Blog Archives

Angel's Song, by Malvina Perova

25/4/2025

Two "Editor's Choices" this week. It's not fair to choose between them.

Editor's Choice🇺🇦

Five minutes of silence. The rescuers switch off the machinery, put their phones on mute, and stand still at the ruined building, listening to the rubble as if it could speak. With a scratch, a moan, a muffled song… it sends a desperate SOS from hell, and they rush to dig, yelling, “I see someone! Hold on, Sunshine!”

They unblock another body, a woman, dusted and bleeding. “It’s good you started singing. We wouldn’t know you were there.” They wrap her in a blanket and carry her to the ambulance, stumbling on the way.

She half-opens her eyes, surprised. “Singing?”

10 Comments

Journey's End, by Julie Turland

25/4/2025

8 Comments

Editor's Choice

Belching and hissing, we approach a once thriving station. My brakes shriek with anger. Puffing my battered body shows signs of age. I watch the passengers alight, their faces etched with melancholy, as I sense the age of innocence dies.

A mournful whistle, as the lights fade and the soft sounds of Auld Lang Syne fill the air, before the gates close on yet another station.

The future begins tomorrow, leaving no room for the past. One more journey, my destination, oblivion. Maybe one day your grandchildren will ask you about the time proud engines like mine served without complaint.

8 Comments

Autopilot, by S. Anand

25/4/2025

3 Comments

It's almost dawn. He dived into the code for another round of debugging.

It'd been a wicked day - the elevator going under repair, his cubicle getting shifted to the bay across the corridor, his code going haywire, and everyone else going on holidays. He drudged alone, bleary-eyed.

His mind was on the 2146th line of code when his feet took him to the restroom. It was while looking for the handwash he realized that he had peed in the elevator and that right is left since the cubicle shift the previous evening. The elevator security camera blushed and blinked red.

3 Comments

Smike, by John O’Keefe

25/4/2025

6 Comments

We used to make fun of Smike in yoga class. He was a frail Dickensian dunderhead in - of all places - Central Virginia.

Once I asked the gym director about policy concerning mentally challenged individuals on the premises. He frowned. “Are you referring to yourself?”

Then another epidemic was upon us and the TV interviewed a local expert, Dr. Smike, distinguished professor of medicine. That Smike happened to be our Smike, and appeared quite confident and knowledgeable on the screen. I suddenly realized, Smike was a genius, not an idiot.

His name, however, has remained objectionable. Smike? Please!

6 Comments

Nature Girl, by Sarp Sozdinler

25/4/2025

3 Comments

He brought his daughter to the exhibition his coworkers recommended.

“He loves nature,” he said, meaning the artist but pointing at the oil-painted elm. “Just like you.”

She didn’t know how to tell him it had been three months since she last saw a butterfly. That their new home was miles away from the mountains. That the town didn’t even have a park. Still, she enjoyed that he saw her as a nature girl.

She looked at the painting. The artist got the lighting all wrong. The angles of the world didn’t run that steep.

“He’s great,” she said, smiling.

3 Comments

Toil and Trouble, by Graeme Copland

25/4/2025

5 Comments

“What are you doing?” asked Endora.

Sabrina looked up from her laptop. Her mother had just arrived home and was hanging her conical hat on the stand.

“Shopping. I saw this recipe on the Interweb and wanted to try it.”

“What are you shopping for?” Endora placed her broom in the corner next to her cat, Salem. “Bat shavings? Toad clippings? I know we’re short of bloodweed.”

Sabrina shook her head. “Not ingredients. I need a microwave oven.”

Endora looked towards the fireplace. “Silly child, “she scolded. “Why do we need a microwave when we have a perfectly good cauldron?”

5 Comments

Same Old Thing, by Allison Symes

25/4/2025

6 Comments

Today Vera knows she won’t hear the usual after dinner remark, ‘Lovely, dear, but it’s the same old thing.’

The internet said it was National Carbonara Day so she’d make that as something different.

The cooking went well, the kitchen smelled wonderful, but there was still no Stan at six pm.

Vera could set her watch by him strolling in at 5.45 always ready for dinner at six.

The door flew open, Stan rushed in, embraced her, waved at the cooking and said, ‘Forget that, darling. We’re off to that new Italian restaurant we’ve heard about. It’s National Carbonara Day!’

6 Comments

Music, by Colleen Addison

25/4/2025

2 Comments

Join a choir, the audiologist said after the wires emerged from my ears. We began with scales, chords, parts of melody I hadn’t parsed before. As sounds coalesced, I became frightened: should I switch to the comfort setting? But I breathed them in, these hums and murmurs coming through my faulty organs with their aids, feeling something rising in my heart. The director spread his fingers for silence. This, he said, and sang a note, only slightly muffled. My eardrums were tired, but I saw the shape of his lips: listen, he told us. Listen: let this song be heard.

2 Comments

The Cleaning Lady, by Mary K. Curran

25/4/2025

4 Comments

Audrey pushed her cart through one of the 18 miles of corridors to the important office she had to tidy up that evening. She opened the door of the poorly lit room and was surprised to see the head honcho lying on the couch.

