They have been painstakingly cataloged, each with date stamps remembered vividly, ready to roll up on your shores like muscle memory, like grudge-holding tides that never forget. When you’re willing to let it go—all of it—to make amends, to say your goodbyes, let it not be too late.
Thad DeVassie is a lifelong Ohioan who writes and paints from the outskirts of Columbus. He’s grateful to be here. Find more of his work @thaddevassie.
The bullet misses her face; it deflects off the bullhorn she holds to her lips. Despite the hole in her lungs, she continues to chant as many hands lift her up and over the crowd. Then she is free, released now, at last, to be the eye, not the storm.
Carolyn R. Russell is the author of “The Films of Joel and Ethan Coen,” published by McFarland & Company in 2001. Her humorous YA mystery, “Same As It Never Was,” was released in 2018 by Big Table. Carolyn’s new YA dystopian thriller, “In the Fullness of Time,” was published by Vine Leaves Press in March of 2020. Her essays and stories include pieces for The Boston Globe, Dime Show Review, Bridge Eight, Wanderlust Journal, and Flash Fiction Magazine. She holds an M.A. in Film Studies from Chapman University, and has taught on the college, high school, and middle school levels. Carolyn lives north of Boston with her husband and two children.
Can boogeymen and fluffernutters, scraped knees and coloring books, times tables and video games, homework assignments and roller coasters, algebra problems and iPhones, fumbled kisses and glimmers of the man to be matter if they all lead to a momentary miscalculation of speed and distance on a bicycle at night?
Robert Markovich spent a lifetime in what is charitably referred to as service journalism, writing and editing stories about everything from cars to toilets, most recently at Consumer Reports. He is happily and gratefully retired.
The throngs of people erupt as the parade enters the city, my chariot at the head outshining Helios himself. The crowd cheers hysterically as I smile and turn my laureled head in recognition.
My euphoria is interrupted by a soft whisper,
Caesar, you are but a man…
Hmph, not today.
Joshua loves historical fiction and thought it might be interesting in a microfiction format, perfect for those tiny, nuanced moments in history that are never conveyed in a textbook.
He ripped loose the foil, poured, and stirred.
“And you don’t see it as a problem?” she asked.
He turned and sipped his coffee. “I do it all the time, too.”
He nodded. “He is an artist, Kathy. It is through the lie that he reveals the truth.”
JL Matthews is a Medium.com top writer of fiction, history, and humor. His writing can be found at medium.com/@JLMatthews
She’s an entrepreneur, though not of life-altering stuff. No vaccines or edu-tech.
She makes beauty potions for the uber-rich. Sells the promise of lifelong allure, at 500% profit. They buy happily.
Then she gives their money away. Feeds, shelters, medicates the destitute. Anonymously.
She’s the legal kind of Robin Hood.
Megha Nayar writes to remain sane. It is her escape from drudgery, dealing with people, and the drudgery of dealing with people.
My terminal patient’s only hope is a kidney transplant.
His estranged adult daughter returns after her mother’s death and agrees to be tested as a potential donor.
The test results cry, “Incompatible match.”
There is no proper way to tell either of them that she is not his biological daughter.
James Menges is a writer and photographer. He is a member of the Dramatists Guild of America.
I warn her not to over-water the plant in the window, but she insists that more water is needed to reach the roots. This is just like her: to do a little too much, to love a little too hard. Just like that plant, one day I, too, will drown.
Ran Walker is the author of 22 books, including the 50-word story collection THE STRANGE MUSEUM. He teaches creative writing at Hampton University in Virginia.
The autumn leaves fell in the soft breeze and swirled around Penny’s feet as she trudged down the lane. The world was dying around her, perhaps more so than in years past.
Heart heavy, she chose the biggest acorn, dug a deep hole in the yard, and planted fresh hope.
Lucinda Gunnin is a commercial property manager and author in the western Philadelphia suburbs, looking for hope that 2020 will eventually end.
The needle pierces my worn-out vein. A schism opens between mind and body, thoughts and deeds; widens as I tumble into chaos, search for your eyes in those that turn away. Waves of light bear down on me. Blasts of sound. My head meets the pavement. And there you are.
Jayne Martin lives in Santa Barbara, California. She is a Pushcart, Best Small Fictions, and Best Microfictions nominee, and a recipient of Vestal Review’s VERA award. Her collection of microfiction, “Tender Cuts,” from Vine Leaves Press, is available now through all online book sellers. See more at jaynemartin-writer.com.