When Memaw coughed, her tooth came out. It landed in the icing, next to the candle.
I didn’t know a tooth could make a whole cake taste like sand. That’s a kind of magic.
Forks and grit and smiles; we pretend dying tastes like cake. Performing ritual. Hoping for magic.
Cheryl is a writer, scientist, and mom hiding out in the American Midwest.
Auntie Lou’s a singer-songwriter. If a tune doesn’t wander too far from middle C, she can keep up with it. She wrote “Unconditional” in one afternoon, but the surprise-hit B side, “Hopeless,” was her life’s work.
Marriage taught me she got it backwards. The flipside of unconditional is enduring hope.
Miriam N. Kotzin writes fiction and poetry. She is the author of five collections of poetry, two collections of short fiction, and two novels—most recently the novel Right This Way (Spuyten Duyvil). Her 50-word stories have been published in 50-Word Stories, 50 Give or Take, and Blink Ink. She teaches literature and creative writing at Drexel University.
A red thread is on the ground. You’re surrounded by the walls. Somewhere in this labyrinth there’s a monster hiding.
Suddenly there’s a sound – a step.
It’s just behind the angle.
You come out first.
That’s a young man with a shield in his hand.
He sees you – he screams.
Vera Podell is a Russian-born writer and photo artist. She writes in three languages which are English, Russian and German. Vera tends to experiment a lot with her writing style, primarily focusing on the themes of memory and how to forms our identity.
A client bought me omiage. It means travel memento. It was a sweet cake from an earthquake-devastated town. When I bit into it, the papery crust crackled, suddenly soft inside. He showed me photos of swollen roads and fallen homes. So sad, I said, and pushed more in my mouth.
Meredith McLean is an Australian writer now living in Japan. She has been published in magazines such as Aniko Press, Sojournal and Denizen’s Digest. You can visit her Linktree.
The story of the week for July 21 to 25 is…
Twin Brother by Jeff Harvey
It was always our thing — searching for familiar shapes in the inky black. Even in Dad’s hospital room, his tired eyes watching and monitors softly beeping, I found Polaris through the telescope. Something to guide me.
Now, in the silence, all I can see is the dark between the stars.
Stephanie Hurley is a writer and English teacher based in Manawatū, New Zealand. She is passionate about all things creative; in particular, using writing to examine the world around her. Her work has been published in Tarot and Mote.
Fila stood by the Packard as a hot wind blew gritty dirt devils around her. She stared at 26 acres of Blackland prairie, a gambler’s final gamble. A gusher, he vowed, Texas gold. Fila saw only dirt, a dry hole gone bust, but it was risky to tell him no.
Susan Hunt lives in Texas, a place that informs her writing as well as her history. Now a retired technical writer and editor, Susan writes flash fiction about Fila, whose history is entangled with her own.
If I am to die, let it be in Paris. Surround me with smoke and noise. Hide me in the flickering light from cheap picture houses. Let lovers on their Haussmann balconies glance away and smile over Beaujolais as I sag into the street, folding on myself like a crêpe.
Dave Bradley’s words have appeared in publications such as Best Of British Science Fiction 2018 and Dorling Kindersley’s The Screen Traveller’s Guide, as well as various pop culture magazines and websites.
Layoff notice. Package of unopened underwear. Empty bottles of Jim Beam. Yearbook opened to page where he and his girlfriend were homecoming royalty. Mom calls out, “Keep one collared shirt.” I hang the green one in the closet. Everything else fits into one garbage bag placed outside Mom’s back door.
Jeff Harvey lives in San Diego and edits Gooseberry Pie Lit. He has recent work in trampset and Bending Genres.
Of a summer’s evening we gather around the campfire, laughing and singing the old songs. Most of all we revel in the tall tales about granddad. And as we speak, each in turn with a riotous story, he comes alive once more, his ruddy face beaming in the dancing flames.
Nick Young is a retired award-winning CBS News Correspondent. In addition to 50-Word Stories, his writing has appeared in dozens of reviews, journals and anthologies. His first novel, “Deadline,” was published in 2023. He can be found on Bluesky at @youngnick.bsky.social. He lives outside Chicago.