Tag Archives: family

MELANIE MAGGARD: The Summer Before

Artistic, Submissions, Touching, , , , ,

Two sisters, best friends, ran to the pool’s edge.

Nostrils filled with chlorine, sunscreen, peanut butter. Mother called, but twenty minutes was forever when shimmery waves signaled.

Everything—the cherry Koolaid mustaches, the sticky fingers—would be wiped clean.

They bent knees, inhaled sharply, pinched noses, then jumped, holding hands.

Melanie Maggard is a flash fiction and short story writer living in Seattle. She works as a psychology professor for an online university but hopes to grow up to be an author some day.

ANNA SANDERSON: 2065

Artistic, Submissions, , , , ,

Grandpa’s favourite story’s about the pandemic, when everyone stayed inside to stay safe. People sang for strangers and painted with their kids. Those who were able ran errands, called old friends, learnt neighbours’ names. Terrifying times, but amazing, Grandpa says.

He’s obviously exaggerating. Surely people did these things before that?

Anna Sanderson writes about the world as she sees it (with the odd twist and turn). You can follow her story on Twitter at @annasanderson86.

CONNOR WILLIAMS: Childhood

Artistic, Poetry, Submissions, Touching, , , , , ,

A warm summer’s evening:
A light breeze.
Green trees,
with an orange sunset.
And where:

The birds chirped.
The cat purred.
The dog barked.
The parents yelled—

and the baby cried:
Being cradled gently and carried away
by an elderly woman,
with a somber face and badge on her hip.

Pratt Institute attendee, Connor Williams started learning to write about what mattered after fleeing Brooklyn in the wake of Covid-19.

JENNIFER L FREED: Beautiful Things

Artistic, Submissions, Top Stories, Touching, , , ,

My grandmother’s china—
the set I used to save
for holidays: fine
rims of gold, delicate
patterns of green—I use it

every day,
don’t worry about chips, don’t
delay its offerings.
These days I need
porcelain teacups, warm
against my palms. My brother

has died.

Use
the fine china.

Jennifer L Freed mostly writes poems, which have appeared in various journals and anthologies. See more on her website, jfreed.weebly.com.

CASEY LAINE: Survived by a Daughter

Artistic, Poetry, Submissions, Top Stories, Touching, , , , , ,

I have always
gone my own way.

Even so,
I’ve often been told,
“You are so much
like your mother.”

What would I
have learned
about myself
if she had lived?

Would I be
more me,
more her,
more whole?

My deepest loss
is that I’ll never
know for certain.

Casey Laine looks and sounds so much like her mother that a stranger once approached her at a restaurant and asked if she were Lesa’s daughter. She is both Lesa’s daughter, and perhaps, in a way, part of Lesa’s legacy, having inherited not only her looks, mannerisms, and inflection, but also her interest in books, houseplants, and philosophical reflection. This poem is dedicated to her memory, with utmost love.

YASH SEYEDBAGHERI: The Nose Knows

Artistic, Submissions, , , ,

I have Dad’s nose, long and hawkish.
I also lose my temper over small noises, criticize people’s musical choices.

I feel shame and power.
I also try not to use the word “I,” Dad’s favorite.

Surely a nose isn’t a harbinger. I also have Mother’s eyes.

I block all mirrors.

Yash Seyedbagheri is a graduate of Colorado State University’s MFA program in fiction. Yash’s work is forthcoming or has been published in WestWard Quarterly, Café Lit, 50 Word Stories, (mac)ro (mic), and Ariel Chart.

JULIA JORGENSEN: Peel

Submissions, Touching, , , , , ,

Grandpa picks her up from ballet, lets her sit in the front seat. He has brought three tangerines wrapped in a paper towel (two for her). They eat them in the car. Later, she will forget to remove the peels from the cupholder; even now, his car smells like tangerines.

Julia Jorgensen is a junior at Stanford University studying Symbolic Systems and Creative Writing. She loves short stories, theater, and tangerines; she has definitely eaten at least eight in one sitting before.

KIMBERLY PARISH DAVIS: The Contract Fulfilled

Artistic, Submissions, Touching, , , , ,

Puddles and poo everywhere.

Mom had no business getting a puppy. Now she’s gone, and the vet says her tiny guardian’s kidneys are packing up.

Princess is only three years old. Did she have some heavenly contract to fulfill? Is she released from responsibility, to fade back into the ether?

Kimberly Parish Davis directs Madville Publishing, and across genres. Her work can be found in various literary journals, both online and off, including The Helix, Flare: The Flagler Review, époque press, Jerry Jazz Musician, and Flar. See more at kpdavis.com.

TRICIA LOWTHER: Mrs Kaminski’s Cushion

Artistic, Submissions, , , , ,

Mrs Kaminski hugs the purple, sequinned cushion she’s just had to buy back from the charity shop. Her interfering bus driver daughter had donated it.

She spots the 52 on its way down North Road.

In the middle of the zebra crossing she lies down, cushion positioned under her head.

Tricia is a high priestess of micro-fiction.

YASH SEYEDBAGHERI: Dinner Dreaming

Submissions, Touching, , ,

Nick feels shame buying TV dinners. Stroganoff. Salisbury steak.

Others buy steaks, corn. Things that connote family. Families who move about, laughing, sharing secrets, brushing past Nick.

He picks up a steak, marvels at its robustness. Drops in the cart.

Nick imagines a wife smiling across a table.

He smiles.

Yash Seyedbagheri is a graduate of Colorado State University’s MFA program in fiction. His work has been published or is forthcoming in Literally Stories, 101 Words, (mac)ro (mic), and Ariel Chart.