So Lonely

Enlo's shallow breaths barely inhaled enough oxygen to maintain consciousness as he summited. Another goal accomplished. He surveyed the crests of the tallest mountains searching for some meaning to it all.

His assistant had urged he take a selfie, but he decided a photograph would only remind him of the futility. This expedition was meant to refresh him. All he felt was the impotence of the air around him.

Enlo Tuffin was the richest man in the world, and surely the unhappiest.

He started his descent. Nothing left but to punish the world for the misery it had brought him.

The Lie

It is too easy to start a lie.

I tried for a solid year to start a regular exercise routine, but it just didn’t take.

I promised myself eighteen months ago that I would only drink three days per week, but that never came to fruition. My current goal is to make a bottle of wine last three days.

Lying, on the other hand, was easy. I didn’t have to think about it. The words just spilled right out. It wasn’t conscious. I didn’t even have to journal about it or set a goal for myself. I just did it.

From Guest Contributor Amy Bracco

Relationships

I was about to toss you out. End our years of coexistence.

Reminiscing helped me see you in a new light. Made me realize how goodyou’ve been to me.

Through difficult as well as good times you were there for me. Yourgoal to please was simple. You aimed to brighten my dark evenings andmake me feel safe at night when I couldn’t sleep.

I’m thankful for your enduring warmth. For without you, I wouldn’thave been able to orientate myself in these surroundings. Nor read myfavorite books.

Lamp I’ve owned for countless years, we belong together.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. Her work hasbeen published at: Nailpolish Stories, 50-Word Stories, 100 wordstory, 101 Words, Boston Literary Magazine, From the Depths (HauntedWaters Press), ShortbreadStories, SixWordMemoirs, and EspressoStories.

Write Story

It's my second semester at college. When I started school, I really wanted to become a writer. But I always have trouble deciding what to write about.

So I'm flunking my Creative Writing class!

Today's the final and it's 60% of our grade. The instructor announces, “Write a very short story, with a protagonist, his/her background, his/her goal, an obstacle to that goal, ending with a little twist.”

I have trouble writing any story, let alone one with all those requirements!

Time is running out. So I just start writing:

“It's my second semester at college. When I started school...”

From Guest Contributor Kent V. Anderson

When Kent isn't writing stories, he is building robots.