“You’ve been locked in this bathroom far too long,” I whispered into the grimy mirror.
I sighed and straightened my black velvet dress. The door creaked open and I could feel their penetrating gazes.
Upon entering my husband’s funeral, I prayed that I could feign the tears one last time.
Isabella Blakeman is a sophomore at Yale University majoring in Latin American Studies.
What I saw was breathtaking: a vast, complex maze of high stone walls enclosing intricate, overlapping passageways containing sharp turns, hidden traps, and secret doors that looped back to the starting point.
And at the center: a large kite, strong enough to carry a man to freedom. No strings attached.
Bob Thurber wrote this for C.
The story of the week for October 20 to 24 is Footsteps by Barry O’Farrell.
Footsteps uses its central metaphor to communicate the character’s mental and emotional state in a really powerful way. Great job putting this story together, Barry.
Yemi dropped to the floor, clutching the white paper in his hand.
The results of the DNA test stung his eyes. His status had changed from an illegitimate child to a common stranger. For 35 years, his mother had lied.
The hefty inheritance from his late “father” no longer existed.
Aubrey is an idealist with a fondness for writing and all things culture. She sporadically has vivid dreams about her unpublished books being on the New York Times best sellers list.
Are all the boxes marked? The van’s here already.
Feed the baby, and don’t pack the pacifier. Where’s the cat?
Now keep hold of the dog’s leash and stand right by the front door to tell the movers what goes where.
No, you are definitely not getting the biggest bedroom.
Catherine Mathews is a State Department retiree, formerly stationed overseas in Paris, Rome, Tel Aviv, Athens, Frankfurt, and Istanbul. She is now living in Northern Virginia and writing about her life.
“Happy twenty-first birthday, Stephanie.”
Linda raised the beer can to the sky and took a sip.
“Sorry we have to share, but Mary would only give me one.”
She bent next to her best friend’s tombstone and poured the rest of it out, leaving the cemetery with a heavy heart.
Melissa J. Crispin was born and raised in Connecticut, where she still resides today. She is currently working on a novel, as well as shorter works when the mood strikes.
Lily is 19, and already well known to police.
Calmly, Detective Carew sits beside her. Gently, he takes one of her now-bare arms, turns it over, and examines the new needle tracks.
“You’ve fallen off the wagon. You’re using again.”
“No… I haven’t.”
“What are these?”
She whispers, “Demons’ footsteps.”
Barry O’Farrell is an actor living in Brisbane, Australia. He is enjoying the challenge of writing in 50 words.
He’s changed while he’s been gone.
The glinting metal piercing. The tattoo curling up his neck. The stench of smoke hanging around him.
But underneath he’s still my little boy.
He stands nervous, not meeting my teary eyes.
I reach out and embrace him.
“I love you, Mom,” he whispers.
Monica loves to make music, read, and write in the time she’s not slogging through piles of homework or caught in a consuming daydream.
I walk past the boutique clothes store. Inside, someone is burning a scented candle: coconut and lime tonight.
From the café next door drifts the warm aroma of high-end coffee and vanilla beans.
I linger in the sweet spot between shops. Should I buy a drink, or just keep inhaling?
Brenda Anderson’s fiction has appeared in various places including defenestration and Fiction Vortex, and will appear in SpeckLit. She loves the offbeat.
She sought out the blue dot, his blue dot, which was sometimes accompanied by the word “mobile.”
She developed a nervous tic, always reaching for her phone.
Perhaps he looked for the reassurance of her blue dot, too. But probably not.
She knew this, and she tried not to care.
Sarah Vernetti is a freelance writer from Las Vegas, Nevada.