Do I look to you as though I’ve recently suffered spontaneous human combustion, you silly man? I say of you, Lawrence, what I have always said: that you are a silly man.
Wait. Perhaps that charred looking fellow in the bandages is the one to whom you should be speaking.
Philip Zunzuncito Sequoia is a writer whose work has graced such fine publications as Freedbook and Patternotion.
Life in the bowl is certainly better than in the bag. I used to float there alone, watching as those hooked ducks wandered by, plucked from the water one by one, vanishing, followed swiftly by each of my friends.
Now I have a bridge and a clam.
Life is good.
David studies creative writing and divides his time between walking his dogs and cooking pizza for his wonderful wife.
The most communicative owl in the owl kingdom is perched outside Michael’s window. She’s on a chatter-on-chatter-off schedule: approximately twenty minutes chatter, ten minutes silence.
During the silences, Michael’s been sleeping and dreaming in vivid bursts. He’s expecting the dialogue of these dreams to soon be reduced to, “Who? Who?”
Nan McLamb lives and writes in a Carolina pine forest wedged between a swamp and the ocean. She is rarely kept awake by owls.
Words terrify me. Their power and immediacy. Will you marry me? Changing everything. Just an articulation of speech. I do. Words transforming worlds. Like a head on collision. It’s a girl. Easier than falling from a great height. I don’t love you anymore.
So I just say nothing these days.
Shark Trager struggles with finishing his works of artistic frivolity so has taken to writing microfiction because not finishing a 50-word story is less reckless.
The story of the week for September 29 to October 3 is Creation by Pavarti K Tyler.
There were a few really strong scene-setting stories this week, and this one stood out to me. I love the eerieness and the implied world-building.
He recognized it immediately by the drip of paint hidden behind the wheel of the 1940 red and yellow workhorse, the long gone first tractor of his boyhood.
Half a century and a handshake later, it was his again. How proud his father would’ve been to see it come home.
Judy McKinnon lives in Toronto, Ontario with her husband and two sons, whose talents and creativity constantly inspire her. She has worked in business journalism for nearly 20 years.
“Santa favors the wealthy,” his father told him.
So when spoiled brats got all twenty things on their wish lists, poor Timothy wasn’t surprised.
Tim knew the superstition: if you are bad, Santa gives you a lump of coal.
He shivered next to the dying fire, wishing for some coal.
Three months until Christmas seems too long for Jason, whose only wish is to have less homework.
Harold Hipps didn’t know the IHOP he decided to rob that Tuesday morning was hosting the annual Catawaba Falls law enforcement breakfast.
He also didn’t initially think much of the two men in suits paying their bill at the register.
That is, until he pulled out his painted pellet gun.
Nathan currently lives in South Carolina and is working on a book.
The Story of the Month is chosen from the Story of the Week winners announced from the past month. The finalists for September were:
Guess Who by Kymberli Roberson
The Talking Fingers of My Great Greek Grandfather by Bob Thurber
Summer Learning, 1975 by Jennifer L Freed
Assertive by Philip Zunzuncito Sequoia
Hector Heard God by Shark Trager
The winner of the September 2014 Story of the Month, and the $10 prize, is…
Summer Learning, 1975
Congratulations, Jennifer!
Wilson is always left behind at the end.
Alone in the theater, he is waist deep in velvet chairs, all patrons discharged into the aortic pumping of a New York City evening.
Solitude.
The last systole of music ascends to the rafters and all conversation absorbs into the carpeted floor.
Molly Hill lives, writes, and runs a lot of trail miles in her home state of Minnesota, even in the winter.