New York City Runaway

Crystal hid from the crowds of people by darting from shadow to shadow. Luckily, everyone was too busy to notice. The tall, hairy strangers in suits and uniforms were frightening, yet nothing scared her more than the thought of returning home.

She secretly flitted about the streets of the city, searching for a doorway to slip through. But not jut any doorway. Crystal had a long list of requirements that needed to be fulfilled before she picked a location. She hadn't run away in order to settle just anywhere.

After all, once a fairy enters someone's home, it never leaves.

Crisis Averted, Please Carry On

The service officers of the Shuminelectra Corporation were taught an abundance of protocols designed to prevent a crisis. They practiced the politest forms of speech, ran through dozens of foreseeable threats to public order, and were authorized to neutralize all potential disruptions. Shuminelectra Corp. provided the most efficient quality control platform in the entire new territories.

So it was that long after the planet had been abandoned, a group of officers were still operating at full efficiency. They truly were a marvel of engineering. Their decision to banish humanity had ensured that service would run smoothly for centuries to come.

Are You Up For The Twelve Month Writing Challenge?

It's that time of year again. The clock is ticking on 2013. If we haven't fulfilled our resolutions by now, it's almost certainly too late. But most of you are probably already contemplating your pledges for 2014. Hopefully that includes a fair bit of writing in your future.

If you don't have something specific in mind, then I invite you to join me on the Twelve Month Writing Challenge. Each month I will write one short story entirely within that month. By the end of the year, I'll have a collection 12 stories.*

Here are the rules:

1. Each story must be completed within a month
2. The title of each story must include the name of the month
3. Each story must be posted publicly by the end of the month
4. Each story must be accompanied by an original photograph that is thematically related and which was taken during that month
5. At the end of the year, the 12 stories must be collected into one volume and made available to readers for free
6. Minor editing can take place subsequently, but the writing for each story is finished when the month ends

Please note that there is no restriction in terms of content or story length. The story doesn't have to be related to the month. For example, March can refer to the month, the verb, or the hare. The idea is to create a construct that will help motivate you to write, and to write publicly, while still allowing for a great deal of freedom. By the end of the year, we should all have something to share with readers. That's the whole point.

I'll be posting my finished collection as a free download on Amazon and other online bookstores. If you don't have a place to post your work, submit it to me and I'll be happy to post yours stories on my blog.**

I'll be tweeting updates throughout the year using the hashtag #12monthchallenge and I encourage all of you to do the same. We can help motivate each other and provide feedback. If you're worried about the time commitment, don't be. Each story can be 100 words or even shorter. In fact, it's better to set small goals and exceed them than to intend to write a novella each month and give up half-way through January.

Happy New Year everyone and I look forward to reading your stories.

*No need to double check that math. That's cold, hard fact!

**As long as your work isn't pornographic, hate-filled, or gratuitously violent.

The Agony Of Farmland

Ellie drove while I fiddled with the radio. Neither of us spoke. It had been that way for an hour now. I wasn't angry like before and I was hoping she'd apologize so I could say it was okay. But then she'd sigh in that petulant way and my anger would resurface. There was no way I'd be the first to give in again.

The silence stretched on as the highway grew flatter and the forests were replaced by farmland. She'd better apologize before we reached my parents'. They'd probably side with her like they've done with all my exes.

Communal Sin

The fever spread through the village so quickly, everyone was sick before the first child died. The wise one said they'd been forsaken by the gods. No one listened. They were too busy dying.

In an earlier age, the epidemic, though tragic, would have passed quietly. The village would have been swallowed by the forest and forgotten. But these days, the village sat next to a gold mine, and many of the workers had come to the village for sex, then carried the fever back to the city. Soon the entire world was infected. Sin can no longer be contained.

Quickly, Now, Quickly

Shadows stretch through yellow light, grabbing at her moving outline on the sidewalk. Quickly now, quickly. In her pocket, she slips her middle finger through the ring of her keychain, the metal spines porcupine out from between the knuckles of her tightening fist. Quickly now, quickly. The time between the taps of her heels on the pavement shortens with her breath. Quickly now, quickly. Her ears swim in an ocean of rushing blood. Quickly now, quickly. Behind her, footsteps. Quickly now, quickly. She is almost there. Quickly, now, quickly. She stumbles, falls. Quickly, now, quickly. It is too late.

From Guest Contributor, Laura Fitch

Laura is a writer and a reader of a whole bunch of things. Her fiction and non-fiction has been published in print and online, but she's not about to tell you where. She likes fat cats and wine.

Colonial Malaise

We milled about the tunnel, waiting for instruction. Our day always began this way. No one seemed to have the initiative to do something on his own.

I'm not sure about the others, but my inaction wasn't for lack of impetus. I knew I should be outside gathering food and fighting off invaders. And every day was identical, so our tasks weren't that complicated. It was just that for whatever reason I never felt very motivated. Based on their apathy, my brethren were similarly predisposed.

This was probably the reason why our colony was consistently named the world's worst anthill.

The Statement

He studied the statement in his hand, trying to focus only on the words, not on their meaning. He couldn't think about anything but the words.

He'd been the Emperor for as long as he could remember, since childhood. He'd never been just Glenn. He'd never heard that name spoken, and he'd rarely ever thought about it.

But after he read that statement out loud, Glenn was who he would be from now on.

The Emperor put down the statement and took off his glasses. He wondered how long it would be before the new emperor decided to execute Glenn.

The Tablet Manifesto

The figure appeared out of the fog covered in blood and carrying a large stone tablet. He made it only a few steps towards us, then collapsed.

He was dead before he could be taken to the hospital and he would never be identified. The tablet was remanded into our possession.

At first, we thought it was just a blank piece of stone, but when examined under a microscope, a lengthy manifesto was discovered. It had been recorded in several languages in succession. After careful translation, the meaning became clear.

Boiled down, it read, "Stop being assholes to each other."

Whispers

The whispers tickled her ears as if carried on the wind. She'd turn around, looking for the source, but everyone would be facing lockers or huddled in small groups. Whoever it was, he wanted her to suffer.

She started faking illnesses in order to stay home for school, hoping he would forget her. Yet every time she returned, he was waiting to torment her. The worst part was that he never revealed himself, so she couldn't confide in a teacher or counselor, lest they think she were crazy.

It is this kind of insidious behavior that makes ghosts so frightening.