Anne held up the t-shirt. The stain still hadn’t come off. As she hung it, she heard footsteps.
Anne sighed before turning around.
He was wearing the same t-shirt, clean but somewhat creased.
“I’m… sorry,” he muttered.
“Having a time machine doesn’t fix everything,” said Anne. “Try going further back.”
Joey generally doesn’t like stories which feature time travel but he’s not going to go back and undo the few times he has made exceptions.
Being a newsreader is hard. Not only do you have to look great, you must have the most current stories in order to keep ratings up.
This is where I have the jump on my competition. My inventor friend helps me make little trips.
“And now for TOMORROW’S news today!”
Susan Cornford is a retired public servant living in Perth, Western Australia. She has pieces published or forthcoming in 50-Word Stories, Akashic Books, Antipodean Science Fiction, CarpeArte Journal, Ghost Parachute, Medusa’s Laugh, Speculative 66, Subtle Fiction, Switchblade, The Fable Online, The Gambler, The Vignette Review, and The Were-Traveler. She considers herself an emerging flash writer.
Some wild-eyed vagrant bursts into a studio and tells a young artist about the evil he’s done and his years on the run. He hands the artist a pistol.
The artist listens attentively before recognising the vagrant’s eyes as his.
Terror… Then resignation follows as he slowly squeezes the trigger.
One of Connell’s many dilemmas is whether to write a bit or not before going to bed. When he writes, he’s sleepy the next day, and when he doesn’t, the ideas slip away.
I must fix my time machine, but every night she comes dancing in the woods and I’m lost.
I wanted to give my legacy to science, not lose it to history, but maybe I’ll ask her name tonight. Maybe she’ll love me,
Maybe they’ll remember Robin Loxley, after all.
Matthew Wilson, 34, has been published over 150 times in such places as Horror*Zine, Zimbell House Publishing, Star*Line, Alban Lake, and many more. He is currently editing his first novel.
A body on the floor, warm blood drip, drip, dripping onto the carpet.
He has my face. My beautiful young face.
I was going to set things right. That’s what the time machine was for. But he wouldn’t listen and I got angry.
I always was my own worst enemy.
Bill lives in Aberdeen, Scotland where, in between the odd piece of writing, he plots the downfall of humanity on behalf of his Martian overlords.
He was an older version of me. The years have not been kind.
“Don’t go out tonight,” he warned, before vanishing into thin air.
I guess I could invite my date here instead.
He reappeared and slapped me in the face. “The point is to avoid the girl, you idiot.”
Pontius Paiva has been published several times in the past and hopes to be published again in the future. If you have the time, travel over to pontiuspaiva.com to read more.
The centurion realized they were doomed
surrounded by barbarian hordes
Not his choice, being sent to Germania
To die on foreign soil, in this supposed adventure
For the Glory of Rome and Gaius Cornelius Tacitus
He marked the time on his Rolex
The professor was wrong
Time travel… really sucked
Paul Hock wrote this story.
She watched the woman named Stella adjusting her wedding veil in the mirror. Moving beside her, their eyes met in reflection.
“Please don’t marry him or you’ll be unhappy the rest of your life.”
Stella turned to her. “Are you a distant cousin?”
“I’m your granddaughter,” she said and disappeared.
Susan Cornford is a retired public servant, living in Perth, Western Australia. To date, she has (co)won only one competition but has been short-listed or made finalist for numerous others. She has pieces published or forthcoming in Antipodean Science Fiction, Ghost Parachute, Switchblade, The Fable Online, The Gambler and The Vignette Review. She now considers herself an emerging flash writer.
I didn’t believe in time travel until I met myself one rainy Tuesday. Back from a world unknown to me.
Despite the shock, we drank tea and laughed about our mother. For a few moments I was happy with myself.
Until I told me not to look forward to much.
Shark Trager lives in North London and has been writing and blogging 50 Word Stories erratically for five years. He is a novelist in progress as well as a jobbing copywriter and ghostwriter.
The time machine shimmered and was gone. She looked at the space it left and thought of the man she had just spoken to, gone to his fate in a destroyed world.
As he now kicked inside her she knew what might become of him.
She had better get started.
Steven Lee wrote this story.