The burly biker stormed in, sleeve rolled up to expose “Christina”. One glance and I knew.
As the tattoo machine drew the line, I patiently listened to him curse at her. A long silence followed.
He winced, seeing the crossed-out name through sorrowful tears. Ink could only cover, not remove.
On a lighter note, Jason is enjoying his summer.
Across the lawn, beyond
my gaze, my daughters’ voices
rise-and-falling, lilt-and-laughing,
while the robin in the dogwood
breaks a tiny tip of branch and flies away
then comes and breaks
again,
again, again,
his swoop so close, even
the thrumming of his wings
is in the breath that I exhale.
Jennifer L. Freed lives in Massachusetts, where she writes poetry, takes care of her family, and likes to play with clay, which she disguises as ceramic sculpture. She has taught ESL in China, the Czech Republic, and the U.S. This poem appears in her chapbook, These Hands Still Holding (Finishing Line Press, 2014). Please visit her website, Jfreed.weebly.com.
“I looked at her and it was love at first sight. I knew she didn’t know I existed so I hid my glances. Then she got up and walked towards me as if to say something.”
“You’re so nerdy. Everyone can hear your narration from over there. Now shut up!”
See more of Connell’s literary misadventures at paragraphplanet, home.wtd-magazine.com, and postcardshorts.com.
Arthur pulled at the sword stuck in the stone. It came out easily. The blade probably was dull, but Sir Kaye wasn’t exactly the brightest blade in Camelot. Maybe they deserved each other. Taking this sword would save Arthur a long walk, and no one would ever know, would they?
Eliza Archer drinks too much coffee and writes flash fiction, poetry, and longer fiction. She can be found daily at elizaarcher.com.
Their insignificant lives were in her hands now; she felt no mercy. How oblivious of them to invoke her wrath by trespassing. She’ll effect a flood and watch them drown in pleasure. She was their god.
“Maria, lunch!” her mom called.
She left the ant-infested candy jar open.
“After lunch…”
Yassi has won numerous titles in her lifetime including “tempestuously capricious” and “absurdly ineloquent”. She has also twice broken the Guinness World Record in Procrastination: once was in college during submission of her thesis, and the other, unfortunately, is taking place now, working on her writing assignment. Sad, really…
He didn’t mean to black her eye.
Yes, he balled up his fist, drew back, and let go.
But it was her mouth that did it. Her fault. Not his.
He barely touched her.
Yes, he meant to hit her. But the black eye? Well, that was just an accident.
Lucy Q. Williams is a social worker from the Hampton Roads area of Virginia. When she is not writing, she’s thinking about it. She is currently working on her first novel and tracks her progress on her blog at LucyQWilliams.com.
I’m tired of being a ghost. Nobody likes ghosts. I get stuck hanging out in creepy attics and scary basements. Plus, my casket list is pretty much done. All I’ve got left is the Grand Canyon and Grandma’s house. I’m hoping she’ll bake some ghost cookies for me.
Nicolas Frame is an author of short fiction, nonfiction articles, and some poetry.
Knapsack loaded with gems, I wander the market, trying to forget the smell of blood. Bananas sizzle in palm oil. Smoke, vanilla incense, and drum music fill the aisles. A one-eyed man follows me. Revenge oozes from his good eye. He fires the gun inside his shirt and I pray.
Patricia Albela-Silver lives in Los Angeles.
The organist’s drunk fingers blew atonal notes. No-one noticed: the bride was so beautiful in her dress.
Her father cried.
A child started clapping, but was silenced immediately by a sibling’s shove.
In silence she stalked the aisle, floating forward to her blissful future.
“She looks fat,” her mother-in-law said.
TL Krawec writes because why not?
Late night coffee is the only thing that helps me sleep, although most believe the opposite is true. Within the silence, nightmares of your dying rise in a silent shout and the happy buzz of caffeine deafens them.
Eventually, my mind quiets from exhaustion and your ghost releases me temporarily.
Jessica Andrews is an Event and Wedding Planner who lives in Sacramento. She also stays at home with her twin children. She was an early adopter of the E-reader and finding that such an item existed was a dream come true. If she had her druthers, she would read and write all day.