The Walking Dead

Thinking about escaping across closed borders, I dug a hole outside. It was hard work. I pulled out bricks, barbed wire, glass bottles and jars, and old cans as I dug deeper. When my mind drifted too far into sadness, I stopped. Everything moves slowly now. I’m learning to be very stingy with supplies. On the table is a bunch of flowers I found in the trash. This may be a day for catching up on The Walking Dead, but I stand at a window that looks out on a yard. Somehow, just standing there feels like a hopeful gesture.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie Good is the author of What It Is and How to Use It (2019) from Grey Book Press, among other poetry collections.

Three Books

Sure, many of the English majors at Wilson-Reed College had read works by George Orwell, Octavia Butler, and Margaret Atwood before, but they had never read them assembled together in one course, until they took Dr. Regina Cabello’s Survey of Protest Literature.

When word of the curriculum made its way around campus, the board of trustees wrestled to find a loophole that would strip Dr. Cabello of both her tenure and job. Eventually they were successful.

By that time, though, her many students had learned, firsthand, the lessons of it all and were already preparing themselves to join the fight.

From Guest Contributor Ran Walker

Ran is the author of 20 books. He teaches creative writing at Hampton University in Virginia. He can be reached via his website, www.ranwalker.com.

It's Time To Get Out And Enjoy Nature

Unfortunately, for many of us, we can't. Or not the way we might be used to. So that's the topic of our next 100-word story contest: Nature.

Submissions are due by May 31st. Please follow the normal submission guidelines (here) but also include Nature Contest in the subject header so I know it is for the contest. One contest submission per person (though you are free to submit as many nature-themed stories for regular posting as you want).

Remember, I’ll still be posting non-contest-related posts on a daily basis, so keep sending in your stories, on any topic!

The rules are simple:

1. All stories must somehow engage with the theme nature. Be creative.
2. The story must be exactly 100 words, not including the title.
3. Only one submission per person. All entries are due by May 31st.

Starting in June, I'll for the most part post the stories in the order I received them, but I will keep the winning story for last.

That's it. Start writing. I hope I get plenty of stories, so spread the word.

*Note: This contest is meant for fun. While there are no actual prizes, EXTREME bragging rights are involved!

The Sickness

The sickness, that’s all we told Billy.

He couldn’t believe that Grampy fit into such a little container and we couldn’t convince him Grampy wasn’t coming home.

“But Grampy lives at home. Where will he live?”

The two were inseparable from Billy’s birth. Half-day Kindergarten was traumatic. Grampy paced all morning waiting for Billy to get home.

Once we gave Grampy a T-shirt emblazoned “Grampy: the myth, the legend, the man.” He wore nothing else unless it was pried off him to wash. He looked so peaceful in the casket wearing that T-shirt, we cremated him in it. Damn coronavirus.

From Guest Contributor NT Franklin

NT Franklin has been published in Page and Spine, Fiction on the Web, 101 Words, Friday Flash Fiction, CafeLit, Madswirl, Postcard Shorts, 404 Words, Scarlet Leaf Review, Freedom Fiction, Burrst, Entropy, Alsina Publishing, Fifty-word stories, Dime Show Review, among others.

Donning A Mask

The first time I’d worn a mask other than Halloween, was during the Covid-19 crisis. I needed groceries and the supermarkets had strict rules about entering without protection.

When I exited my car, I donned my mask, latex gloves, wiped down the wagon and entered the store. The supermarket was eerily empty, and the shelves were bare of toilet paper and rice.

I approached the cashier who was behind a protective shield and slid my credit card through the slot. Once approved, I packed my bags and left.

When I got behind the wheel, I removed my mask.

Fresh air.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Wasted Time

A woman sighed and leaned over the cash register. “I wish I could travel through time and be done with this shift already,” she groaned.

Suddenly, there was a whoosh, and the woman’s short hair whipped around her face. Upon opening her eyes, she found herself sitting comfortably on her sofa at home. She grinned and turned on the television.

Days, month, and years passed at light speed. With just one wish, each mundane, terrifying or embarrassing moment blurred into the past.

The woman finally stopped when she lay sick and old on her bed, having never lived at all.

From Guest Contributor Caitlyn Palmer

Senseless Dreams

We’re speeding in Mama’s 1955 Chevrolet Bel-Air. Mama’s talking about new names we’ll concoct. Lives we’ll live.

“It’s a movie,” she says, smile crooked. “Our lives. We can be anyone. Romanovs, if we want. People of privilege.”

I think of him. Proclaiming Mama hysterical, a dreamer too much into writing and other subversive things. He threatened to have her committed. I think of Mama and me packing late at night, holding on to each other.

“It’ll be fine,” Mama says. “He can fuck himself.”

We need plans, not senseless dreams. But she needs to believe. So do I.

“Yes, Mama.”

From Guest Contributor Yash Seyedbagheri

Yash is a graduate of Colorado State University's MFA program in fiction. Yash’s work is forthcoming or has been published in WestWard Quarterly, Café Lit, 50 Word Stories, (mac)ro (mic), and Ariel Chart.

The Arena

He sat on the stone bench waiting his turn. All his training for the last ten years led up to this moment. He could hear the muffled roar of sixty-thousand screaming fans in the stadium above. If he won today, the Emperor would grant him his freedom and the citizenship.

His trainer signaled him to get ready. He picked up his shield and sword and walked to the platform that would slowly raise him to the arena floor. As his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight, he saw the lions. A sudden foreboding flooded through his body. The crowd cheered.

From Guest Contributor Janice Siderius

The Cellar

Oksana pounded the door of Zoya's wooden house. She screamed.

"Zoya, the Red Army has surrounded the village. Hide, Zoya!"

Zoya, holding her toddler Ekaterina in her arms, opened the door.

"Oh, God, help us. Oksana, where's Father Nikolai?"

"They've started a fire in the church! Hide, Zoya."

"God have mercy. Run Oksana. We'll hide in the cellar." Zoya pressed her daughter tightly to her breast. She ran to the cellar.

Zoya embraced her daughter. She heard a crashing sound. When she realized the smoke was coming from above, she said, "I love you Ekaterina. We'll be together in Heaven."

From Guest Contributor Deborah Shrimplin

Historical Fiction Winner

Call me a sucker for Shakespeare, but my choice for the best Historical Fiction entry is Lady Macbeth, by Linda Lowe.

Here it is again, in case you missed it:

Life had become so boring, so beige boring. Every day it was hound the maids, light the candles, greet the guests. Then along came prophecy! What’s not to believe about a witch, let alone three? Once again, my world oozed with possibility.

What came to pass? Life in red, gushing red. There was blood in the soup, blood in the stew, blood on the hands of my husband. I thought about the plagues in Egypt, the Pharaoh who knew about miracles turned against him. I thought about science. That what flows, surely ebbs? While the old king’s blood ran blue.

Congratulations Linda, and thanks to everyone who submitted stories to our first ever contest. In my book, you're all winners!

And if you want to read the other submissions, you can find them here.

Of special note, a lot of you submitted more than one story, and because I was only posting one story per day, I didn't want to have repeat submissions early in the month crowd out first-time submitters. I'll be posting those extra submissions in the coming weeks. Moving forward, I'll close submissions before I start posting.

I'll be announcing a new contest soon, but in the meantime, keep submitting stories!