction on Patreon.
Who stole my youth?
When I hired a detective, he discovered the truth. “They were in it together, these two,” he said, passing me their photos.
Father Time showed no remorse, his face kind and gentle.
Mother Nature was unrepentant. “Honestly, darling,” she said when questioned, “what did you expect?”
Kate Fellowes has published six mysteries, most recently A Menacing Brew. Her short stories have appeared in many publications, from Woman’s World to Crimestalker Casebook. Working in a public library, every day is a busman’s holiday for her. She blogs at katefellowes.wordpress.com.
“I’ve never seen ovarian cysts in a man’s neck before,” said the doctor, snapping his gloves off.
“Pardon me,” I said, “but I came here about the rash on my hand.”
I held up the offending appendage.
He stared at it for a while and eventually declared: “…That’s athlete’s foot.”
Harris Coverley has fiction published or forthcoming in The Scribe, Trembling With Fear, and The J.J. Outre Review. He is also a Rhysling-nominated poet, with forthcoming verse in Spectral Realms, Corvus Review, The Oddville Press, and many others.
Another day of wonder with my toddler.
I can only do so many unique voices and only one at a time. That’s why Mr. Elephant and Mr. Rabbit sound alike. She’s not pleased. I take her notes and will be better prepared for tomorrow’s encore.
I should’ve minored in theater.
Christina Marie Diamond is a storyteller residing in Hong Kong with her spouse and daughter. When she’s not being creative, the Brooklyn, NY native and her family are busy traveling around Asia.
One day, a man asked a woman, “Can you swim?”
The woman replied, “Umm, no.”
The man exclaimed, “Ha, you’re worse than a dog.”
She asked, “Well, can you swim?”
At once he retorted, “Of course I can!”
She responded, “Then what is the difference between you and a dog?”
Amy has a passion for writing and has just recently taken an interest in 50-word stories. She hopes you enjoy her first 50-word story!
It was 1918. Grandpa loved his 9 grandchildren, but the Flu was deadly, so whenever a grandchild approached, he held up his hand, and shouted, “Hey!”
His grandkids still loved him, but they never hugged.
They started calling him “Heypappy”, and that’s how it was for his remaining 25 years.
Harry Demarest wrote this true story about his great grandfather, Franklin Conklin.