SEAN BURKE: Then

Artistic, Submissions, , , , , ,

Bees hummed in the honeysuckle on the fence. A screen door squeaked open and slapped closed and porch chimes tinkled. Someone laughed in the backyard. Then tires screeched, metal thumped, and glass shattered. Someone screamed. Sirens wailed far away. Someone whispered and bees hummed in the honeysuckle on the fence.

Sean Burke lives with his husband and their grumpy little dog. When not writing, he works a day job to pay for a very small house with a yard to grow raspberries. Sean’s fiction has been published in Prime Number Magazine, Across the Margin, The Evening Street Review, and Brilliant Flash Fiction. His most recent stories can be found at seanpeterburke.com.

LILIAN POMEROY EDMONDS: Memories

Artistic, Submissions, , , ,

The scent of my dead grandmother drifts past me, luring me home. I return willingly to her, following the rosewater scent of my childhood. Like last summer’s relentless rains driven by the early winds of a devastating hurricane, memories long buried flood inside my studio. Too late to forget. Regrets.

A short story and creative nonfiction writer born in Pennsylvania, Lilian resides on the west coast of Florida. After living three decades in California, she trekked back east in 2003 to a state where the sun shines brutally hot most of the year. An inveterate wanderer, former weekly journalist and technical writer, Lilian dreams of moving to points unknown. While she works on a memoir series grounded in her discovery of her grandmother’s poems written during the years 1899 – 1931, she writes flash fiction and 50-word stories.

ED WALKER: The Longest Week

Adventure, Submissions, , ,

The zombie apocalypse finally arrived, and it was not anything resembling what humanity had come to expect. There were no humans crawling their way out of musty graves, hungry for brains. No, there were thousands of insect species erupting from everywhere. Trillions of them. Humanity lasted just over six days.

Ed Walker is a retired engineer currently living in Catalunya, Spain. His work can be found in fiftywordstories, The Arcanist, Blink-Ink and elsewhere.

NATHAN DOYLE: Cicada Summer

Artistic, Submissions, , , ,

They shrilled for seventeen years underground. When they rose that warm June afternoon—dozens, then hundreds—no one listened. So they screamed louder. The town buzzed, trembling like spent paper, then fell still. Forgetting helped. It was better that way. No one noticed the tears crawling down my cheeks, soft as legs.

Nathan Doyle (he/him) is a poet and writer from Boston, MA. He received a Scholastic Silver Key in Poetry and three Honorable Mentions. His work explores silence, survival, and the spaces between perception and memory. His debut poem is forthcoming in Feral Poetry. Find him on Instagram at @geekgumo.

MATTHEW EICHENLAUB: Triggered by Internet Photo

Artistic, Submissions, Top Stories, , ,

I did this once. Dwayne, Nancy
and me boarded a bus in Oakland
5:00 am. Eye-balled pretty good
only others like us were winos.
Sun-baked fields, whole families
working like no tomorrow. A kind
one said, kick in your shiny new
buckets. Fewer tomatoes, your
tickets get punched more often.

Matthew is an old guy who lives in Maine. Drinks coffee. Listens to music. Prefers Pacifico. Writes when inspired. Strawberry Fields Forever.

EILEEN MARDRES: The Unexpected

Amusing, Submissions, Touching, , ,

A baby. A beginning. Exciting! Eager anticipation of the end goal: Adulthood! Every growth step welcomed.

If lucky, the journey continues, rewards received: Grandchildren! Cute and cuddly morphing into talented and fun. Finite time parenting yielding eternity of grandparent ecstasy.

Then, horrific awareness. No one prepared us. Grandchildren grow up!

Eileen was dazed when the truth was revealed. Boyfriends, girlfriends, drivers’ licenses, graduations, jobs, even marriages. Suddenly, outings and stories and sleep overs had become history, and the toys have become dust collectors.

DG BRACEY: Guilty Stew Drips from Innocent Mouths

Artistic, Submissions, , ,

Down two devils dropped, under sleeping streets, conjuring the hopeless and unhoused. Their songs echo like flutes bouncing off breathing trees. Two by two the hopeless drop down through quick mud to tunnels, endless in circling knots, all leading to one lost doorstep, four opened arms, fire lashing out welcomes.

DG Bracey is a teacher and a freelance writer from the Carolina coast. He’s picked up degrees from the University of South Carolina, Coastal Carolina University, and the University of North Carolina – Wilmington. He’s published short stories in various journals and been a feature writer for newspapers.

CHRIS BOWERS: Strawberry Moon

Adventure, Submissions, , ,

Love came fast. For me. For her, love was simply bait, a lure, a grift. And I, her mark.

Married in March, the Strawberry Moon revealed all, her veil removed. Now, silence, darkness, and locked doors are our love language.

I wonder what she misses more: fresh air or sunlight.

Chris Bowers lives on Earth, which is almost enough. He explores the spectrum of human emotion through fiction inspired by fleeting moments and small-town life, crafting stories that reveal the beauty, absurdity, and ache of being thoroughly, stubbornly alive.