She glanced at her bottles of garlic oil and holy water among the cleaning solutions and fingered the samurai sword stashed with her mop, broom and hickory stake.

Suddenly awakened, he frowned at her. "Get the hell out," he slurred.

She would never have a better opportunity. Audrey, vampire hunter, was ready to clean this place.

4 Comments

New Rules, by Nelly Shulman

25/4/2025

6 Comments

Standing at the cash machine, Serena counted the bills.
“There must have been a mistake,” she muttered. Having pressed the usual buttons, she had received only two hundred.
A surly, smoking man took her place as she marched toward the doors. Public smoking had recently been reinstated as normal. Wrinkling her nose, she stepped into the white space.
“Excuse me,” Serena approached a young man. “The machine made an error, and—”
He rolled his eyes.
“New rules for women. You’re allowed to withdraw only one hundred a month. President’s order.”
The automatic door pushed her out, money and all.

6 Comments

Hollywood, 1940, by Chris Callard

25/4/2025

2 Comments

“Drink, Kharis! The brewed tana leaves! Then take your vengeance on those fools who dare to defy the curse of ancient Egypt!”

“Cut!”

George Zucco, wearing a fez, left his fellow actor who was wrapped in linen.

Walking off the set, his sad eyes fell upon the script girl. “You know, my dear, I was once the biggest star on the London stage.”

The youngster stared at him blankly. “I know. That’s why I ignored the line you blew.”

He threw up his hands. “Thank you. The money ain’t bad, either.” And with that he disappeared into his dressing room.

2 Comments

He Built a Wall, by Marc Littman

25/4/2025

3 Comments

He built a wall, not of earth and stone, but something just as strong. The wall withstood countless attacks over the years from foes but also friends and family. The betrayals hurt him at first but he learned to resist retaliating. Why suffer more abuse by acknowledging their assaults? Indifferent, he just tacked on another layer smoothing over the pockmarks, and now safe behind his fortress, he can’t hear the taunts. Cruel words can’t penetrate. He can’t see angry words scrawled on the outside of his wall for this is a wall of hardened emotions within a walled off heart.

3 Comments

Dystopia, by Rani Jayakumar

25/4/2025

4 Comments

Cara pulled her favorite cereal off the shelf. “Soon robots will do the shopping, honey,” Alex might say, if he were ever free. Outside, their private beach-country was perfect. She wasn’t bored, was she? When the Event happened, they’d move underground together. When they got old, they’d be frozen and “downloaded.” She remembered their old house and felt a twinge of regret for leaving their nanny Rosa behind. But she shook it off - Rosa, and those like her, had no place in their future. Like the dinosaurs, they’d soon become extinct, a new world birthed above their bones.

4 Comments

Making Luck, by Liz deBeer

25/4/2025

20 Comments

We eat black-eyed peas, long noodles, twelve grapes on New Year’s Day. We hang dream catchers over beds, horseshoes over doors. We celebrate bird-droppings on our heads and rain on our wedding days.

If crows gather in churchyards or pennies face down, we burn white sage to repel negative spirits. And if a mirror breaks, we panic, fearing bad luck. Quick: Spin around three times while throwing salt over shoulders.

A few of us, though, sort through the sharp shards, glue them onto terracotta planters, wooden picture frames, or ceramic mugs, creating mosaics to reflect back on our jagged selves.

20 Comments

The Good and the Dead, by Tony Covatta

25/4/2025

3 Comments

“Why so glum, Jerry? It wasn’t your funeral.”
“Amanda, that eulogy! I couldn’t recognize Paul --‘A good shepherd?’--Don’t make me laugh.”
“Paul always looked out for Number One, it’s true, but—”
“So why avoid it? You know everyone is saying the same thing as they drive home. Paul was money grubbing and—”
“Hey! ‘De mortuis nil nisi bonum.”
“What?”
“Latin, ‘Nothing but good about the dead.’ “
“So?”
“People have always wanted to close the books positively. See the donut, not the hole. What should I say at your funeral after I murder you?”
“Good point.”

3 Comments

Athlete in the Making, by Cheryl Dahlstrand

25/4/2025

4 Comments

Only four years old but I know what I want to be.
A soccer player!

For my first game, I wore a bright blue shirt.
There’s running, and also a ball.

The ball went over the line and all the kids ran after it, but I was there first. When a boy tried to kick the ball, I knocked him down.

Later in the game I was sitting on the bench.
(I don’t know why.)

The coach said he needed a sub.
(Whatever that is.)

He picked me, because I was the only one not crying.
Whee! Soccer’s for me!

4 Comments

Mary's New Wheels, by Dawn Knox

25/4/2025

3 Comments

Mary had a little Lamborghini.
Well, that’s what she’d told her friends, anyway.
“She must have won the lottery,” remarked one.
“It’s going to end in tears,” said another. “She’s not the best driver in the world and such a powerful car won’t be easy for her to control, driving through narrow country lanes.”
“She’s coming into town later, so we can check it out,” said a third.
Shortly after, Mary pulled up next to her friends.
“What’s that?” one of them asked her, pointing at her new wheels.
“My new Lamborghini,” she said.
“Mary! I think you mean Lambretta.”

