The star was somewhere under the tinsel and the web of fairy lights.
“I’d buy a new one instead of this junk,” Max said, but Laura rummaged harder.
A flash of red plastic appeared in the corner, and she heard the voice of her mum:
“You are my little star.”
Nelly Shulman’s prose was published in numerous literary magazines and anthologies and she has authored three collections of short stories. She is a member of The Society of Authors (UK).
“When your grandfather and I were kids, we walked barefoot to school, uphill in the snow both ways. The school had one room for everyone, from kindergarteners to Talmudic scholars. But what a delight the snow became when we discovered the downhill routes! This was before the war, of course.”
Seth Rosenman writes, but he doesn’t wrong. His writing has appeared in numerous places, and so has he. He can be found sleeping in your hat when Tom Waits isn’t. His dreams are manifested forever at infiniteseth.blogspot.com.
It was an autumn afternoon in the park. A gust of chill wind and she turned my way, snugging the collar of her jacket, brushing an errant auburn lock from her forehead, smiling. It was only a fleeting moment; and yet, forty years on, it lingers as vividly as yesterday.
Nick Young is a retired award-winning CBS News Correspondent. In addition to 50-Word Stories, his writing has appeared in dozens of reviews, journals and anthologies. His first novel, “Deadline,” was published in 2023. He can be found on Bluesky at @youngnick.bsky.social. He lives outside Chicago.
Our favorite fall teas, elegant tin. I excitedly open this year’s edition, nostalgia steeping strongly.
Spiced orange warms when we’re chilly, sleepy herbal for cozy nights in. Mystery blend which always intrigues us, berry green with hearty meals.
Robust Irish black, his daily favorite. Even on his very last day.
Sara Kate Egan is a travel writer by trade, turned fiction crafter plus secret poet on the side, most often inspired by Mother Nature’s grand magic. She finds that observing how these four elements relate and intertwine is a fun fascination all in itself.
I saved the last apricot from summer, wrapped in a napkin like a secret. In winter, I found it shriveled but whole. I bit into memory: tart, soft, sun-warmed. My daughter watched, puzzled. “It’s just fruit,” she said. But I could taste my childhood, my mother’s hands, the orchard’s hush.
Aisha is a poet and storyteller based in Srinagar, India. Her work explores themes of memory, displacement, and emotional resilience, often through lyrical prose and quiet imagery.
I always loved school. I loved the neatness of it—desks of all the same size, classroom decorations that mirrored the seasons. I loved my teachers, how sure they seemed in their patterned skirts. Now, every September, I feel like I’m forgetting something. I wonder if I learned anything at all.
Maddy Yardumian is a fiction writer and poet living in Boston, currently at work on their first novel. When she’s not writing (or procrastinating writing), you’ll likely find her frequenting the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, drinking matcha, or listening to Chappell Roan.
Endless days of PB&Js on Wonder Bread washed down with sips from the hose. Sticky toes from where the popsicle dripped onto flipflops. And me, flipflopping through the neighborhood on Blue Thunder, a hand-me-down bike I imagined as a black stallion.
serenity—
my thoughts return
to the old days
Jenny Mattern is a poet, a crafter of stories, and a cake-for-breakfast enthusiast who lives with her family in Montana.
Hole in the left upper, insoles shot, cushioning gone. When I wear them, I find sand between my toes—I haven’t been to Wildwood for fifteen years.
Holding hands, we’d strolled the boardwalk, ferris-wheeled, carrouselled, roller-coastered, oceaned, and beached.
I dangle the sneakers by their laces. They’ve seen better days.
Miriam N. Kotzin writes fiction and poetry. She is the author of five collections of poetry, two collections of short fiction, and two novels—most recently the novel Right This Way (Spuyten Duyvil). Her 50-word stories have been published in 50-Word Stories, 50 Give or Take, and Blink Ink. She teaches literature and creative writing at Drexel University
Wexford summers. Cousins. Some removed, others should be.
A bruising stick-and-ball game settles scores.
Red Lemonade, 99s, ice-cream wafers, crisps and slap-up feeds.
Ravenous teams jostle, devouring gritty ham or salmon paste sandwiches. Each liberally seasoned with sharp, salty silica.
At day’s end, sunburnt cousins dream, war-painted with Calamine lotion.
Steven is still picking sand granules from between his teeth years after the long hot summers of childhood holidays spent visiting family in Ireland.
The day of the move, I watch you crouch by a box.
Maybe nostalgia is a play of light. Maybe it’s denial. Either way, it’s embedded in your every move, the way you handle old letters—eyes soft, unfolding each one like a secret and saying, “Oh, I remember this.”
A Turkish writer, Sarp Sozdinler has been published in Electric Literature, Kenyon Review, Masters Review, Vestal Review, Fractured Lit, and 100 Word Story, among other journals. His stories have been selected or nominated for such anthologies as the Pushcart Prize, Best Small Fictions, and Wigleaf Top 50. See more at sarpsozdinler.com.