Last call.
A silent man still sat at the mahogany bar, hours after ordering a single drink, still staring at his scotch glass, yet to take a single sip.
His eyes were cold and sober. “I’m done,” he muttered to himself. “I’ve had my last drink.”
And then he left.
Ketevan is a Georgian university student who is currently pursuing a degree in Computer Science. She writes in her free time and aspires to one day publish a book.
“Bless you,” the stranger said.
“Take it back!” was my response, as I sniffed and wiped my nose on my sleeve.
Her eyes widened. “What? Why?” Her disgust and disapproval at my rudeness danced in her eyes and voice.
“It burns,” was all I could say.
Then I sneezed again.
Chad Bunch writes speculative fiction from the suburbs of Saint Louis. He is currently trying his darnedest to publish two novels and several short stories.
Sometimes we treat ourselves to Starbucks coffee, sitting outside to people watch.
“You’re so inspiring, Mom, teaching me to fend for myself. My kids are driving me bananas! Growing up, you made it all look so easy.”
“It will get better,” she insists, smiling knowingly like the perfect Indian princess.
Lisa Miller wrote this story.
Trading is difficult. Markets are changing constantly. To win you must predict everything. It pushes you to move fast: confidently, decisively. Competitors won’t spare you. What are their intentions?
“I rolled 7! Everybody who has more than 7 resource cards should discard half.”
What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger.
Alexey writes in English to master the language, and publishes stories at medium.com/@sonicCat.
Every tick of the clock reverberated throughout the vast lecture hall. The biology students stared blankly as the lecture dragged on—monotonous drivel about clinical study results.
Post hoc, ad hoc, quid pro quo…
Twenty minutes in, only the snores made sense, and the rumbling from my stomach.
“Class dismissed.”
Christa is a medical writer with a passion for creative expression. She has had her poetry and short stories featured in several publications, including River Poets Journal, Tanka / Haiku Journal, Rune Bear, and Every Day Fiction. Currently she resides in South Jersey with her five feline muses.
As an adventurous toddler, I was a little unsteady. Dad held my hand, guided me, protected me from falling.
Fifty years later, he’s a little unsteady. I hold his hand, guide him, protect him from falling.
He smiles at me, a grown woman to others, but always his little girl.
Lisa Chambers is a Texas girl who always enjoys a good story.
We sat by dad’s deathbed, my sisters and I. He opened his eyes and stared at us with urgency.
“You only ever got to know my shell,” he said. “Quick; I gotta show you!”
Curious, we all leaned forward on our chairs and waited.
But he never said anything more.
David Derey wrote this story.
By the Angsana tree I sit, waiting for her arrival, but reading becomes dreaming once the Angsana’s crown starts weaving a lullaby with the breeze.
In dreams, gliding, she surpasses my wake and I, receding, cannot reach her pace.
I awaken to remember that here too she has passed me.
Benjamin Lo is an English undergraduate student from Nanyang Technological University trying to understand life. In his spare time, he is trying to complete a short story collection.
At the park, my daughter whines. Too hot, icky sunscreen, more juice. “Four-year-olds,” I say.
“Not mine,” another mom says, her face smug. “We parent like gravity.”
“Gravity?”
Her daughter screams, dangling by one foot off the monkey bars. “You’re fine!” the mom yells.
Never-whining girl faceplants into the woodchips.
Hadley Leggett is a writer and stay-at-home mom in Seattle, WA. When she’s not chasing after children, she’s working on the second draft of her first novel.
The story of the week for August 19 to 23 is…
Discordant by Lisa Alletson