She should have paid attention to the warning signs, but single men were scarce.
When he said his name was Count Christoph in a drawling European accent,
she thought he was being eccentric.
He didn’t smile much so she hadn’t noticed his dentistry.
In hindsight, she really should’ve swiped left.
Jo Withers writes stories and poetry for children and older, less interesting humans. Her middle-grade, sci-fi adventure will be published in 2018.
You put me on the cake and light my wick. I want to make you happy.
But then you huff and puff to extinguish my flame. I cannot grant your wishes this way.
Then you relight me because someone else “wants a go”.
Fine, I shall now purge this party.
Joey is not a fan of birthday cakes, with or without the candles. You can visit him at joeytoey.com.
They met on Tinder and their relationship blossomed on Snapchat and Instagram. But when she watched a concert he live streamed on YouTube, she saw him kissing her BFF.
OMG!
She unfriended them and blocked their Twitter feed.
But Facebook is still recommending them as friends. What’s App with that?
Damhnait Monaghan is a Canadian now living in the UK. Her stories, real and imagined, can be found in Understorey Magazine, The Fiction Pool, Spelk Fiction and Flash Frontiers. She’s on Twitter @downith.
I force the door open. The smell of mold hits me hard. The floor undulates beneath my careful steps.
I’d finally heard the killer boast to a drinking buddy. He feared no one on this lawless, dank planet.
My lover’s dagger gleams in the kitchen light.
It’s time for justice.
Margarite Stever grew up in a tiny Missouri town. She currently lives in a larger Missouri town with her family and beloved fur babies. She writes stories and essays that touch a person’s heart and makes them feel something. Her secret identity is Ozarks Maven. You can catch her musings at ozarksmaven.com.
Three hundred years from now, they still have AA meetings. After the meetings end, before the attendees take off in their flying cars or hop on airlifts to their dingy floating halfway houses, some still chew nervously at the rims of their Styrofoam coffee cups, unable to grasp the future.
Thomas Tilton is pretty sure the coffee is mud.
Children shrieked as goblins, witches, and werewolves jumped out at them. Children screamed when they saw corpses and body parts oozing blood and gore.
It was the best haunted house ever, and the children remembered it for the rest of their lives—which, for some, was only a few seconds.
Harry Demarest Likes to write Halloween Stories. This is the first one to be published.
My cousin, a dentist, became bored with mundane extractions, fillings, and teeth whitening. So he decided to specialise in crafting vampire fangs for niche clients.
I asked him, “Why the change?”
His response? He’d simply grown tired of working in a soulless job that sucked the life out of him.
Melanie has a greater fear of visiting dentists than she has of vampires.
Bitten badly once, Linda felt twice shy. Yet Bob seemed safe.
The night he invited her over, she pecked his cheek as he opened his door.
His response: “Whoa—down, boy!”
Was she too forward, she wondered? Or was he… excited?
Then the answer struck—all furry paws and sloppy kisses.
Christa 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, The Write Room, Tanka Journal, Haiku Journal, and Every Day Fiction. Currently she resides in South Jersey with her six feline muses.
The story of the week for October 23 to 27 is…
A Yarn With a Foreign Twist by Karla Dearsley
The massive doors latched behind her nearly closing on the white satin train. Her hands shook as she clasped the lilies to her breast.
She began the long slow walk into her new life with eyes downcast.
The lilies fell as she raised her eyes and wondered: Who is he?
Pat is a retired teacher who spent 20 years trying to convince 13-year-olds that algebra is valuable.