Be careful reading: these words are contagious. Surgical masks are encouraged. ‘Contagious Little Things’ is the new issue of 50 to 1. The authors are infectious so nurse them back to health. Work by: Mike Capuano, Amanda Paul, N. Joy Lutton, Bret Bass, Neal Kemet, Gay Degani, and Carolyn Nielson.
Glen is calling for submissions. Just be sure to read the guidelines. He doesn't enjoy being a stickler jerk who has to reject great work because the author didn't read the instructions.
Another Family Vacation at Disneyland by Carolyn Nielson
She watches the spinning purple pinwheel under the shelter of her mother’s large maroon umbrella. Her cabbage head father looks down at his only daughter in his usual insipid way without seeing the joy spreading over her face. It is the last photograph she will have of her nuclear family.
In spite of living in California most of her life, Carolyn Nielson did not visit Disneyland until she was 37. So she often imagines unhappy people in The Happiest Place in the World.
She watches the spinning purple pinwheel under the shelter of her mother’s large maroon umbrella. Her cabbage head father looks down at his only daughter in his usual insipid way without seeing the joy spreading over her face. It is the last photograph she will have of her nuclear family.
In spite of living in California most of her life, Carolyn Nielson did not visit Disneyland until she was 37. So she often imagines unhappy people in The Happiest Place in the World.
Broke and Broken by Gay Degani
One hundred insipid grins from one hundred Cabbage Patch dolls mocked her. They’d emptied her bank account, invaded her house, sucked the marrow from her bones. In the maroon shadows of her darkened bedroom, she caught glints of their pinwheel eyes, and dared not leave the haven of her quilt.
Gay Degani has published in journals and anthologies including The Best of Every Day Fiction TWO (2009). Her stories online can be read at Smokelong Quarterly, Night Train, 10 Flash, Emprise Review, as well as other publications. Pomegranate Stories is a collection of eight stories by Gay. She is the editor of EDF’s Flash Fiction Chronicles and blogs at Words in Place.
One hundred insipid grins from one hundred Cabbage Patch dolls mocked her. They’d emptied her bank account, invaded her house, sucked the marrow from her bones. In the maroon shadows of her darkened bedroom, she caught glints of their pinwheel eyes, and dared not leave the haven of her quilt.
Gay Degani has published in journals and anthologies including The Best of Every Day Fiction TWO (2009). Her stories online can be read at Smokelong Quarterly, Night Train, 10 Flash, Emprise Review, as well as other publications. Pomegranate Stories is a collection of eight stories by Gay. She is the editor of EDF’s Flash Fiction Chronicles and blogs at Words in Place.
Hunt by Neal Kemet
We waited by the river for ducks. A pair was flying joyfully over the surface of water. Josh killed one of them, with one shot. The duck fell, tried hard to swim then sank. I was less fortunate. I killed the lonely widow after three attempts. Josh won the competition.
Neal Kemet received a Ph.D. in philosophy from the University of Calgary and has taught in
Missouri. Currently, he is an independent scholar writing from Marian, IL His most recent stories appeared in Danse Macabre and 50 to 1.
We waited by the river for ducks. A pair was flying joyfully over the surface of water. Josh killed one of them, with one shot. The duck fell, tried hard to swim then sank. I was less fortunate. I killed the lonely widow after three attempts. Josh won the competition.
Neal Kemet received a Ph.D. in philosophy from the University of Calgary and has taught in
Missouri. Currently, he is an independent scholar writing from Marian, IL His most recent stories appeared in Danse Macabre and 50 to 1.
Manifest Destiny by Bret Bass
I initiate the lift-off sequence, my final terrestrial command before the world fills with a jarring, primal noise. The screaming of a million gods defying our progress. Forbidden geometries spew across visors, mourning every birth, scorching every death. We breach the thermosphere. Discharge. And this planet becomes another disappointing memory.
Mr. Bass writes things. Lots of things. He gets paid to do this by people who should know better. He currently serves as an editor for the corporate equivalent of a Turkish bazaar. Previous work has appeared in Every Day Fiction and other publications.
I initiate the lift-off sequence, my final terrestrial command before the world fills with a jarring, primal noise. The screaming of a million gods defying our progress. Forbidden geometries spew across visors, mourning every birth, scorching every death. We breach the thermosphere. Discharge. And this planet becomes another disappointing memory.
Mr. Bass writes things. Lots of things. He gets paid to do this by people who should know better. He currently serves as an editor for the corporate equivalent of a Turkish bazaar. Previous work has appeared in Every Day Fiction and other publications.
Knuckles by N. Joy Lutton
Driving along the winding road, the man turned and smiled at me, a vaguely familiar toothy, goofy grin, before cracking his knuckles against the worn stick shift. Snap, snap, snap…snap. Cracking them the same way my husband had months ago as he drove to McChord for a flight to Afghanistan.
N. Joy Lutton holds a B.A. from Pennsylvania State University and is earning a M.A. in English at California State University, East Bay. She is the Managing Editor of Arroyo Literary Review (Issue Two). Her non-fiction has appeared in various magazines, Websites, and newspapers.
Driving along the winding road, the man turned and smiled at me, a vaguely familiar toothy, goofy grin, before cracking his knuckles against the worn stick shift. Snap, snap, snap…snap. Cracking them the same way my husband had months ago as he drove to McChord for a flight to Afghanistan.
N. Joy Lutton holds a B.A. from Pennsylvania State University and is earning a M.A. in English at California State University, East Bay. She is the Managing Editor of Arroyo Literary Review (Issue Two). Her non-fiction has appeared in various magazines, Websites, and newspapers.
1st line by Amanda Paul
I died in Aisle 10, reaching for the last “Just for One”s microwavable dinner on the top shelf.
Amanda Paul is a junior at Franklin Pierce University. She has been published in Six Sentences, Pill Hill Press and Black Lantern. She has spent a lot of time trapped in grocery stores, resulting in this first line.
I died in Aisle 10, reaching for the last “Just for One”s microwavable dinner on the top shelf.
Amanda Paul is a junior at Franklin Pierce University. She has been published in Six Sentences, Pill Hill Press and Black Lantern. She has spent a lot of time trapped in grocery stores, resulting in this first line.
1st line by Mike Capuano
Paper and ink are all you need to breathe.
Mike Capuano loves seeing people expressing themselves and striving for greatness. He enjoys writing about nonsense or about uncomfortable situations that life has thrown him into. He acts, writes music, writes stories, and is currently in school working on his second degree. He is part of The Broad Set Writing Collective.
Paper and ink are all you need to breathe.
Mike Capuano loves seeing people expressing themselves and striving for greatness. He enjoys writing about nonsense or about uncomfortable situations that life has thrown him into. He acts, writes music, writes stories, and is currently in school working on his second degree. He is part of The Broad Set Writing Collective.