July, 2016
Three pieces by Barry Gross
Sipping Bourbon
A/C groans through 80 percent humidity.
Playing solitaire, naked, baroque radio.
She exits shower, enters bedroom, says,
“You’re a real class act.”
Drops towel.
Christmas Trimmings
She points, “This one.”
A wreath is a wreath.
Criteria? I don’t know.
“It’ll green the door.
Make merry.”
Come March,
a great fire starter.
Fall Colors
Heart in gutter. Sponge drunk.
Cracked shot glass, leaking liquor, bleeding lips, numb smile.
Beer soaked money sticks to bar.
Leaves discolored after summer life.
Barry Gross is a poet and substitute teacher who lives in Bucks County, Pa. He’s moved to write by the every day; observe and record. He listens to all kinds of music and is currently enjoying Miles Davis and band playing “Jean Pierre.”
Rubbernecker Red by Paul Beckman
I hung back from the police barricade transfixed with the cops and crowd when a woman noticed my blood red nails dripping and screamed.
Paul was one of the winners in the Queen’s Ferry 2016 Best of the Small Fictions. His latest collection, “Peek”, weighed in at 65 stories and 120 pages. His website www.paulbeckmanstories.com
Three pieces by Michelle Wallace
Fuchsia Fantasy
He’d been attracted to her potential.
She’d been enchanted by his fading glory.
Two rebels.
One extraordinary love.
Perfect combination.
Reality bites.
Who’s fooling who?
Ghostly Green
“Lucky plants showered with attention, if only…”
His wife sifts the potted compost, tenderly.
Be careful what you wish for.
You just might get it.
Wildlife Expedition
Hipsters, leather jackets and motorbikes
Bonnie and Clyde reinvented.
Volatile liaison.
Cocktail of anger, sadness and revenge
Hurtling along life’s highway.
Fast forward.
Self-destruction…
Inevitable!
Michelle Wallace is a writer-in-the-making, on a never-ending journey…a flash fiction junkie!
She blogs at http://writer-in-transit.co.za/
Sole Mate by Suzanne Cottrell
Frayed strap, broken heel, scuffed leather; worn beyond repair.
Replicating life.
Slumped in her chair, enveloped by her robe, clinging to memories.
One more dance.
Suzanne Cottrell lives in central, rural North Carolina. An outdoor enthusiast and retired teacher, she now has time to pursue other interests and projects. She is a fledgling writer, working to spread her wings and ride the thermals.
Two pieces by Tobi Pledger
Steel Waters Run Deep
The swimmer broke the surface, ripples in molten steel, and swam to shore. He walked toward the horizon dripping ball bearings onto the glassy beach.
To Be Continued…
I feel great. Lithe, pliable, pain-free, months of physical therapy worth every minute. I raise my arm to high-five the world. Pain seizes my shoulder.
Tobi Pledger is new to creative writing and has previously only written continuing education and scientific articles. This is way more fun.
Russian Roulette by Marla Dunham
In Hollywood films,
the game seems exciting
no one really dies
Orlando, Sandy Hook, Virginia Tech
they did
white roses by Caitlin’s stone bare witness.
Marla Dunham lives in Chapel Hill, NC. She retired from college English teaching after four decades. She is currently enjoying her family, including her wonderful granddaughter, her poetry writing group, exercise, reading, and registering people to vote.
Two pieces by Lisa Nielsen
Bitter Buddhist
My breath is monotonous and
as soothing as
sirens and barking dogs. I’m
tired of ignoring smirks and
misconceptions just
so I can say ohm.
Just Nothing
That shrug says enough. Take her high maintenance hand of frost and gold and give it a squeeze. My cuticles taste better when they’re bitter.
Two pieces by Madeline Mora-Summonte
Dark Anemone
Headstones jut, teeth to snap her back. The open grave, a dark maw eager to gulp, to swallow. But still she drifts, rootless yet trapped.
Red Heels
Jenny lost a shoe, but she is no Cinderella. She shucks her prom dress, weaves into the water. On the sand, her broken tiara glitters.
Madeline Mora-Summonte is a writer, a reader, a beach-comber, and a tortoise-owner. She is the author of the flash fiction collections, The People We Used to Be and Garden of Lost Souls.
Watch Me Go by Elizabeth Konkel
She clutches the bouquet, blue and flecked with snow. She places it deep into the ground. Before she leaves, she brushes snow off the tombstone.
Elizabeth Konkel has a BFA in Creative Writing, a special interest in photography, and a love of stories. She grew up in a rural community on a farm where she learned about animals, family, and folklore. Her passion is Screen Writing, fantasy, science fiction, and nature photography.
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