“My remarks will be brief today,” an absentminded professor told his class. “I’m suffering from short-turn memory loss.”
“Don’t you mean short-term?” a student asked.
The prof shook his head. “I had the top down on my convertible. When I turned a corner really fast, my lecture notes blew away.”
John H. Dromey has had short fiction published in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, Betty Fedora, Crimson Streets, and elsewhere.
Nothing small happens in her life. It has always been so, since as long as she can remember.
She checks her makeup, wondering: too much, too little? Lipstick, she decides, and chooses a scarlet shade, Estée Nectarine. Hair? Perfect. Outfit? A tailored black dress, neat, purposeful.
Here’s the bus.
Dermott Hayes is a writer. He has published three books; a biography of Sinead O’Connor, So Different, a crime novel, Tito’s Dead and Postcard from a Pigeon, a collection of short stories. He’s working on a new short story collection, another crime novel and a science fiction story.
Hey, Famine? Death here. Got your diary? What about the 17th?
No, it’s weight watchers on Tuesdays. Next Friday?
Darn! Forgot Plague is off sick until next month.
What about War?
Her diary’s always full. She’s usually out somewhere, dressed to kill.
Lord, looks like we’ll have to postpone. Again.
Viv Burgess got this idea from the usual 80-email marathons trying to arrange a date to meet with three other women friends.
She stared, blank; he gazed lovingly back. Perhaps it was true her skin hung a little loosely upon her bones. Perhaps it was true her hair was just a little sparse.
Yet his mother’s disapproval meant little. He loved her just the same.
After all, aren’t zombies just people, too?
Jenora Vaswani holds an avid fascination for the undead, and avoids horror movies like the plague, a rather unfortunate combination, really. Considering the gradual shifts in perception regarding the LGBTQ+ community, she thought it might be interesting to ponder the extremes of finding acceptance… within zombie/human relationships. Read more of her work at openingdoorsofperception.com.
“Any progress on the kidnapping case?” the captain asked.
“No, sir. We can’t proceed until we have a consultation with Detective Eunice Murphy.”
“Why do you need her help? She’s been retired for years.”
“The ransom note is written in cursive, and nobody on the task force can read it.”
John H. Dromey has had short fiction published in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, Betty Fedora, Crimson Streets, and elsewhere.
Having appropriated a sturdy broom from a dockside warehouse, the constable now clung to the edge of the jetty, desperately jabbing downwards. Damned if he was going to let paperwork ruin his evening.
One final thrust and the swift current began tumbling the corpse downriver, the neighbouring precinct’s problem now…
O.L. Humphreys knows little or nothing of police work but considers himself above par in the practical application of brooms. He has previously been published in Terror Tree Pun Book of Horror Stories, Dark Lane Anthology Volume One, and, of course, 50-Word Stories. You can keep up to date with his work on Facebook.
He saw her across the gate, three rows over, reading a paperback with eyes wide, ponytail in place, and imagined her next to him, picking at the leftovers of a fight from last week, always hauling up their baggage just before they travel.
Ponytails always look better from a distance.
Robert Hoekman Jr is a writer and the cohost of Spillers, downtown Phoenix’s premier short fiction storytelling event. Learn more about him at rhjr.net.
She arrived at the airport. Two hours later, she would be flying.
Gate 25. Panic.
Inside the plane. Cold sweat.
Small bag in the overhead compartment. Fast heartbeat.
A woman approached her. “Sarah, the Captain needs us. We are taking off in ten minutes.”
She breathed deeply and started working.
Ana lives in Madrid, where she works as a secretary. She has a pile of dreams. The last one: writing a short story. There she is. AGAIN.
Samantha lay naked on the hearth, luxuriating before the open fire.
Pulling the chain tightly between clenched fists, and with sinister grin, the man nudged the door open.
Blissfully unaware, Sam rolled gently over.
The man moved stealthily, deftly dropping the noose about her neck.
“C’mon you lazy mutt. Walkies!”
Gary Power is the author of several short stories published in respected anthologies such as the Black Book of Horror and Spinetinglers and also online. He is a member of the British Fantasy Society and the Clockhouse London Writers and also an Amazon Author.
I tripped over something and fell a long way,
didn’t expect this to happen today. Wrapped
in darkness Like a coat. Felt my belly hit
my throat. Looked for the ground
that should have been found,
but I was misinformed and
quickly became bored
as forever falling
became my
calling.
Christopher Gannon is a writer of short fiction and theatre. He does not make up the stories; they make up him.