I watch father through a panel of glass.
I long to remove my mask and give him a hug, but the nursing home will not allow it.
Perhaps tomorrow, I tell myself.
Be patient.
For him, you have all the time in the world.
Marjan Sierhuis loves reading 50-word stories.
When her heel snapped, she literally fell into his arms.
Embarrassed laughter, quick smiles, then hasty apologies – she was late. Now hobbled, she’d be even later. Impulse seized him; he called her a taxi, paid for it as she zipped away.
He picked up the broken heel, thinking of Cinderella.
Rebecca Ruvinsky is a student, poet, and emerging writer in Orlando, Florida. She has kept a streak of writing a poem every day since 2016, with her poetry being featured on Poetry on the Move. She loves baking cookies, watching rocket launches, and listening to music too loud. She can be found at @writeruvinsky.
She didn’t need her smile after her husband died, so she gave it to her daughter, who was pregnant. Years later, she looked up to see someone walk through her door. It was her old friend the smile, now with short legs and rosy cheeks.
“Have some cookies,” she said.
C.M.F. Wright writes sentences that occasionally turn into stories. Her short stories have appeared in 50-Word Stories, Syntax & Salt Magazine and the VSS365 Anthology.
The widower, Mr. Rochester, didn’t pick up his rose bouquet today. He says roses remind him of his beautiful wife.
His neighbor, Mr. John, walked in the next day. He asked, “Do you have Yellow Pansy?”
I answered, “No. Why?”
“Pansy would remind me of my good friend, Mr. Rochester.”
Lea is a ghost writer who hides in another person’s shadow. She came out today to write stories again.
Thinking of you is like sipping my second cup of coffee of the day: not a yearning rush, just savoring the dreamy warmth and bittersweetness. My eyes will still moisten suddenly, fogged in the aroma of the past, when my fingers run across your old ring laced with green patina.
Lorna Ye writes flash fiction and poetry. She enjoys listening to soft jazz and trying new recipes.
Nancy vanquishes electronic rejections from lit mags, slays alumni newsletters, and eliminates campaign letters.
They call her, “Dear Nancy.”
She prefers Nance, Nanny, old nicknames conveying light footsteps, laughter, whispered secrets. She wishes they’d ask about her worst day. Her favorite movie.
Empty spaces taunt.
Full inboxes hide so much.
Yash Seyedbagheri is a graduate of Colorado State University’s MFA program in fiction. His work is forthcoming or has been published in WestWard Quarterly, Café Lit, and Ariel Chart, among others.
Mom shuffles to the car, back stooped, frustrating tremors slowing her progress.
Walker, bed rail, shower seat, suitcase, and a box rattling with pills are packed for her visit.
She struggles to fasten her seatbelt, so I help.
“Thanks… Getting old isn’t for wimps, you know.”
I smile, feeling blessed.
Tawnia is an elementary teacher in Ontario who started writing a few years ago. You can find her on Twitter @TawniaCourage.
A bright morning
The blue skies and waves
Toes in the sand
I sip coffee
As two children
Search the shore
“Hey dad look”
They call out all the marvels they explore
Dad oblivious with cellphone to ear
Smiles and nods
A moment
Absorbed
With warmth
From a casual stranger
Sometimes life’s moments get lost.
The paper cranes are folded from receipts for doctors, buses and climate magazines, from my five year old’s drawings of our family, prescriptions for her meds, sweet wrappers and cigarette packets, and hang now to be counted, over her hospital bed, one more for every day since she didn’t die.
Rosaleen Lynch, an Irish community worker and writer in the East End of London, pursues stories whether conversational, literary or performed and believes in the power of words to make the world a better place.
Sarah lowers the wine bottle into the recycling bin and places it onto the stack below. It doesn’t make a sound. She’s practised at this. At silence.
In the living room, the laptop sits open at the grocery page. It suggests Pampers. She adds wine and tampons to her order.
R. J. Kinnarney’s short story, The Blue Bowl, was runner-up in the Daunt Books short story competition. They have been longlisted in Retreat West flash fiction competitions. Their work has been published in The Write In and 100 Words of Solitude. They are currently working on a novel, which looks at attitudes to war, together with changing methods and speed of communication.