Snowflakes by Louisa Campbell
It was Christmas the first time they made love; he said it felt like coming home. He bought her a silver bracelet with a chunky heart charm.
Tag: fiction
The Forgotten Tomorrows by Wylie Strout
I wondered where the wonder went. Another bottle of wine, another moment gone, carelessly misplaced along with the forgotten tomorrows. I picked at the bandage above my eye.
I thought of the millions of self-help books I had read.
“Allow yourself to go to a different place, a better place, in times of difficulties.”
“Embrace your inner child.”
“Breathe.”
“Be kind to yourself.”
“Stay positive.”
Her by Nyx Bean
A flashing light signalled that the surgeons had finished their initial examination and it was time to go over their notes. Despite knowing it was useless, I pushed my mind forward and past the wall separating me from the laboratory. First there was merely the reverberation of the ship’s metal, its atomic structure refusing my meddling. I continued to nudge and prod until finally my consciousness slipped through. The professionals clustered around with their assistants, presumably debating their notes while the test subject was showered and clothed. I could only guess. As much as I struggled I still found it impossible to drag out any substantial information. Where I should have been able to link into the surface conversation like a normal individual, I was instead assaulted by jagged lines and heavy static. It did not take long for the sharp pain of exertion to set in. I gave up. It had been pointless from the beginning.
Week 99 – Balloons, Definitions And Consequence.
Here we have week 99. It’s the logical follow on from Week 98. (That’s not the first time I have said that…Well it is regarding those two specific numbers.)
Continue reading “Week 99 – Balloons, Definitions And Consequence.”
No is a Complete Sentence by Katy Watson
She knew from the moment that the notion entered her mind that it was surely a terrible one. The odds were too high that he would fully transform. It seemed these days that the slightest annoyance and the stiff orange hair the color of an emblazoned sun would streak the ridge of his spine and he was all claws and jagged teeth. He bit a boy on the playground last week. A smaller boy who’d done nothing more than deny Wallace the privilege of destroying his small diligent sandcastle. It was like watching a Godzilla movie if Godzilla were an outraged baboon decapitating beach condos with shoddy foundations instead of a giant lizard. And then they had all spent three hours staring at the sterile screaming walls of the ER while both boys were tested for rabies.
Where the Air Tastes Like Copper by Lee Conrad
Roscoe Griffin, sheltered by the corner of the three story windowless building, waited for the procession of cars to begin drifting into the parking lot. Morning was just breaking and the autumn sun converted the chemical fumes coming from the stacks on top of the building into a mosaic of colors. Colorful though the fumes were, they held a deadly future. The smell, as the fumes drifted down, made Roscoe’s already nauseated stomach even worse.
Continue reading “Where the Air Tastes Like Copper by Lee Conrad”
Mr. Lucky by Frederick K Foote
I’m one lucky son-of-a-gun. I’m not boasting or complaining. I didn’t create my good luck. It was something that just dropped on me. I’m not talking about that fool’s gold good luck of winning the lottery or a bet on the Kentucky Derby. I’m talking about the real meal deal like when you bend down to pick up a dime, and there’s a hail of bullets hitting the wall where your head was seconds ago. My kind of good fortune steers me out of harm’s way, and when I do enter the danger zone, I leave pretty much intact.
You Won’t Believe It by Rohit Arora
I was driving at 85. The night was darker than it should have been. There was nothing on the road, not in the windshield, not in the mirrors. I was so sure that we were not coming back. That we would go into the dark and then never appear at the other side of the road. She lay on the back seat staring at me like a voodoo doll. Oh, and she was dead. Did I tell you she was dead? She was. The wind whistled past me through the window like running away from something. The trees beside the road ran back. I looked at her once and she blinked. I turned back and focused on the road.
Fertility by Jeffrey Penn May
Justin and the campesino, Santos, spent the morning hiking deep into a ravine, carefully picking their way down narrow goat paths and occasionally chopping through vines and thickets. Now they were at the bottom of the ravine and sitting on a boulder that sloped into a stream snaking around gray rocks and lush vegetation. Santos was tired, a man who had lived well past fifty, pushing sixty maybe; it was difficult to tell. He had been evasive about his age, gesturing with his callused hand and saying, “Viejo. Old.” The younger man Justin had stated boldly without shame that he was twenty-seven.
Week 98 – Sawdust, Alterations And What’s Missing?
We have every now and then done things a wee bit differently. This is one of those times.
So with that in mind, I hand you over to Diane who will explain more about the story and why we are publishing it.
On occasion we receive submissions that miss the guidelines by miles but for whatever reason they catch our attention and demand an outing. We thought that this story Sawdust was in that category so here is a little extra treat for our readers.
Diane
Continue reading “Week 98 – Sawdust, Alterations And What’s Missing?”
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