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Small Broken Things, by E.W.H. Thornton

30/5/2025

Editor's Choice

Every time Meiko used her camera she was reminded of her brokenness, her autoimmune disorder that rejected cybernetic implants, not just limiting her sight but reducing her lifespan to only 87 years.

Japan's many abandoned villages beckoned. Meiko called the project Tsukumogami after the everyday objects that became demons after 99 years of neglect.

Everything from imploded televisions to toothless combs whispered to her, saying cybernetic implants were ignored despite extending lives for centuries.

They promised Meiko a new life if she'd be their human link, whispering that nothing had to be alone—not even small broken things; not even her.

4 Comments

A Flock of Fools, by Pamela Kennedy

30/5/2025

7 Comments

As each day went by the obvious became more obscured. His eloquence captivated his audience wherever he went. Tantalizing promises of abundance, wealth, and security couldn't be resisted.

"I need your help," he implored his followers. "Seek out those who do not share our vision..."

Neighbors spied on each other in casual ways. Opinions opposing the Council were reported as well as actions contradicting the "approved behavior". Neighborhoods became smaller as the unfaithful were moved away to an undisclosed location. There seemed to be no ending to this insanity.

It could only have ended when his followers stopped following him.

7 Comments

Friendly Skies, by John O’Keefe

30/5/2025

3 Comments

Flying first class I had oysters and cured salmon for appetizer, and when I couldn’t decide which entree to order the stewardess brought out both the scallops and the filet mignon. Then I noticed I forgot my iPad home. The airline gave me one; Merry Christmas! The fatso sitting next to me turned out to be a nice guy, also a corporate CEO who offered me a position as his chief accountant.

Yes, good things happen to people on airplanes, especially in first class. I wish I were not scared of flying and would try it at least once.

3 Comments

Yoga Class, by Colleen Addison

30/5/2025

1 Comment

“I’m so glad you’re doing this,” she said cheerily, as I flung my legs upward, my shoulders staggering, my fingers starfished on the studio floor. In the mirror I saw my face redden under the not-quite-obscuring fall of my too short hair; I hoped my blushing complexion was the result of gravity but knew it to be embarrassment. How long could I stay here, my arms bent at this angle? Not long enough. I’d always been awful at inversions. In ill-fitting leggings I slid awkwardly down the wall; I turned my head, and there she stood: my slim supple ex.

1 Comment

Second Opinion, by David Sydney

30/5/2025

2 Comments

As the hygienist finished her work on Mel's mouth, Dr. Fransmeyer, with the developed X-rays, came into his cramped office. He was not the kind of dentist to pay for excess space.
“This one needs to go for sure.”
He pointed to the films.
“And this tooth, too. I think I can save this third one, though, with a root canal.”
Mel squirmed in the dental chair.
“Could I get a second opinion?”
“Opinion? Sure. I can give you the names of some dentists.”
“I'm not wild about dentists, Dr. Fransmeyer. I was thinking more like the Tooth Fairy?”

2 Comments

Rules, by Don Tassone

30/5/2025

10 Comments

It began with good intentions. Rules to reduce risk. Policies to guide behavior. Laws to ensure fairness.

But as more rules, policies and laws were adopted, none was repealed. Regulations piled up like cordwood. For many, life became a joyless effort to follow the rules.

And because breaking those rules carried penalties, most people hunkered down. Better to do too little than risk too much.

Eventually, though, the bureaucracy collapsed under its own weight, leaving people free to live as they wished.

Within days, new speed limit signs popped up. Within a year, there were even more rules than before.

10 Comments

A Tribute, by Deborah Shrimplin

30/5/2025

3 Comments

Paul was driving his girlfriend, Rachel, to a job interview in his new car.

"Wow, this car must have cost a pretty penny," Rachel said.

"I think it's worth every penny," Paul said.

En route, Rachel became silent.

"Penny for your thoughts," Paul said.

"You know, my parents have cut me off without a penny. I need this job!"

"You'll do fine. You've prepared for this."

While walking to the office building, Rachel found a lucky penny. She picked it up, slipped it into her pocket and took a deep breath.

Two weeks later, she started her first job assignment.

3 Comments

The Emperor's New Bill, by Sherri Bale

30/5/2025

4 Comments

The self-appointed emperor sat high in the viewing stand. It was his birthday, and there was a YUUGE military parade to celebrate him and his Big Beautiful Bill. Below, his faithful sycophants waved red hats in homage.

The emperor unfurled a 50-yard roll of paper, declaring, “Here are all the ways we will make our country great again!”. Some of his followers said, “Isn’t it wonderful?” And others nodded in agreement. “Oh, yes. Certainly. Very wonderful indeed.”

One small boy, on his father’s shoulders, shouted, “There is nothing on that paper!”. His father pulled him down quickly. “Hush” he implored.

4 Comments

The Organ-Grinder and the Monkey, by Gordon Lawrie

30/5/2025

Onstage, an overwight foul-mouthed man turned his barrel-organ handle incessantly. The audience knew of his revolting womanising, his endless lies and fraudulent past; but they sat transfixed as he churned out numbers like My Way, King of the Road and Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better.

