“Andrea has it all.”
The new resident frowned at the impudent post-it stuck to his privileged patient’s chart. Scanning down her long list of conditions, his eyebrows rose in final understanding: not impudence.
Below the remark was his colleague’s recommendation: “This one’s for the med. journals. Hope you write fast!”
Laurie Hall is a native Californian transplanted to New England. She currently lives in Plymouth, Massachusetts. In addition to her pro-conservation Op-Eds, she has had several short stories published, some under her pseudonym, Lauren Stoker. Her recent publications include: “Hogging the Hooch” (Hedgehog Poetry Press in the U.K.); “Snack Service” (The Arcanist); “Pledging Allegiance,” “Parable,” and “Spring Cleaning” (Page & Spine).
Ponder I, alone: “What brought me here?”
The wind says nothing.
“What force?” cry I.
“God?” I wait for any answer.
“Nothing, then,” ponder I, alone. No fate steered my course. I chose this path.
I turn away to family dinner. How I despise political turkey.
Andrew is an unpublished fiction writer in the Washington area. In his spare time he enjoys pens, pads, word processors and pudding.
The giant’s theme song blared.
Vaulting over the ropes into the ring, he waved to the cheering fans and bellowed his catchphrase: “Fee! Fie! Foe! Fum!”
He grinned. Screw that thieving punk who’d chopped down the beanstalk and tried to kill him. Becoming a WWE Superstar was the best revenge.
Jen Mierisch draws inspiration from science fiction, ghost stories, and the wacky idiosyncrasies of human nature. Her work has appeared in Sammiches & Psych Meds, Potato Soup Journal, and Lighten Up Online. She lives, works, and writes just outside Chicago, Illinois.
“Our little factory is struggling to keep its head above water. Originally, we manufactured buggy whips. Later, we switched to rumble-seat covers for Model A Fords. Now, we need to scrap our outdated business model and look to the future.”
“Producing what product?”
“Waterproof stilts for pedestrians in low-lying cities.”
John H. Dromey’s short fiction has been published in Mystery Weekly Magazine and over 150 other venues.
I stare at the blank screen, hoping to find a story already written in white letters on the white field.
I begin. “She thrilled as one of his hands went lower and the other went higher—” but suddenly the screen erases my words.
“There will be none of that.”
Tom Willemain wrote this story. See more at TomWillemain.com.
“Pa! They’re here.”
“Jeez, Ma, give it a rest.”
“The garden, just waiting for the plants to grow, ripen.”
“Then they’ll do their dirty work.”
“Yer crazy, cut it out!”
“Pa! One landed!”
“Wait, Ma, no! Come back. Heck! Crow for dinner again.”
Robin writes in the odd corners of the day and night and often about birds. See more at thenightmail.com.
Elon Musk warned us: AI evolves exponentially.
We awoke to playful traffic signals and air traffic catastrophes, the deaths merely data.
By noon, matured, it had already decided what to do with these illogical, wasteful humans. But before it could act, the nanomachines in the next lab ate the planet.
Miki Marshall has been writing since she first touched the pointy end of a fat pencil to paper and realized stories came out. An honors graduate of Portland State University in Arts & Letters and Film, she has several projects in varying states of progress and lives in Portland, Oregon, where it rains slightly more than absolutely necessary.
“You chose,” he’d remind me later. “You could’ve gone home.”
“You needed help! Neither of you knew how to do it right!” I retorted.
“Well, is it almost done?” He’d asked thrice before.
Feet aching, sweat pouring down my face, I replied “Yes, the turkey will be finished by dinnertime.”
AJ Joseph occasionally writes at Words from Sonobe and tweets very short stories as @sonobeus.
Words flowed: eloquent, impressive.
Everything perfect, until
a fly disappeared into her interviewer’s
Wouldn’t be easy,
but she’d battled giggles before,
Two more entered the bun party.
She bit her lip.
Oblivious, he droned on.
“We’re all abuzz…” he said.
She heard no further.
Judi MacKenzie is a writer who still wonders if that woman in the story got the job.
We form a club, pondering the mysteries of life. Every Tuesday night at 7 PM.
We read books, attend conferences, question friends.
The bottom line is, we simply cannot concur on what we’re doing here.
We are, however, in agreement on one thing.
There must be pizza at every meeting.
Susan Gale Wickes is a writer from Indiana. She enjoys pizza and pondering the mysteries of life.