Their radar shadow caused widespread panic, evoking everything from unknown weapons to aliens. Now they ghost down, shimmering and flamboyant, vivid patterns overwhelming the air. Settle into welcoming flowers, elegant mouthparts uncurling, uncaring. Why should they care? They’ve existed for 200 million years.
We’re merely a wingbeat in their time.
Deborah writes at an old desk surrounded by five hundred pet bugs.
I once saved a thought for a gray, rainy day;
the sunshine was bright when I hid it away.
When a storm came along, it was too wet to play.
I could not find it then, so my plans went agley
and wherever it was, it is still there today.
Ken Gosse prefers writing short, rhymed traditional verse with whimsy and humor. First published in First Literary Review–East in November 2016, he is also in 50-Word Stories, Pure Slush, Parody, Home Planet News Online, and other publications. Raised in the Chicago suburbs, now retired, he and his wife have lived in Mesa, AZ, over twenty years.
Puddles were forming.
It was too late to cross safely.
We risked it.
“Save yourself,” said my father
When the current pulled us off course.
It was good advice.
I’ve been doing it ever since.
I learned something else that day⸺
When in peril, others will stand by
And watch.
Jenny Logan lives in Edinburgh. She is regularly featured by Friday Flash Fiction and has stories selected for publication by Dark Rose Press and Iron Faerie Publishing.
Carefully retrieved, the smooth ceramic warms my palms.
The bag promised none of the memories that soon blossom in my mind.
Just as well, for if the tea makers knew their power over me I might be broke on chamomile alone. Nonetheless, I thank them for echoes of the past.
Elody Dawn is a joyful mother of three. She studied anthropology before turning to writing full-time. In partnership with her husband, she writes on relationships and how to form deeper connections with the ones that you love.
Secrets whispered in the park, she finds, become facts. Light ones, slight ones, but facts all the same.
To be picked up by the wind.
And occasionally the big girls.
Blown like fallen blossom around town.
Settling on pavements, doorsteps.
And before long you’ll find the priest knows your name.
Rachel Canwell is a writer and teacher living in Cumbria. She is currently working on a flash collection and her first novel which was shortlisted for the Retreat West Pitch to Win 2021. Her short fiction has been published in Sledgehammer Lit, Pigeon Review, Reflex Press, Selcouth Station and The Birdseed amongst others. See more at bookbound.blog/writing.
I’ve always wondered what it was like to fly. Gliding between the sky and the earth, attached to neither. The midnight air whipping against my face, hair flying out behind me, believing for a second that I am immune to the chains of gravity.
But the ground came too soon.
Sarah Nassar is an English Literature student living and writing in Egypt. She has one published story called “Of Guns and Roses”.
On my home planet of Loran
A wonderful change occurs at sunrise.
The black night sky changes to dark purple,
Indigo and finally verdant-green of day.
Melodic sounds are heard everywhere
Brought by morning windstorms
Soft sounds floating through air
Filling the planet with mellow songs
Enriching Loran’s magnificent sunrise.
Hazel Ann Lee is a Black American author and scientist of poems, novels, short stories and articles on science fiction and fantasy, education and science. Her book of original science poems and science fiction short stories is titled The Astronaut’s Window: Collection of Poems and Short Stories Celebrating Nature. Her poetry was published in Star*Line, Utopia and Frost Zone Zine. Her short story was also published in Frost Zone Zine. Her next book of poetry, Poems On, Above and Between Earth will be published next year.
She bounced side to side, arms swaying to the music. The beat changed. Her hair lifted as she leapt in the air. Delightedly, the room spun while she twirled, head back, laughing.
Her smile broadened.
And though just a memory from her convalescent bed, she swore she was dancing still.
Christa Planko, MA, is a professional writer with a passion for creative expression. She has had her poetry and short stories featured in several publications, including River Poets Journal, Tanka and Haiku Journal, Poetry Quarterly, and Every Day Fiction. Recently, her story, “The Olde-Tyme Village,” won the 2021 WordCrafter Short Fiction Contest. Christa resides in South Jersey with her feline muses. For her bio and list of published works, visit christascorner.godaddysites.com.
The story of the week for July 4 to 8 is…
Poor Devilish Me by Bob Thurber
and
The Survivor by Gene Newman
“I’m sailing home” cried Ezra Bligh
through cracked and blistered lips.
That night I wept and watched him die
while hailing phantom ships.
I lived a week till rescue came
but the price I paid was high.
The man who tells this tale of shame
survived on poor Ezra Bligh.
Gene Newman took this excerpt from a longer poem he wrote some time during the last century.