Microfiction
Cosmo
“Cosmo.. Your name is - Cosmo…” Dirty, viscous, sticky air. Sand flying in the wind. Everything seems yellow. Everything IS yellow. Is that the thought that you wanted to die with? Leaving you in the mirage of the melting asphalt, the further I go, the more of a memory you become. Real. Ever real. You’ve never been as real as you are now, being dead. Nebraska. Alaska. Nevada. Thrown everywhere by life. Never a home to come to, only a house. I found you in Reno, your head in the cloud, your mind electric from snow. A box of pills rattling in your purse, waiting to be used for the last time, in the room upstairs. Once and for all, end it. Identical mascara streaks on your cheeks like a personal camo, “pretending to be a regular girl, but not!”
By Salomé Saffiri2 months ago in Fiction
Downstairs Without Oscar
They made a game of it, taking their girls downstairs to the basement where there were no windows. The father had games for the girls down there. On Friday nights, he would drink beer after work, playing records for them. The mother would join them sipping wine and talking to the girls as the father paced and drank his stout.
By Ernest Taulbee2 months ago in Fiction
Mental Appointment
Notes after a cleaning: Patient has been keeping his ego in check, although his id needs some work. Charisma seems to be worn down (maybe a little confidence on prescription would take care of this). Pride and self-respect are cleaned up a little bit more than last time. Upper guilt on the left and the right are all acting up. May need to look at a realignment of chakras and aura work. Switching to Jung from Freud seems to be doing its job. In six months time, we will look at possible mood canal work. Will see in February.
By Kendall Defoe 2 months ago in Fiction
Last Call, Sally. . Runner-Up in Last Call Challenge. Top Story - August 2026.
The bar had quieted down as a woman in her 40's toyed with the drink in her hand. She spun the black straw counterclockwise, watching the ice rotate in a clunky circle. She laughed slightly as it stirred up a memory of when she was a child. She desperately wanted to do magic. She would try so hard to move the spoon in her chalky, Nesquick chocolate milk with her mind.
By Analesia Giammusso2 months ago in Fiction
Last call for Blackie Sage
Wilson Springs was one of those small desert towns that rose up overnight in the mid 1800's, there was a creek that ran through the outskirts of town named for one of the founding fathers of the little town that was no bigger than a flea on a cow's backside.
By Timothy E Jones2 months ago in Fiction
Owlet's Day. Top Story - August 2026.
Owlet sat blinking in the early morning light, high in the cherry tree. He had been out all night - as owls are - and he was sleepy. But he wasn’t ready to head back to the Hollow yet. He’d never seen a Day. Night, yes, plenty of those. But never a Day.
By Laura DePace2 months ago in Fiction
They Said It Was A Map
They told me it was a map. It had no writing on it so I did not know what the colours meant. Were they land and sea, sand annd soil? I could not tell, and they had gone and left me totally lost. This means nothing to me at all.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 2 months ago in Fiction
