A Tale of Hope by Veleka Georgieva
A Tale of Hope by Veleka Georgieva a short story that begins: Some years ago a baby was born. It was a girl and they named it Hope. Hope had two parents…
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Author: Every Writer
Richard Edwards has a BFA in Creative Writing and Journalism from Bowling Green State University and an M.S. in Education from the University of Akron. Managing editor of Drunk Duck, poetry editor for Prairie Margins, reporter for Miscellany, Akron Journal, Lorain Journal, and The BG News. He has also worked as a professional writer and editor in the medical publishing industry for several years. For the last 15 years Richard has also taught literature and writing at the secondary and post-secondary levels. He works much of the time with at-risk students.
All Behind Him by Giorgio Montanari
?I?m glad it?s spring at last,? he thought walking through the sacristy door and towards the altar. ?People drop like flies during the cold months.?
Continue readingSeals by Sid Gustafson
This isn?t a bad story, just a short story about what happened in Oregon. My folks had divorced the year before and Dad flew the coop to Astoria to work on a fishing boat. I rode with my sister on the bus out to spend the summer with him, a twenty-hour trip from Big Timber, Montana. Well, we were on the same bus anyway. She was one of those geeks who wanted to sit in the front and all, and did.
Continue readingStripped Clean by Cassandra Dunn
The bed is the biggest problem. It smells like him. Even after stripping it to wash the sheets, as I lay down on the bare mattress waiting for the dryer to finish working its magic, cleansing me of him, I can smell him. It?s a slightly sweet, powdery smell, laced with a hint of something masculine
Continue readingPremonition by Lorna Brown
I was aware of the spluttering of the air conditioner, the heat from his body draped over the sheet, the hall light caressing his pale skin sneakily like the elderly neighbour he once told me about, the empty bed next door and my body lying prone as if caught in that moment I heard his foot on the stairs.
Continue readingThe Shoebox by: William Gaughan
The heaviness of the shoebox reminded me that it no longer housed its original contents; the fine sheet of dust, evidence of its solitude.
Continue readingGleanings by Naette L. Avery
Like the end of an autumn harvest when the ripened crops have been gathered and the gleanings are scattered along the corners of the fields for the poor, the shrouded dead lay cold before the creeping shade of the old cemetery gate. Its crumbling stone walls await the new arrivals as the tolling of the bells and the low agonizing wails of hungry dogs forewarn the survivors.
Continue readingThe Sack by P. Thompson
“Gimme all your Halloween candy, twerp,” the teenager growled as he stepped out of the shrubbery by the cemetery, blocking the path of a boy dressed in a ghost costume.
Continue readingHalloween Dinner by Erin Landers
A skeleton and Chucky the killer doll paused on their trek, pillow cases weighed down with candy, sweat dripping down their bodies despite the brittle chill hovering in the air. They were on their last house.
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The Loser by Arthur Mackeown
I’m not as forgetful as I seem, you know. I never lose things by accident, not really, just accidentally on purpose. I ‘lose’ them on buses, in shops, on park benches, even
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