Plop.
“Eat up!” said Mom.
Victor stared at his plate. Yuck. What was this slimy, moldy, mushy gunk?
“Don’t you like it?”
“Gross!” said Victor. “Is this rotten food?”
“It’s your winnings,” said Mom. “The ones you gloated about after Monopoly. Like you said, to the victor go the spoils!”
I’m happy to announce the birth of my second son, Victor! This story is for him.
A drip from the ceiling splatters onto his forehead.
“His eyes… They open,” is heard in broken English.
A fuzzy recollection of the previous night arises.
A fight with burglars in the hotel room upstairs.
A knife flashed and bodies fell.
Another drip, blood… But whose, and why the handcuffs?
John B Sinclair is a much-travelled Scot who has now returned to Scotland, where he enjoys freelance writing on a variety of subjects.
After school, I would follow the railroad home. I walked the iron bars step by step by deliberate step, pretending it was a tightrope in the sky and touching the gravel was the equivalent of falling to my death.
To be honest, talking to you gives me the same feeling.
Alison Mirabella is a librarian-by-day, writer-by-night and grad- student-for-whatever-time-is-left living on Long Island. She has nothing published yet, but she is really good at making tiny origami stars. That’s something, right? Check out her Tumblr: i-a-m.tumblr.com
After my sister disappeared, Father brought me behind the house to see a wet circle of mushrooms. “A fairy ring,” he said, hoarsely. “They take little girls to dance with.”
There were policemen inside. They bored me.
I asked if I could dance, too, but Father wouldn’t meet my eyes.
Courtney Hamel lives with many cats in Toronto, Ontario.
Karen and I walked through the club admiring the performer’s dress.
“I love the design; it compliments her broader frame,” Karen said.
“The sequins are spectacular!” I added.
“We love your dress!” I called towards the catwalk.
The dancer pivoted and my visage changed.
“Jim!” I gasped at my husband.
Miss Pam is a dance teacher, choreographer, and makeup artist. In her free time she enjoys writing, reading, painting, acting, and participating in artistic projects!
As soon as she said said go, it started. It was hard to stop at first; pauses seldom happened.
Now it is as if it always was like this. Just like this.
It hasn’t stopped since. Then again, she never did say “stop”.
“Fine, stop!” she yelled.
And it did.
Her bio. Not much to say. She doesn’t have a website and uses an alias. My guess is that she (or he) is a ____________. Yeah, she is a giant fill in the blank. Maybe she is friends with RL Wing?
From here it is just another speck of light in the sky, barely discernible from the rest, but as I look upon it I weep.
I tell myself that one day I will make it home, but I know it’s not true.
The Earth winks at me from the heavens.
Chris Griglack was born and raised in Massachusetts where he has lived for 23 years. He graduated from the University of Massachusetts Dartmouth in 2012 with a degree in Writing, Rhetoric, and Communications.
When I was young my father told me I spoke too quickly, but I was afraid he would be gone before I had finished all I had to say.
Now that I’m older, we sit on his front porch. I shout so he can hear:
“Tell me a story, Dad.”
Georgina is an avid writer, reader, and carer for two wonderful little boys. She currently resides in Canada.
“Thank you all for joining us on this first annual Thanksgiving Day,” intoned Tyrone.
“Your hospitality has been wonderful!” said Brenda Brachiosaur.
“A splendid idea,” said Stewart Stegosaur. “Please do invite us back.”
“Actually,” said Tyrone, flashing his Tyrannosaurus teeth, “I expect we’ll be needing new guests next year.”
Chomp.
Happy Canadian Thanksgiving, everyone! (Americans: enjoy yours next month.)
Conrad stared at his sullen reflection in the cracked sideview mirror. He didn’t want to picture the front bumper.
The examiner tapped him. “You passed.”
“What? But, the mailbox — and the tree…”
“You’ve taken five tests this year. I’m six years from retirement. I wanna survive ’til then. You passed.”
Anna Zumbro lives in Washington, D.C. Her writing has been published in Thick Jam and Pound of Flash.