Sugar is the enemy. Fat is poison. Mantras like these run on a loop inside my foggy mind.
Staring down the overflowing plate, my heart thunders against my ribcage at the thought of eating blacklisted snacks.
Grimacing, I take a bite of the Hershey bar. Recovery is a slow process.
Lauren is an undergraduate student studying Creative Writing at Emerson College.
“Honey, shouldn’t you clear the driveway?”
“Not today. Doc recommended no more shoveling the white stuff for a while.”
“He was referring to forks and spoons and your carbohydrates intake! Potatoes, pasta, refined sugar…”
“Maybe so, but I’m taking no chances… There’s a shovel just your size in the attic.”
John H. Dromey’s short fiction has appeared in publications ranging from Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine to Z-composition (June 2012 issue, online).
It’s been a long time and I’ve missed you, my old friend.
The thought of you, your smell. The way you taste.
You’re always on my mind.
I know it’s been good to be away from you, but I want you back in my life.
Hello carbs, my old friend.
Susan is a Technical Writer by day and fiction writer at night. She adores her five grandkids.
Marcia stepped on the scales one last time. After two long weeks, the chances of this diet actually working appeared to be slim. She normally wasn’t one for resignation, but reality had begun to set in.
She should have known the “cupcakes only” diet was too good to be true.
Last year, his annual business trip left him exhausted.
“You’re overweight,” said his wife, and the little ones nodded.
“No pain, no gain,” he resolved.
This Christmas Eve, after a strict twelve month diet, a slimmer, faster Santa will whiz round the world to deliver his gifts in record time.
John B Sinclair is a much-travelled Scot who has now returned to Scotland, where he enjoys freelance writing on a variety of subjects.
The needle never moved as she stepped on the bathroom scale. She’d done it. She’d finally lost all the weight. Every bit of it. Unfortunately, she couldn’t admire the effects of her weight loss in the mirror, or snap a cellphone selfie to post.
Being a ghost had its drawbacks.
Elizabeth Archer drinks too much coffee and writes flash fiction. She is working on a novel.