However, the organ-grinder’s star turn was his trained dancing monkey, exhorting the audience to clap along.

When one number ended, the organ-grinder demanded that the audience applaud his simian companion.

“And he can speak!” the organ-grinder yelled. “Say something for them, Jaydee!”

“You’re the Greatest, Mr President,” chanted the monkey, “the Greatest!”

The Return, by R.S. Nelson

30/5/2025

3 Comments

Right after he left for good, his moustache returned. It sneaked in through the door, wobbled all the way up to the bedroom and laid down on their bed, its dark hairs spreading on his pillow.
Happy to have a piece of him, she let it stay. But when the moustache’s hairs grew, she grabbed the scissors again. The moustache hid under the bed, coming out after much coaxing, shaking, hurt; like him, before he left.
She reached out, asking for forgiveness, and laid down next to it. She got rid of all the scissors the next day.

3 Comments

George The Butterfly Tamer, by Allison Symes

30/5/2025

1 Comment

‘George, the butterflies are restless.’

‘Bill, they want to fly. Scared?’

‘All bar you fear fifty feet butterflies who terrify dragons. It’s unnatural.’

‘Not here.’

‘Only because some imbecile put the magic food in the wrong enclosure. What should have suppressed the dragons’ ferocity was scoffed by the butterflies. They become giants with an attitude problem. They ate the last keeper.’

‘He annoyed them. Free them. I must update my records.’

The scream didn’t surprise George.

George added “deceased” to Bill’s record. ‘I let the butterflies out again this year!’

George knew it was poetic justice. He was that imbecile.

1 Comment

To Thine Own Self Be True, by Tony Covatta

30/5/2025

2 Comments

Dad asked Alex (10): “What do you want to be when you grow up?”
“A lawyer!”
Mom: “Alex, you never speak. You couldn’t do that.”

During his twenties, preparing for a teaching career, Alex started declaring he’d transfer to law school. His dismayed, favorite prof advised him: “Alex, law school? Please don’t—you’re way too nice.” Buoyed and flattered by this he went on to start teaching.

When well spoken, kindly lawyer Alex (75), retired after 40 successful years at the bar, his law partner Amanda asked: “Any advice?”

“Yes. It’s never too late. Always listen to your inner voice.”

2 Comments

The Garden, by Mimi Grouse

30/5/2025

2 Comments

When Cora was angry, she gardened. Every dig, every weed wrenched up, every plant pruned was a gesture of rage. Unawares, her husband was glad she had a hobby which allowed him to spend time with his lover.
When Cora died, he scattered her ashes there.
His lover moved in shortly after, a gentle girl who fed birds and encouraged wildlife. Abandoned to itself, the garden flourished. Critters made themselves at home, their little feet mulching Cora's ashes, their little feelers picking up the sense of safety.
It had only taken one irate button spider to restore the natural order.

2 Comments

Soul Shadow, by Guy Fletcher

30/5/2025

1 Comment

Craig sat on a park bench when his relaxation was interrupted.

"How are you Craig?" inquired Jack.

He looked like his sister, before she was taken away in the ambulance. He remembered kissing her outside the local pub, it seemed like centuries ago. She hadn't recovered from the death of her husband and vodka and affairs only held the pain of her grief for a while.

"She really was fond of you Craig but I guess she liked the vodka more."

A shadow drifted across the park and into Craig's soul.

1 Comment

Netsuke, by R.K. West

30/5/2025

2 Comments

Mr. Takamatsu had started using gadgets to replace the functions of his failing left hand. Rotating clamps held the tiny figures in position while he carved and painted their intricate details with his right hand. It, too, was doomed by the creeping numbness.

He had researched assistive devices: exoskeletons, pneumatic gloves, electrical stimulators. Nothing offered the necessary precision.

Soon, he would have to stop. His family’s art, passed from father to son for countless generations, would fade away. He had no sons.

Takamatsu called his 12-year-old daughter into the workshop. “Kyoko,” he said, “it is time for you to learn.”

2 Comments

Standing on the Corner, by Janice Siderius

30/5/2025

4 Comments

She had been standing on the street corner for hours. Her feet and legs hurt. The breeze tossed a strand of blond hair across her forehead lined with age. She thought of all the good and bad things she had lived through. She had no choice. Standing at the intersection was a small gesture but it was the one thing she could do.

Watching the cars parade by, she reflected on the current situation. How had it come to this? Do others feel and think the same way? She waved her sign: "No Dictators Allowed".

Three cars honked in agreement.

4 Comments

Standing Assumption, by Louise Arnott

30/5/2025

5 Comments

“Explain yourself, please.” The prof’s index finger bore into Lisa’s term paper.

Lisa tossed her hair. “I’m testing a theory.”

"And, your conclusion?”

“You don’t read assignments. You scribble a grade without supporting the decision.”

“Your A is insufficient? You require further accolades?”

“I want specifics. What makes my writing stand above the others?”

He flipped to the final page. She gasped, her eyes trapped by the heavily circled red F.

“Would acerbic comments support my decision regarding this erroneous derisive writing?”

“You’ll have my A paper Monday.”

