The story of the week for May 6 to 10 is…
I love you and nothing else by Dominique Gélin
The story of the week for May 6 to 10 is…
I love you and nothing else by Dominique Gélin
The message had been broadcast many rings ago. Beginning in the sapwood, plunging beneath the soil, through the gnarled, twisting ropes of roots, into the branching network of filamentous fungi. The tree whose name means heart and bread is searching. Finally, a reply. “Sorry. You are the last of your kind.”
Anoushka Yeoh is a writer from London and a mother of two. She studied Biomedical Sciences, made an ill-advised segue into the Law and now writes about motherhood, neurodiversity and deafness. She is currently studying for an MA in Creative Writing at Birkbeck, University of London.
You say
I reside
Deep in the sanctum
Of your heart
Like a reigning deity
The object of your utter devotion
I say
Please let me out
Of those confines
And show me
How you care
For I’m not made of stone or silver
I’m just a human, like you
Suma Jayachandar is a teacher from India. A lover of all things words, she took to writing in 2020. Since then she has been dabbling with different forms of writing, ticking the boxes off her bucket list.
The Story of the Month is chosen from the Story of the Week winners announced from the past month.
The finalists for April were:
Flying by Jerry Weller
Truth Be Told by Cari Main
Legacy by Cate Covert
My neighbor is the second coming of Jesus Christ by Nina Evans
The winner of the April 2024 Story of the Month, and the $10 prize, is…
My neighbor is the second coming of Jesus Christ
His big arm presses mine—spreading warmth, shoulder to elbow. His knee bumps, then retreats. Silent, yet connected, I search vainly for that place where mind and body unplug. The hours tick by.
“Can I help get that bag down?” the man asks when we land.
It seemed only right.
A prolific writer, Carol Reeves is loving the freedom and challenge of Flash Fiction. Her stories are found in 50-Word Stories and Flash Fiction Magazine. She often writes of the privilege and vicissitudes of aging. Her memoir, “All the Little Miracles,” was published in 2022.
Julius Caesar surveyed the terrain before him and boldly marched across the Rubicon. The die was cast. There was no turning back. Things would never be the same.
Millennia later, I find myself at a crossroads. I throw the dice and land a pair of snake eyes.
Just my luck.
E. C. Traganas is a published novelist & poet from New York City and a Juilliard-trained concert pianist and composer by profession.
This I know: that having run a long time, my breath a roar in my ears, one single leap will carry me over every high wall. Swimming underwater, I will find a transparent veil. And my words will find a way to you, across time and space.
Adity lives in New Jersey and studied for an MFA in Writing at Vermont College of Fine Arts. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in The Common, The Missouri Review, On the Seawall, Past-Ten, The Maine Review, and elsewhere. Speaking Tiger Books, India, recently published her mystery novel, The Kidnapping of Mark Twain: A Bombay Mystery.
Speaking to seniors, the emcee referred to iconic moments in vintage radio programs. Jack Benny’s vault and Fibber McGee’s closet struck a chord with everyone except one stone-faced woman.
“Was she afraid a smile of recognition would give away her age?” the speaker asked the organizer.
“No. Too much Botox.”
John H. Dromey has micro-fiction, flash fiction, and short stories published in over 200 venues.
Because the previous gods had created one apocalyptic fiasco after another, fraternization among The Entities was now forbidden. But that didn’t stop The Sun and Death from stealing kisses whenever they got the chance. They grew bolder and their love burned brighter, until a scorched Earth was all that remained.
Dominique Gélin is a writer based in Los Angeles, CA. Her book, Heebie Jeebies: 31 Creepy Stories You Can Read in 5 Minutes Or Less, is set to be released October 2024. You can learn more about her work by visiting her website at dominiquegelin.com.
The ice cream was melting.
I raced the sun, licking faster.
“How is it?” he asked, smoking a cigarette.
It dripped on my shirt: evidence.
At home, an interrogation. “Don’t lie,” she said. “I smelled it on him.”
I stared at the ground and shook my head. “I’m not lying.”
Peter Wilson is a freelance writer living in Toronto.