The story of the week for May 4 to 8 is…
Vigil by Paul D’Arcy
PHIL W BAYLES: Cognitive Debt
I took my dose of Algernol half an hour ago. They said it should take affect quiet quickly.
Couldnt pay my bills so the bank took cognitive debt insted.
Ignore ants is bliss they sed. Dont remember why.
i can feel my mind slipping away
i hop it coms bak
Phil W. Bayles read the phrase “cognitive debt” in an article recently and found it utterly terrifying.
PAUL D’ARCY: Vigil
She orders the salad.
Has for nine years. Every dinner, every work lunch, every birthday where someone else chose the restaurant.
At home, she eats standing at the counter while her family sleeps.
Not much. Not nothing.
Only enough to keep the number she carries in her head from changing.
Paul D’Arcy tells stories. All real. Most brief. You can read more at pauldrc.com.
CHRIS DOLAN: Everyday Sun
That year I wore an ugly Christmas sweater, three dinosaurs as wisemen, all summer to hide the track marks. I could have moved back in with my parents, but then they’d know Tammi had left. I spent days watching birds and holding my breath—scared of knocking them off course.
Chris Dolan works in the automotive industry and is the founding editor of One Fall Review. He is angry about the nitrate levels in Iowa’s drinking water. Reader at Black Fox Literary Magazine and Flash Fiction Magazine. Chris’s work has appeared or is forthcoming in Strange Horizons, Maudlin House, and The Disappointed Housewife. Find him on Bluesky @mcdolan.bsky.social or at dolanchris.com.
AMANDA GARZIA: Statement Piece
The cross-studded cuff is my signature, now.
No hooks. No clasps. But not why.
The Knights’ octet of virtues? Not quite.
Forced forward, buffeted by Things That Must Be Done—cancel morphine, draft causa mortis, submit to rising reminders for hubby’s apparel.
Wrist adorned, I’m eight again, emulating Wonder Woman.
At age 12, Amanda created Penpal Magazine. She has written for Times of Malta and anthologies by AotFFWC, Chris Fielden’s Authors of the Flash Fiction Writing Challenges. She is one of six administrators of this global group’s Facebook page.
SAMEEKSHA V: Ghost at the Feast
One day, we’ll meet for lunch; surprise me! Alfredo for me & arrabbiata for you. You’ll talk like nothing’s changed and I’ll hope you choke on everything you never said. The waiter hands me the bill & your old leftover laugh haunts me. You still haven’t come to surprise me!
Sameeksha is a reader, writer, and a soon-to-be engineering student. When she’s not busy gobbling down books, you can find her drinking filter coffee or talking about drinking filter coffee. You can find her on sameeksha.me or @samvksha.
MICHAEL THEROUX: Ya Gotta Wonder
Me? I shoulda got it years ago. I’ve used up a cat and a half. When you don’t know why you’re still around, you gotta wonder. What’ll it be: one more bite, when enough’s enough? The Mundane is going to get you, when you’ve dodged all the Really Big Stuff.
He Is, therefore he writes. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t, so when he’s not, he won’t anymore. He thinks…
STORY OF THE MONTH: April 2026
The Story of the Month is chosen from the Story of the Week winners announced from the past month.
The finalists for April were:
Wearing Clouds by Angela Carlton
A Prescription by Jinjia Grace Hu
Life of the Party by Marc Young
Catching Angels by Alyson Floyd
Collect by Paul D’Arcy
The winner of the April 2026 Story of the Month is…
Catching Angels
JOE PEARSON: Babe, Are You Popping to the Supermarket?
Milk. Eggs. Sliced bread for the kids’ lunches. Those little biscuits Dave likes. Bin bags. Loo roll. Birth control pills. A road map of Europe. Some screamy death metal. Energy drink. A full tank of petrol. A glance in the rear view mirror. The horizon. A sunset. Wild, open night.
Joe Pearson is a British fiction writer living in Paris. His shopping lists aren’t this dramatic. You can find more of his writing at joepearsonwriter.com.
MEG POKRASS: Hope Ranch Summers
Gone are the summers where she stood in the downtrodden orchard picking leathery tangerines with white fuzzy splotches, trying to find a good one. Gone are the melted ice cream nights on the unmown lawn next to the golden retriever who, when she lifted his paws, danced in her arms.
Meg Pokrass lives in the Scottish Highlands. Her work has appeared in numerous literary journals including New England Review, Electric Literature and Five Points. She’s the founding editor of Best Microfiction.