The story of the week for November 22 to 26 is…
The Sun Also Drifts by Sam Hall
KATIE BEASLEY: Be Good
Charlotte didn’t know this would be their last conversation.
When she said goodbye, her grandpa had one request: “Be Good.”
She gave a warm hug and left the hospital room with puddled eyes.
He would be gone when she returned from camp, but his words would stay with her forever.
Kate Beasley wrote this story.
COURTNEY H: Leaving
Leaves have always intrigued me. They come and go, leaving transparent signs of their departure. First, you see sides of them you never knew. Next, they become a disturbance, lifeless on the ground. Then they’re gone.
People are like leaves. I wish I saw the signs when you were here.
Courtney H. wrote this story.
S: New Beginnings
Warm air brings new beginnings; tree blossoms bloom with adolescent excitement for summer love. The day is spent in nervous anticipation of our first date, and when darkness comes I slink out my window and step outside, endless possibilities ahead. Our hands link in the darkness. My heart flutters. “Hi.”
S wrote this story.
THAD DeVASSIE: Autumn Dichotomy
It happens every year like clockwork – green goes to gold and eventually to brittle brown, decay becomes beautiful and the tickle in the back of the throat is unbearable; it is then and there and all at once that longings to pause are met with those insatiable pleas to accelerate.
Thad DeVassie is a multi-genre writer and painter from the outskirts of Columbus, Ohio. His collection, SPLENDID IRRATIONALITIES, was awarded the 2020 James Tate International Poetry Prize. His microchap YEAR OF STATIC contains micro prose with eleven original paintings. Find him online at @thaddevassie.
GRAHAM ROBERT SCOTT: Conversion Moment
Jake remained bullish on AI until—planning for guests at an overseas lodge and unable to remember conversion formulae—he asked Siriexa, “What, in Celsius, is the ideal temperature for humans?” and was told eighty degrees was perfect for low and slow cooking that would have meat falling right off the bone.
Graham Robert Scott’s micro-stories have appeared in The Arcanist, Blink-Ink, The Drabble, and others.
SAM HALL: The Sun Also Drifts
Outside their window the sun was rising. It rose so high that soon it was just a distant speck, the faintest star in the sky, and then it disappeared entirely. Outside their window the world grew dark and turned to ice. With nothing more to see, they closed the curtains.
Sam Hall is a young writer from England.
JOAN I GOODMAN: Armageddon Toilet
You brought toilet paper
cradled in your arms like a prize piglet
like a rare book or antique,
proof of your friendship and generosity
in a time when people lost their senses
and quarreled over paper products,
emptied store shelves for a hundred miles
fighting over provisions.
Armageddon had arrived.
Joan I. Goodman wrote this story.
MIA BAMMANN: Monsters
My mother says that monsters do not exist.
She claims this with such confidence.
She tucks me into bed and says that there is nothing under my bed or in my closet. But she hasn’t looked.
If she had, she would have found the decaying body of her actual daughter.
Mia Bammann has been writing ever since she could hold a pencil, and even before then, she would tell fantastical stories. She loves reading, singing, drawing, and being creative! She strives to publish a novel sometime in the future as well as graduate college with a degree in elementary education.
PAMELA HORITANI: Into the Dusk
Blue jays chattered and fluttered in the sunlight. I handed mom white lilies, and we enjoyed homemade sandwiches and caught up on the past year. At the clank of the gates, I planted the lilies in the soil above her, and drove off into the dusk.
Pamela is a poet who loves to travel. This year, she became a published.