Magnolia

Pink Patsy’s throne was her porch, where she roosted like a proud poodle through the better part of a century. She was all pretty pastry and puffball in oodles of swaddled satins and mega bijoux, with cloudward curls as epic as her jewels. Her communal vat of ice cubes and iced tea was legendary among heat-struck fieldhands and thirsty children alike: there was more gin than lemon or sugar, and we fished out ice with silver tongs that looked like chicken feet. They said she kept a tiny pearl pistol in her pom-pom mules, and she only used it once.From Guest Contributor Lorette C. Luzajic Lorette is a widely published writer of flash fiction and prose poetry, with recent appearances in Tiny Molecules, The Citron Review, Ghost Parachute, Dillydoun Review, and more. She is the founder and editor of The Ekphrastic Review, a journal of literature inspired by visual art.

Flying Jack

CONTEST SUBMISSION:

Jack watched the planes fly with wonder. As a puppy, he aimed high. As a teen, Clark Kent and YouTube inspired.

He left soaring.

Networking at airport lounges was his forte. Frequent flyer points reached Gold Star status, so he flew over many oceans visiting his poodle friend Jeanette in Paris, Rob Retriever in St. Louis, and Sheepdog Barbie (named after the Barbecue and not the famous long-legged, wrinkle free doll) in the Aussie Outback.

When jet lag took its toll, Jack chose rails. When arthritis restricted movement, brimming with nostalgia, he watched the planes fly by, grieving what was.From Guest Contributor Isabelle B.L

Isabelle is a teacher based in France. She has published a novel inspired by the life of a New Caledonian feminist and politician. Her work can be found in the Birth Lifespan Vol. 1 and Growing Up Lifespan Vol. 2 anthologies for Pure Slush Books, Flash Fiction Magazine, A Story in 100 Words, Visual Verse, The Cabinet of Heed, Ample Remains, Found Polaroids, Five Minutes, Kitchen Sink Magazine, and Splintered Disorder Press. Her work is forthcoming in Drunk Monkeys.

The Party

The smell of quality cheese and the clinking of wine glasses told Mark he was at the right party. He was feeling good. That is, until they came in.

The divorce destroyed him, and there they were. At the same party. With him.

It took two years of therapy for Mark to recover, to heal, to become whole. They were supposed to be out of town. But here they were.

They walked up to him.

“Hello, Mark. Good to see you.”

She was holding Nanette. One look at the poodle and Mark knew two years of therapy was not enough.From Guest Contributor NT Franklin

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

She Was Beautiful

I’ve never been accused of being a dirty old man and I’m not. I know it. I’m not even close. But I couldn’t help staring at her walking in the park. What a beautiful sight. Trim, lean, and muscled; a perfect specimen. A joy to watch. She had no idea how perfect she was. Perhaps that made her perfect. I stared at her and no one seemed to care. I even received a nod or two from others in the park. I can’t be sure, but I think they were watching her as well. A prize-winning poodle, she was perfect.

From Guest Contributor N.T. Franklin