I See You

If we could only look deeply into the eyes of strangers, we’d see not a stranger at all, but a piece of ourselves.

As I stand in line, I see a man pull his shirt over a large belly. Beside him, a teenager glances anxiously at passing faces.

If people knew, they’d feel more compassion for one another. Indeed, they’d offer kindness even as they are shown anger.

The knowing inside me is too big. I’m surrounded by the noise and lights of the world, seemingly unchanged from before. My heart aches. I see you, but do you see me?

From Guest Contributor Caitlyn Palmer

Cold

He’d never told a girl that he loved her before. The anxiety was far worse than a first kiss, his teeth chattering as if he’d been blasted by cold air. Although the June night was hot, she rubbed his arms, to warm him.

He started a couple of times, the vibration of his teeth getting in the way. Finally, amid a sparse chorus of crickets and the buzz of the street lamp over head, he said the words.

She responded by kissing him and holding him tightly, but that summer she would never say the words he craved to hear.From Guest Contributor Ran Walker

Ran is the author of 24 books. He teaches creative writing at Hampton University in Virginia. He can be reached via his website, www.ranwalker.com.

The Lions

It was coming home and it had to pass through the (Gareth) South Gate.

I wanted to witness this, so I hurried. Normally I’m a (Kyle) walker, but this time I had to (Jordan) pick Ford as means of transportation. Money didn’t matter, I had so much pound (Raheem) sterling in my pocket that I could have bought (Mason) Mount (Harry) Maguire if I wanted to.

During halftime, they played a song I like: Sugar (Harry) Kane.

I had a bowl of (Ben) white (Declan) rice, but it felt like eating (John) stones.

This really was a (Jack) grealish day.

From Guest Contributor Hervé Suys

Hervé Suys (°1968 – Ronse, Belgium) started writing short stories whilst recovering from a sports injury and he hasn’t stopped since. Generally he writes them hatless and barefooted.

Add One More Day

Positive and quarantined at home, my days edge along like a snail. Immersed in social media and Netflix, suddenly, I gasp for oxygen. Panting for a breath, I’m rushed to the hospital. Tethered to oxygen, I yearn to hug and cradle my child. I have to bake her birthday cake. I want to see her victorious smile when I lose at UNO. I must leave a lingering kiss on my husband’s lips. Flustered by my thoughts, I inhale into darkness.

Cool air blows as the blanket is snatched off me. “Mom, the Zoom password is incorrect.” I breathe in relief.

From Guest Contributor Hetal Shah

Hetal graduated with her Bachelor of Commerce from SIES. She lives in Mumbai with her husband, son, and daughter. She rekindled her hobby of writing over the past year. She is the winner of Mumbai Poetry League 2020, and her poem was published in an anthology by Poets of Mumbai called Guldastaa A Bouquet of Poems. She also writes flash fiction, and has been published twice on 101words.org. She loves to read, and especially enjoys reading and writing stories of romance and everyday life. Besides writing, she enjoys cooking new cuisines, traveling, and singing.

Search

I scramble the room for the file. Many lives depend on the information, including mine. When I accepted this job, I knew the risks involved and didn’t care. Now I just want to go back to my life.

Where is it? I search the desk drawer and every cabinet, but nothing. Major Thompson may be wrong. I swear quietly. It is not here.

Outside the sirens roar and car doors slam. Yelling soon follows.

I slip out onto the ledge and wait for their destruction to end before entering the room again.

The Nazi’s didn’t catch me. Not this time.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

You

Run.Feet crush the leaves; waves of terror crawl your spine.Slide.A tree – a savior! Red drops drip down from your ears to the ground.Crack!Terror returns like an old friend. It seems now is your end.Look.A challenge beckons you. Leaning around the bark, you peak into the clearing.Empty?Before you can contemplate, a hand wraps around your throat.“Missed me?”The version of yourself you keep locked away smirks at you.“I’m afraid of the dark.”The clearing dissipates as you are released.Clink!Chains now hold you down.“I don’t want to disappear.”

From Guest Contributor Sydney Clark

Sweet Revenge

“Trespassers deserve to be punished,” Ralph stated. “They have no business being on property they’re not entitled to.”

He stared at his damaged lawn.

Jeremy winced. “You sure about that? Might’ve been here before you.”

Ralph scratched his chin. “Okay, they’re diligent workers but they aren’t working for me.”

“How about you forget and forgive. Better still, prepare a nice meal for them.”

“That’s what I had in mind. Got all the fixings right here in my bag.“

After mixing up the concoction and serving it, Ralph watched.

With the sweet taste of sugar, the ants entered their underground home.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna is a writer of poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. She resides in Edmonton, Canada.

Napoleon In Rags

It was the season of mists. He had been forced by necessity to pawn his one good pair of pants. Now that he couldn’t confidently appear in public, he sat sulking in his underwear at the kitchen table. He couldn’t remember, Josephine wasn’t there to remind him, what it was like to live in anticipation of making love. Adversaries swooped around him like moon-crazed bats. If he had had a suicide pill, he might have taken it. The world only ever really pays attention when there is a panic or a traveling guillotine or when all the soldiers have syphilis.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie is the author most recently of the poetry collection Gunmetal Sky (Thirty West Publishing).

Animals Make The Best People

Hello everyone!

Starting today, I'll be accepting submissions for our next 100-word writing contest. The theme is: Animals Are The Best People. I want stories of amazing animals doing amazing anthropomorphic things. Dogs that can talk. Polar Bears that can fly hot-air balloons. Cats that commit murder (well, I suppose that's normal for cats). Whatever your creative writer brains can dream up.

Flash Fiction Contest Rules:

Submissions are now open for September's contest. The theme is Animals are the Best People. The rules are simple, but don't get cocky. Submitters somehow fail to follow instructions all the time:

• All stories must somehow engage with the theme of animal anthropomorphism. Be creative.
• The story must be exactly 100 words, not including the title.
• Only one submission per person. All entries are due by October 11th.
• Regular posts will continue as well, so please send in non-contest-related stories as per usual.

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

Also, if you subscribe to my newsletter, I accidentally forgot to update the subject line, so yesterday's email came in disguised as a Christmas email. Sorry about that!

Also, also, if you'd like to subscribe to my newsletter, here's the link. As you can tell from the above, emails are few and far between so you won't feel like you're getting spammed. I promise!!!*Note: This contest is meant for fun. While there are no actual prizes, as always, EXTREME bragging rights are involved!

Brief Affair

On night three of a four-day meeting, four of us drank in a bar. I played up to Jim, who was 20 years older, the boss, and buying.

A young blonde walked up and clasped Jim’s shoulder. “Let’s dance.”

Jim cut out faster than our company bonuses.

“She should be carded,” Tony said.

Jim returned quickly and gulped his drink. He signaled for a refill.

“You’re early,” Phil said. “I didn’t expect you ‘til morning.”

Phil, why don’t you suck up to the boss?

“Was she a pro?” Tony asked.

“She shanghaied me,” Jim said, “to dance with her mother.”

From Guest Contributor Tom Snethen

Tom is an Oregonian writing about the scoundrels he met in the chemical industry and being alone and scared as a widower at fifty.