The story of the week for May 2 to 6 is…
Cryptic Quest by John H. Dromey
Exploration, mystery, and personal voyages are all compelling themes, well married in John’s story.
KATHY MYERS: The Next Best Thing
We’re the pathetic four of ’64; another dateless Friday night. Linda’s riding shotgun in Sherry’s Corvair with Dee and me crammed behind.
All have nothing better to do than visit some has-been celebrity just to watch T.V.
An older red haired greaser answered the door. Linda gulped, “Is Elvis home?”
Kathy Myers wrote a romance novel and loves the satisfaction of a good hard edit.
JACKIE BISHOP: Doing It Right
She rocks him slowly, gently in her arms, his tears still sparkling on hot, red cheeks, too exhausted to sleep.
Motherhood. When does she get to feel as if she’s doing this right?
He opens his eyes suddenly, sighs, then yawns sleepily.
At this moment, she is doing it perfectly.
Jackie was thrilled to have her first attempt at flash fiction published recently, and is hoping to keep up the momentum with more in the future, as well as working on her fourth novel and a travel journal.
JOHN H. DROMEY: Cryptic Quest
Marian’s self-driving vehicle came home without her. Her smartphone was in the driver’s seat, but it wasn’t talking. The passenger seat was empty. The trunk was filled with farewell presents for her family and friends.
Her final text: I’m going in search of Judge Crater, B. Craven, and Amelia Earhart.
John H. Dromey has had short fiction published in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, Betty Fedora, Crimson Streets, and elsewhere.
JON NIXON: Selected or Elected
The Bear grinned.
He was big, bad, and made the rules in his side of the forest. Nobody dared dissent.
The Eagle dominated the other side, but did so differently, regularly letting other animals decide who they wanted to rule.
The Bear chuckled. This year they were nominating a goose.
From the North West of England, Jon works in local government, with a background in Newspaper Journalism. He is currently enjoying experimenting with short forms of writing, likes to think he can do so creatively, and quite often has to delete everything he has written and start again.
CARRIE: Game-Changer
Sometimes, life can change in an instant.
For Sharon, it began with a series of pain waves, each one more agonising than the last. It rose, peaked, and fell. She grimaced, yelled, and cried. Inhale, exhale, repeat.
After 14 long hours, the life-changing moment finally arrived.
A healthy baby girl.
Carrie is childless and incapable of entertaining kids for more than thirty minutes at a go. However, her secret pleasure is reading children’s storybooks—to herself, alone.
ALEXANDRA KEISTER: 12 Weeks
My love lies with her head on a silken pillow, hair brushed, hands gracefully over one another. Not at all like she used to sleep, one arm over her face, the other across my chest.
Her favorite dress stretches taut across her belly; another love, forever entombed inside the other.
Alexandra Keister is an executive assistant and writer hungry for success, and on most days a good maple bar.
STORY OF THE MONTH: April 2016
The Story of the Month is chosen from the Story of the Week winners announced from the past month.
The finalists for April were:
The Stink of a Lifetime by Bob Thurber
Terror by Viv Burgess
The Shrimp Farmer by Alexandra Keister
First Luncheon in a New City by Lynette Hinnings-Marshall
The winner of the April 2016 Story of the Month, and the $10 prize, is…
The Shrimp Farmer
Alexandra was able to tell so much story in so little space, packing a ton of character development and implied backstory into every sentence. Fantastic, chilling work!
JEAN LLOYD: Footprints
When I am gone, who will take up my space?
When I am gone, who will breathe in my air?
Who will say the words I don’t say and fill the void I’ve left?
I hope I leave my footprints in the sand, to be remembered for a little while.
Jubilant following the publishing of her first story, Jean has wasted no time having another go. Her husband is amazed she can write anything in fifty words when she talks so much!
LEE DeAMALI: Land Line
Call comes when he’s twelve stepping, dancing through a scripted apology delivered with unwavering nerve.
Voice spins me back: to the safe house, emergency room, places and events I’ve done a fine job forgetting.
Dropped receiver bounces on twisted cord, and I’m left frozen, knowing he knows where I am.
Lee DeAmali has a land line she never answers and an outgoing message that gives nothing away.