Microfiction
Milk of the Earth
The mahogany trees in Sierra Leone cracked under the worrying sun. Joseph trekked, kicking up dirt with porous sandals. His newborn daughter, Hawa, was cradled against his bare chest, suckling at his nipple. Wincing, he fixed a woven, white cloth over her head.
By Paul Aaron Domenick14 days ago in Fiction
Trason's Fit... (Revamped Monologue In 47 Words)
My Entry: This morning while eating, my son Trason insisted that his food had been poisoned and proceeded to throw his plate of grits at the wall so hard that it fractured into itty-bitty pieces. If I don't do something about things soon, I could be his next target.
By Tiffany Gordon15 days ago in Fiction
Tony's Wedding Toast
"I’m toasting this couple, who met years ago. Lindsay was underage, so it’s good that Brent went off to graduate school. We know there’ve been ups and downs, quite a roller coaster, but love conquered all. Brent got down on one knee and placed that enormous emerald on Lindsay’s chubby finger. What? She had pregnancy fluid retention. I’m a jeweler; I’ll resize it, free. First, Lindsay Ceriddo is smart, funny, and sweet. So weird to attach Brent’s surname to Lindsay. Raise glasses! Second, Brent is an okay provider. Third, Baby Ceriddo, all the best to you when you pop out."
By Andrea Corwin 15 days ago in Fiction
Fast Fashion
“Gidday.” “Hi, Dad.” “Stevie’s camping at Uluru…” “Nice.” “Yep. He got a new wardrobe…” “Really? Out there?” “Overnight, he strung his clean washing on a clothesline, from the back of his car. Next day, fifty clicks down the track, he spotted a lone sock flying behind him.”
By Angie the Archivist 📚🪶16 days ago in Fiction
"I Can't Catch My Voice"
It did not begin with a clear diagnosis. It began with a sweet memory of her. Her mental illness arrived slowly enough that, at first, it seemed like ordinary aging. She misplaced things. She repeated a question she had asked only minutes before. We laughed sometimes with kind intent, the usual way families do when something petty goes obviously wrong. It was comfortable then to believe that nothing serious had begun.
By Lori Armstrong16 days ago in Fiction
