He drew on his cigarette and wondered how incessant electronic noise could coexist with silence. Loneliness consumed his soul. A room filled with only his body and too much smoke. Perpetual late mornings and nights, made of blue light and introspection too heavy to bear. Undoubtedly, his days were numbered.
Laurie-Anne has been writing for as long as she can remember and is only now ready to share her stories and ideas with the world… or at least part of the internet. A Cinema and Communications graduate, she has also studied Creative Writing. When she isn’t pursuing artistic endeavours, Laurie-Anne works as a Marketing professional.
There is no wind, yet the curtains move by the window.
Shadows shift languidly on the moonlit wall.
The night is warm, yet I am suddenly chilled.
I am alone, my first night in my new home, yet there are footsteps on the stair.
The bedroom door is creaking open.
John Young is an old chap, grappling with themes of limits, longings, and finitude. He likes spooky stuff.
Columns of raindrops
trailing from the parapet
Like faces in the crowd.
the busy sidewalk
For that one face
Who meant the world
I’ve lost forever
Chronicler of pain
Melted to the soil.
Faces stare back
Mandira Pattnaik writes in India. Her work has appeared in The Times of India, Editor’s Pick Juggernaut Publishing, Microfiction Monday, Paragraph Planet, FewerThan500 and (Mac) ro (mic).
—tornado, Jefferson City, MO, May 22, 2019
Trails of debris, rooftops blown into sand, a photograph of a two-week-old baby.
She said, I just wanted someone from my family to call, to see if we’re OK—
and the tornado’s breath came from her, stuttering sobs as loud as the storm.
Michael H. Brownstein wrote this story.
I chat to callers about holiday homes, kitchen renovations, solar panels.
Later, I call twenty-four-hour hotlines, but can’t find options I need:
1 for housebound,
2 for lonely,
3 for desperate.
Tomorrow, I’ll break the fridge. Mechanic will be here in an hour, answer in grunts. Highlight of my week.
Jo Withers writes micros, shorts and poetry from her home in South Australia. Recent work can be found in Molotov Cocktail, Spelk and 24 Unread Messages.
He had experienced moments of pure joy mixed with frustration, and he’d sung all the songs of satisfaction. He had discovered that discipline was love in its purest form. He had witnessed breathtaking sunsets and star-filled heavens on a clear night. But he would never learn to whistle a Symphony.
Jim Freeze is seventy-three years old, retired, and widowed. He was happily married for fifty-four years and has two grown sons. He began writing in early 2012 to have something to do. His short stories have been featured in many publications including Brilliant Flash Fiction, Calliope Magazine, The Original Writer, and Literally Stories.
The sunrise woke me without a sound.
I rolled off of the stiff hotel mattress and tried to get ready for the meeting, but the silence was too loud.
My son called. “Dad?”
“Is everything okay?”
“I just wanted to say good morning.”
“Oh, good morning.”
And then it was.
Seth Pilevsky lives in New York with his wife and five kids. He loves to wake up to a noisy house. His work has been published in the Long Island Literary Journal, Literally Stories, Memoir Magazine, Stinkwave’s Magazine and in the YA Anthology entitled, What Doesn’t Kill You. Sign up for updates at his website, spilevsky.com.
“Hey Google, close the blinds.”
“Hey Google, dim the lights.”
“Hey Google, start my favourite slow classics playlist.”
“Hey Google, send out all the last messages to friends and family from my draft box.”
“Hey Google, administer the anaesthetic and switch off the power to my ventilator.”
“Hey Google, Goodbye.”
Jo Withers worries that technology is getting out of hand and avoids it wherever possible. She is author of the middle-grade science-fiction novel “5 Simple Steps to Saving Planet Earth.”
You take the room in back, just sink, bed, and chair. The haggard woman unlocking the door disappears quietly back into dust.
Alone, with nothing but a ray of moonlight to talk to, you tell it your life story, then wait for tomorrow’s visit, plead with it to never leave.
Jim Doss has published two books of poems: Learning to Talk Again and What Remains. He also published a book of German translations entitled The Last Gold of Expired Stars: The Complete Poems of Georg Trakl 1908 – 1914. In his spare time, he is an editor for the Loch Raven Review.
Gladus glanced out the window and grumbled, “Those darn kids are stealing my pears and cutting across my property again. They’ve got no respect for others. Their parents should be ashamed. Things were different in my day.”
She sighed. “There must be a rule against visiting lonely old ladies now.”
Eddie D. Moore travels extensively for work, and he spends much of that time listening to audio books. The rest of the time is spent dreaming of stories to write and he spends the weekends writing them. His stories have been published by Jouth Webzine, Kzine, Alien Dimensions, Theme of Absence, Devolution Z, and Fantasia Divinity Magazine. Find more on his blog.