Essence of the Beach - Kristen MacIsaac
Eve of Execution - Bunmi Oke
Ripper - Lesley Mace
Perspective - Lori Cramer
The Test - Gloria Garfunkel
I take a sip of cappuccino from the oversized mug and curl up on the couch with a book. I snuggle against the plushness of the robe and smile at the bunny slippers on my feet.
Suddenly, I feel all warm and fuzzy. Freakin' hot flashes and unwanted facial hair.
Crystal Moore doesn’t like to reveal much about herself, which is why she won't be found working the pole at a strip club. However, she can be found dividing her time between the realm of her imagination and the coastal plain region of North Carolina. Her publication credits include humorous greeting card copy, children's short stories, and flash fiction.
The Essence of the Beach
Her soft words rolled like the waves, and her arms embraced him while the sand hugged his toes. The water glittered like her eye shadow where the stars sprinkled light. He dreamed of possibilities as boundless as the promises in her eyes. Would he miss her, or only that moment?
Kristen MacIsaac is an avid reader who writes what she wants to read. Her childhood stories involved fantastical creatures, poisoned paintings, and other impossible events. Now, her focus is slightly more realistic, and she is currently working on her first novel. Kristen can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.
Eve of Execution
Any option but the firing squad. Ain't scared of death, only want my passage to be unhurried. And voluntary.
Jugular vein, carotid artery... eeny, meeny, miny, moe. Anyway, I'll settle that after this valedictory dinner of bacon and eggs.
A good thing the knuckleheads included table knife in my cutlery.
A short attention span plus a profound liking for brevity make him an incurable addict of flash fiction. From Microbookends.com (contest winner), through 81words.net and drablr.com to 101words.org and more, Bunmi's works are strewn across literary platforms of the ultra-short genre. When not working as a Pharmacist,—which he often forgets he is—this mid-twenties dude's busy entertaining story ideas on an (ab)normally-distracted mind.
Gas-lighting on wet London cobbles and the tock-tock of well-shod horses drawing a closed carriage across an alley-entrance.
In the slum a candle is snuffed—darkening the room where life is already extinguished.
The man—a swirl of cloak in fog, a hand holding a spattered knife—is borne homeward.
Lesley writes in a garden room that’s stuffed with books and notebooks. She is an Escalator Award winner, and has received Arts Council England funding for her writing. Published in Writers’ Forum (three times first prize-winner), Bewildering Stories and previously in Boston Literary Magazine, she is currently working on her second book, a crime novel, set in the underworld of 1860s London.
In my mind, he pens eloquent love notes to tuck tenderly under my pillow, composes exquisite melodies for me on the piano, and paints my portrait in brilliant hues.
In reality, he yells, “Hey, stalker girl—yeah, you in the Giants cap. Quit staring at me. You’re creeping me out.”
Lori Cramer’s fiction has appeared in the 11th Annual Writer’s Digest Short Short Story Competition Collection, Pudding Magazine, and Postcard Shorts. She lives in Lancaster County, Pa., with her husband and children.
The air pulsated with radioactivity. A sheen of oil covered the oceans, beaches, marshes. The Jewel of the Solar System had been decimated. What was it that had lived in the Rain Forests? Everyone was cramming. It was going to be on the test tomorrow in high school on Mars.