The morning after was brisk, quiet as ice. Each exhalation a white cloud; each inhalation, gag-inducing. As I hurled another shovelful of manure from our frost-slicked roof, reindeer bristles visible in the pungent matter, Dad grumbled on the other side of the rooftop ridge that he kind of missed Krampus.
Graham Robert Scott’s stories have appeared or are forthcoming in Barrelhouse, Nature, Blink-Ink, and Pulp Literature. See more at hemicyon.wordpress.com.
First winter after Mother leaves, sister Nancy and I shovel snow, hands weighed down. Flakes fly, whirling seductresses. We clear faster. Flakes cover clearness. Nature takes. Gives people wanderlust, reveals darkness beneath starched smiles. We try to make everything perfect. Keep clearing. We trip. Keep trying. Keep tripping. Don’t surrender.
Yash Seyedbagheri is a graduate of Colorado State University’s MFA program in fiction. His work is forthcoming or has been published in journals such as 50 Word Stories, Silent Auctions, City. River. Tree., and Ariel Chart.
The bird that pecked holes below the bedroom window was back, drawn by the vibrations from the space heater. Ed rolled to face what had been Emily’s side. The cat, who purred as soon as you made eye contact, stared back. Wide-awake, they listened to the drumming of the bird.
Jon Fain has published frequently in literary, commercial, and online publications. More of his fiction can be found in the vaults of Menda City Review, Word Riot, DiddleDog, Verbsap, and Winning Writers.
Write what you know, they say
so he writes the first draft
of the fog and gravel of Route 16
all the way to work at sunrise.
Before the sun goes down
he’s revised the revised revision
until all he really thinks he knows
is what he says he’s written.
Ron. Lavalette has been widely published in both print and pixel forms. His first chapbook, Fallen Away, is now available from Finishing Line Press, and a reasonable sample of his work can be found at Eggs Over Tokyo.
You can do this, he told himself. He repeated three times the three sentences he would recite to himself while on patrol: I am a warrior of courage. I train in the middle of the fire. I go to the places that scare me.
Then he climbed out of bed.
Donald A. Ranard’s writing has appeared in The Atlantic, Flash Fiction Magazine, 100 Word Story, Byliner, The Washington Post, The Boston Globe, and elsewhere.
Stepping between moments black and sublime
He remembers the hours before the Design
How to bring this Magician back home?
How to say “Brother, your work is now done”?
Your skill unmatched we agree
But in travels so complex timeless and broad
You have never once
Been unloved or alone
Peter Li-ping sees the attraction of living outside the Law but he remembers the words of that other (somewhat romantic) master: “To live outside the law you must be honest…”
We call each place by the old names, then start building stuff − exactly as before, only nicer. And that’s most of what we have here: hope for better things.
Luckily, the locals are always super helpful. If we can just make them more like us, well, life will be perfect.
Robert Keal loves telling stories and would like to have been born in a time when sharing them around the campfire was commonplace (only, you know, without all the predatory megafauna).
She was a classic beauty, no question. Poets adored her aloof smile, her grace and mystery, and some thought they knew her, but her secrets were masked behind a reflective melancholy. Even with age she retained a certain elegance, though her glory days were over. She was sinking. Arrivederci, Venice.
Marilyn McFarlane is the author of several travel guidebooks. These days she focuses on 50 word stories, haiku poetry, and occasional essays. And she’s working on a mystery novel. It looks good so far; we shall see.
I kiss my daughter; she twists away. “No,” she says.
“Don’t you hate that?” Margie sighs. “We do enough. We deserve kisses.”
I remember uncomfortable playground embraces. Unwanted subway pawing. Nights reluctantly spent.
“No,” I say. The word is whiskey. Dark, strong, medicinal. I smile and watch the girls play.
Ashley Scott lives with her family in the Pacific Northwest. She loves writing that packs a lot into a little. You can find her short stories and flash fiction in online literary publications, including On the Premises.
He stood and looked at the clock. Three minutes before midnight, New Year’s Eve. He unfolded a worn sheet of paper and checked off “ten thousand pushups in one year.”
Two minutes, one item left. One round in the revolver; one minute. He squeezed the trigger.
The television exploded. Check.
B. C. Nance writes fiction and poetry. This story was inspired by a conversation with his good friend and fellow writer Randal Williams, whose story, “Sing, Oh Sinner,” was published In 50 Word Stories on March 6, 2019.