The story of the week for April 29 to May 3 is…
Dot-to-Dot by Joanna Norland
RAN WALKER: The Best Magic Trick
There’s a mirror in the box that makes it look like he’s disappeared. This is his best magic trick. He’s so good at it he sometimes refuses to come out from behind the mirror, having convinced himself that disappearing leaves behind a wonder that can’t be achieved by being present.
Ran Walker is an award-winning author of over 30 books and the creator of the 100 x 100 micro novel. He teaches creative writing and lives in Virginia with his wife and daughter.
JOHN SZAMOSI: Birthday Boy
On his 104th birthday he has to ask his great-granddaughter to blow out the candle on the cake.
He says he has two wishes. One, Seabiscuit win the Kentucky Derby. Two, more for emotional than political reasons, FDR get re-elected.
If ever there was one good way to stay young…
John Szamosi is a wordsmith and peace activist who has published over one hundred short stories, satires and poems.
SUSAN ISREAL: Cataract
In his dreams he can see. He’s darting across the lawn after the sassy Shih Tzu in a pink pinafore. His paws thrash the air; he twitches and whines; he’s just about caught up with her now.
His person wouldn’t dare disturb his reverie now, would she? He can see!
Susan Israel is the author of two crime novels, Over My Live Body and Student Bodies (The Story Plant) Her short fiction has recently been published in Dark Winter Literary Magazine, JAKE and MacQueen’s Quinterly. She lives in Connecticut with her dog.
TIM BOITEAU: Delayed by the Rain
The dark car pulls up to the curb.
Door shut, the unblinking driver ferries you away.
Your first impression: Why so many pine-tree air fresheners?
You wrap yourself in a snow-pale blanket and notice the smell, not of petrichor, nor the dangling pressed-paper forest, but the first notes of rot.
Tim Boiteau writes in Michigan. He is a Writers of the Future winner and the author of several novels and many short stories. See more at timboiteau.wordpress.com.
HELEN KSYPKA: Following the Rule
I want to write words that are polished and pretty
poetic, prophetic and wonderf’ly witty
with verses and stanzas and pages galore,
and when I am finished write ten pages more.
Except there’s a rule that I need to address.
The word count is fifty. No more and no less.
Helen Ksypka lives in Eliot, Maine. She is the author of “A Chef for the Queen,” and her humor has been published by Meadowrook Press, Reader’s Digest, The Saturday Evening Post, Light Poetry Magazine, and elsewhere.
BARB UDODOW: Just Me
She left me unexpectedly. I now have eleven houseplants of various shapes and sizes. She took very good care of them… treating them as if they were her children. She spoke to them, fed them, healed them when they were sick. Now they stare at me. Will I be enough?
Barb is retired and lives at the Jersey shore with her plants.
ROBERTA BEACH JACOBSON: Bookworm
Since cats are able to see in the dark, they don’t need flashlights to read under the covers. I’ve suspected this for a while, but couldn’t prove it. Until now. There she is, Fluffers, engrossed in an adventure novel. Caught in the act! I knew my books weren’t rearranging themselves.
Roberta Beach Jacobson (she/her) is drawn to the magic of words–poetry, song lyrics, flash fiction, puzzles, and stand-up comedy. Her latest book is Demitasse Fiction: One-Minute Reads for Busy People (Alien Buddha Press, 2023). She lives in Indianola, Iowa, USA with her husband and three cats.
JEAN BUIE: In Grade Ten, When I Fell In Love
I scratched your initials inside my locker, to touch you each day between classes. I spoke your name under my breath; formed you with my lips, tasted you on my tongue.
You were diner coffee and cigarettes. A baggy black t-shirt meeting low-slung jeans on sharp hips.
That space in-between.
Jean Buie is a lawyer by trade who loves to write fiction and creative non-fiction. She lives in Toronto, ON with her family and her dog, Grimm.
ABHIJITH PARMESHWAR: Please Don’t Go
“Mr. Dawson, I’m sorry for your loss.” One of the cops speak but I barely see his face. Red and blue lights flicker as a yellow convertible laments in flames circled by dismayed faces. Yet, I keep calling. The sun sets in tears as I wait for her to answer.
Abhijith is a university graduate from southern India who likes writing micro fictions and musings. A steaming cup of latte and sunset walks is all he need to free fall into thoughts, connecting words that express emotions.