Shimmering
shimmering
skimming
inches above water
lifting hard into the wind
higher
higher.
Coming about
in perfect arch
heads forward
obsidian wings
unshackled
lead goose banks away
and falls back.
Gaining the slipstream
she radios her new position: honk
honk, honk
rested comrade pushes forward
takes point: honk
honk
honk.
Matthew’s good fortune brought him to Maine. He tries to be present and let go of all the stuff that came before. He observes and writes.
At the planets’ meeting, the mood is grim.
“I’m losing my rings,” says Saturn. “Soon I’ll be bald like Jupiter.”
“You think you have it bad?” Earth laughs. “I’m infested with humans! They poison my climate and seas.”
Someone bangs on the window.
“Let me in,” Pluto yells from outside.
C.M.F. Wright writes sentences that occasionally turn into stories. Her short stories have appeared in Daily Science Fiction, 50-Word Stories, and Syntax & Salt Magazine.
You’re moving, and I will miss the laughter
your joyful children make in the early morning hours.
It won’t be the same when I sit outside
Because although the bird’s songs are beautiful, the voices
of your children laughing are grand.
Why must you take away my heart’s only medicine?
Katherine Darlington has articles in many publications including poetry anthologies, and literary journals. She also has several published novels. See more of her work at www.katherinedarlington.com.
Wandering through the beautiful Sintra forest, I marveled at the trees, so tall and strong: a gargantuan sentinel army, protecting inhabitants against the elements.
But each perfectly straight trunk leans strangely, parallel all. Daily pummeling from heavy winds takes its toll.
Submissive they bow, slaves to a more powerful master.
Saaiqa has always been interested in writing and is finally having a go.
He holds the tweezers unsteadily over her finger, attempting to pull out the dark splinter that protrudes minimally from her whorled skin. She curses at his clumsiness, wonders aloud at his ineptness. He silently wishes for tweezers that could reach into her soul, to pull out the dark sliver there.
Bill lives in Aberdeen, Scotland, where he navigates the collapse of society with a forced cheerfulness that hides the screaming void within.
The bow tie is new. Straw hat, too.
His face: not new. The shop where he bought it is gone, a swanky bistro there now.
He orders a salad.
Dentures bite, grind, clack; it’s not worth $24.
Eyes—original to the face—mist.
He apologizes and tips the server well.
Karen writes short in a low Canadian basement. Her work is in or forthcoming in FlashBack Fiction, Emerge Literary Journal, Reflex Fiction, Bullshit Lit, Blank Spaces, Ghost City Press, Alien Buddha Press, and others. She/her. Follow her at @MeKawalker883
The story of the week for October 3 to 7 is…
What Dew Felt Like by Sarah Grace Tuttle
The angel tells me how proud he is while the devil urges me to be selfish for once.
The angel pushes me further, yet it’s the devil who mourns as I break.
I thought I listened to the right one, but looking at my deteriorating body, I’m not sure anymore.
Josephine Rudolf is a writer from Berlin, Germany. She loves writing Micros and Flash fiction because in those every word counts.
I planted a Forget-Me-Not
in a very lovely spot
to give my love on its first bloom
and waft its scent throughout our room.
I looked again—it isn’t there.
I’m certain that she doesn’t care.
I don’t know now where it may be,
but I know she’s forgotten me.
Ken Gosse wrote this poem.
We found the silver jumpsuit piled beneath the old oak tree. Stuffed it with hay to use as a scarecrow in the cornfield. Really frightens the birds!
Later, we found the matching helmet in the creek bed, with the oblong skull still inside. Pa uses it for a Halloween decoration.
Hillary founded and for 20 years acted as senior editor for the independent poetry publisher, Subsynchronous Press. Her short stories, drabbles, and poems have appeared in numerous print and online publications. Hillary also creates illustrations for horror/sci-fi, and pulp fiction sites. See more at hillarylyon.wordpress.com.