“No, Lisa. The F stands. Grades, like respect are earned, not assumed.”

5 Comments

Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun, by Sarp Sozdinler

30/5/2025

1 Comment

After his mother passed, he stopped playing the piano. He said it didn’t sound right anymore—that the keys felt too clean, too willing.

His daughter tried once, thinking it might comfort him. He stood in the doorway, watching her fingers stumble through Debussy, then left the room before she finished.

The house grew quieter. Even the fridge hummed softer.

Later, she found a sticky note tucked on the piano lid: “Do not disturb the quiet she left behind.”

She opened the lid, touched the ivory keys with two fingers, feeling the low tremble of the strings. She began playing.

1 Comment

Wassup! by Virginia Ashberry

30/5/2025

1 Comment

Yo Bev, wassup!

Oh, hi Freddy! How are you doing these days?

Oh, sorry. I forgot, Freddy smiles, you’re a committed analog talker now. Totally in love with grammar, punctuation and vowels. How’s that working for you?

Pretty well… I was able to get a job. My co-workers are all very nice. Moving uptown was a big change, so I’d say… I’m ‘comfortable’.

Me and the gang don’t see you anymore. Your absence gets mentioned. Are you hiding from anyone in particular?

No… just hiding from my past. Like I said. I’ve changed, and I’m comfortable… but terribly, terribly, lonely.

1 Comment

Uprooting the Old, by Sivan Pillai

30/5/2025

4 Comments

The plot’s new owner will soon construct a luxurious house and a garden. He has cut all the trees in the compound, leaving only their stumps. I was also not spared, though I was standing in a corner.
The birds that nest among our branches must have been shocked to find their damaged homes lying on the ground. In the twilight, they flew somewhere else, making strange noises.
The flowering season has begun. As my roots are still alive, several flowers and fruits have appeared on my stump.
When they uproot me, let them realise what they have lost.

4 Comments

An Unusual Participant, by Krystyna Fedosejevs

30/5/2025

5 Comments

“You believe in ghosts?”

“Only at Halloween,” Stewart smiled.

Clifford tried a different angle. “There’s one in the room with us.”

“Go on!”

The two friends had books spread out on the kitchen table in preparation for a school test. A sudden gust of air surged inside from an opened window.

“Feel that?” Clifford asked, crisscrossing his arms tightly against his chest.

“It’s just the wind.”

“But is it really?”

Stewart’s look changed to one of concern.

“My mom’s into ethnic cooking big time,” Clifford stated. “She’s making curry tonight.”

“Is it very spicy?”

“Ghost pepper will make it hot.”

5 Comments

Strange New World, by Graeme Copland

30/5/2025

1 Comment

I open my eyes.

My mind is immediately filled with previously unseen colours and sounds, smells and tastes. I feel…different.

Where am I? Only a few moments earlier, I was in a warm, dark, quiet place where I was happy and safe. Now, I am surrounded by strange creatures who stare at me, prod me, make incomprehensible sounds. Worst of all, they bare teeth in a frightening way. I cry: Go away!

Wait. What’s this? Oh, what a delight! I feast and am immediately filled with warmth. I am wrapped in something soft. I feel tenderness and love.

Hello, Mother.

1 Comment

Party Girl, by Sue Clayton

30/5/2025

6 Comments

Ici Les Mort, the sign stated, behind which the eighteenth-century debauched of Paris would host decadent parties amongst the discarded piles of bones in the realm of the dead.

I always loved a party; tried to imagine what a catacomb party would have been like back then.

A centuries old gate creaked open, drawing me away from others, viewing the neatly staged piles of bones along the tourist path.

“Come join us,” breathed an intangible voice, drawing me towards clinking glasses and soused laughter.

The door clanged shut.

How long, I wondered, before I became a pile of party bones?

6 Comments

The Great Sacrifice, by Remmie Thomas

30/5/2025

1 Comment

At the Great Patriotic War victory parade, Irena held up a faded black-and-white photograph of a serious-faced young man to TV cameras. “This was my great-grandmother’s brother, Dimitri,” she said, tearfully. “He died fighting the fascists.”

Back in 1941, protecting Moscow, Dimitri, an untrained militiaman who had lied about his age, picked up a fallen comrade’s rifle (there was only one weapon per two soldiers) and aimed shakily at an advancing German tank.

Realising the impossibility of his situation, he turned to retreat, only to be shot from behind Russian lines for cowardice.

“Dimitri made the greatest sacrifice,” said Irena.

1 Comment

Live from Lilliput, by Cheryl Dahlstrand

30/5/2025

5 Comments

Long columns of ants marched along the bedroom wall in military formation. I brought in an exterminator, trusting his professional expertise.

He dusted the trails thoroughly, but without immediate success. I began to suspect I lived on an unusually aggressive ant colony.

When I contacted him again, he was not surprised. “You really do have a problem,” he agreed. “Insect repellent may save you. I, unfortunately, cannot.”

Frustrated, I resolved to try another exterminator

Too late. The next morning, I discovered I had been tied down in the middle of the night. Like Gulliver, I really did have a problem.

5 Comments

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