Gentle sounds of gulls and rhythmic waves echo in the heavens above, returning hauntingly to my ears, resounding in my heart.
Enchanted, I watch nature’s magnificence paint itself around me, glorious imperfections perfected with every brush-stroke.
Awakening, I see I too am a brush-stroke in life’s portrait.
My soul relaxes.
Lisa Lysen is having fun exploring her passion for words, hoping an adventure in writing may be somewhere in her future.
Craig is fond of the saying, “Two heads are better than one.” As head of the personnel department, he would emphasize this to employees. Craig would say, “It’s all about teamwork, and two heads are better than one!”
A two-headed alien walked in one day and said, “Heard you’re hiring.”
Denny E. Marshall has had art, poetry, and fiction published, including fiction in Black Petals #73 in October 2015. See more at dennymarshall.com.
In the darkness, as outside breezes twirl up leaves along an old worn path, it unsettles the stillness of the night as rattling gates keep some folk awake.
A solitary figure makes his way home, unperturbed by the eerie emptiness of unkempt streets or the shadows closing in from behind.
Connell believes that once a passage has been written it can’t be unwritten, but only added to.
The story of the week for November 16 to 20 is…
The End by Alison Carroll
Setting aside the cynicism of the story, as Alison pointed out in her bio, the concept and execution of the story are really strong and vivid. Well written!
When Gregor Samsa woke one morning from pleasant dreams, he found himself unchanged, the same Gregor Samsa as the day before. Life seems rather monotonous, he thought as he stood on his feet and stretched, trembling as his body warmed. He wondered what the morning could bring. And the next.
Matthew Gregory is a writer and filmmaker from South Florida. His forthcoming film “Admit One” will be screened as part of the 8th Annual 1:1 Super 8 Cinema Soiree. Other work can be found at geronimatt.tumblr.com.
As the present world came to an end, things did fall apart.
Masses of now-believers were loosed on the streets. Some wept, some prayed, some turned to the Beast… and some held up signs to the heavens pleading, “Take me!”
God yawned, and chose the ones with the biggest signs.
Alison is not as much of a cynic as this story would insinuate, but rather was influenced by a vivid dream, and the famous Yeats poem “The Second Coming.” She is currently busy working on her sign.
Eddie was dead. All completely dead.
The coroner signed the papers.
Only seven people heard the preacher’s words, six hired pall-bearers and a homeless guy looking for a cup of coffee.
The workers buried the box.
Some say Eddie died too soon. Truth is, Eddie never lived, only died.
John Fowler served twenty years in the US Air Force before retiring and starting a second career in the IT field. He is also a Lay Pastor serving a small church near his home in Texas. His hobbies include reading, golfing, and writing.
The first time Joan met him, the young woman’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.
Two years later she became his wife, still uncertain whether he would love her forever.
Four years later, Joan’s eyes softened slightly when the first of five children came along.
Fifty-seven years later, Joan still remains unconvinced.
Linda Mae McMahon started her second career as a freelance writer while continuing working in her husband’s real estate company concentrated in Bakersfield, CA, and Santa Clarita. Today she is constantly busy coordinating paper by day and chasing stories by night.
She had hidden her face, backed against the wall. I walked near her and she quickly withdrew behind her mom, holding onto her fingers.
I was a stranger to her, but she was my daughter.
Her mom nodded assuringly, as hello became the hardest word I ever had to say.
Christal Knight is waiting for that refreshing random breeze that happens on a warm, sunny day.
When he awoke he was under the bed, the blinds were down and the room was in darkness. Was it day or night? There was a distinct iron taste—of blood?—in his mouth. He felt satisfied, giddy.
Running his tongue over his sharp canines, he knew.
It had begun.
Lin Jenkinson is a Canadian woman who has a penchant for iconic horror and flash fiction. She has been known to write poetry and non-horror but only on off days.