3 Comments

Not Always Insignificant, by Louise Arnott

25/4/2025

9 Comments

“Licence please.” The officer leaned in to the Mustang, shining her large flashlight on the driver. “Are you even old enough to have one?”

“No, Officer.”

“No? You won’t show me your licence or…How old are you, Miss?”

“My mom says age is a number. It has no significance by itself.”

“I assume your insignificant number would not match the one which should be listed on your nonexistent licence.”

“You would be correct. My number, as of today, is five-eighths the law’s requirement.”

“Good luck, Kiddo. The price of retrieving her property may have your mother rethinking significant numbers.”

9 Comments

The Revolutionary, by Robert P. Bishop

25/4/2025

5 Comments

“You are guilty of undermining civic harmony by insisting on the right to vote, Mr. Morgan. You may address the court before sentencing is imposed,” said the judge.

“I demand the right to vote!” said Howard.

“Voting destabilized society by separating people into warring factions,” said the judge. “This destructive and divisive behavior ended when our Make America Great Again Republic was founded on January 20, 2025. Voting no longer turns citizen against citizen. Now we have a nation of peace, prosperity and obedience to the law.”

“I want to vote!” Howard shouted as he was dragged away.

5 Comments

Been There, by Glenda Bailey

25/4/2025

6 Comments

“911, What’s your emergency?”
“I need help. My mother is going to kill me. She bought a new lipstick and I just wanted to try it, but it broke in two,” the voice started to sob.
“Don’t panic. When will your mother be home?”
“Around 6:00,”
“Okay. What is the name of the lipstick?”
“It’s Pauline’s Peachy Delight.”
“I get off work at 5:00 and I can drop off a new one to you then. “
“You’d do that for me?”
“Sure, the same thing actually happened to me. By the way, what’s your name?
“Danny. What’s yours?”
“I’m George.”

6 Comments

Emoji Reaction, by Hayley Igarashi Thomas

25/4/2025

1 Comment

Welcome to space, deep space, an expanse of dark-mode black splashed across your laptop screen. You are tethered to a messaging platform called Slack, yet you are lost, adrift. Here, no one can hear you internally scream.

This night is full of stars. You are not one of them. You feel dull, pointless.

Look upon your words, sent into the void, and despair. Edit them. Wait.

You are left hanging. No one is coming to save you. No one--

Like a supernova, color bursts beneath your words: one emoji reaction, a heart.

Grasp the lifeline. Breathe, anxious astronaut. Rest.

1 Comment

The Final Crossing, by Sivan Pillai

25/4/2025

5 Comments

The river swelled every moment, encroaching on both banks. Whirlpools that swallowed everything in the fast-flowing river discouraged people from crossing it.
It would be the last time I saw the river like this. The dam upstream was nearing completion, and a bridge will soon take people across.
I was the only one ferrying scant passengers. They trusted my old hands to dodge whirlpools.
As I began paddling back, I thought of the shackled river in the future.
A whirlpool beckoned me. When the boat started to sink, I was happy to merge with the river in its prime.

5 Comments

Tom's Winning Personality, by Jo Riglar

25/4/2025

2 Comments

Tom was optimistic about the lottery.
‘We’ll build that extension, we’ll go cruising.’
Mel felt utterly insignificant.
I must live my life,’ she said and left.

Afterwards, Tom was checking numbers, always trying and failing to entice Mel back.
Then he met Sarah, surprised at her interest. She was an oneirologist, studying the meaning of dreams.

She married Tom and asked him to give her financial power of attorney.
‘She thinks I’ll win and hand everything over!’ he said.

Sarah worried about his irrational decision making. He never appreciated that she loved him. She didn’t stay.
Tom continued to dream.

2 Comments

Hope, by Sue Clayton

25/4/2025

10 Comments

Homeless and hungry read the cardboard sign. The man was huddled, shoulders hunched, outside the laundromat where I’d taken my single load.

“Can I buy you a meal?”

“You’re very kind.” He raised his head and I fell into haunted, sad eyes, with a glimmer of hope.

Over a Big Mac and fries he told me how the loss of his wife and child had brought him so low. I shared my own loss.

That night he slept on my sofa bed.

These days we carry two loads of washing to the laundromat, our eyes full of hope.

10 Comments

Remembering, by Christa Loughrey

25/4/2025

6 Comments

April. Your birth month. But who will remember that, twenty eight years after your death? Will anyone even remember that there was once an ‘us’, all those years ago? I muse on this as I lie in bed listening to the blustery gale creating havoc in my garden.

Dawn reveals a mess of plant pots playing chase with a pile of swirling litter. Sighing, I step outside to start tidying. A gust picks up some stray piece of vegetation, green topped with blue, and tosses it down at my feet.

A forget-me-not.

My heart swells.

You. You remembered ‘us’.

6 Comments

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Each week, our editor selects a story or (occasionally) a poem as 'Editor's Choice'.

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