She’d thought him joking, when he pointed at the urn and said he hadn’t let his last girlfriend leave him. She believed him now.
Misti Wolanski (@carradee) loves watching others’ eyes widen when she describes what she writes.
I used to wear my hair in a bun, smoothing it with wax. These days white flakes fall from my scalp, covering my shoulders. Not snow but ash.
Jami Nakamura Lin writes lots of things and is an editor at Revolution House magazine.
The firemen praised my courage but said I couldn’t go back inside. Unable to ensure the evidence was gone, I fumed the rest of the night.
Noel Sloboda wants to learn Swedish so he can read Nanoismer.
When he died, he found the souls of all the animals he’d ever hurt standing in a line, waiting for him. For a moment, none of them moved.
Simon Kewin just is.
I’m scared, I told him. Don’t be, he answered. I’ve known you your entire life. Here, take my hand, he said and reached out from the mirror.
Jens Thuresson enjoys writing, mostly sci-fi and fantasy.
For Sale: Human baby. Shoes not included.
Alan Green thinks this is less dark than that other story.
She asked for a water birth. Maybe I should have suspected, but there was never that much detail in the old selkie stories.
Jack Vivace works in numbers by day and letters by night.
She sat watching the children play on the swing, missing the future she was supposed to have.
J.D. Hall is a writer from Toronto.
William ignored his mother’s warnings as a rule, so he followed the glow into the swamp without hesitation.
Joshua Abramsohn teaches the power of literature to 8th graders.
An over-sized glass once filled with cognac in her hand; a melancholic skyline in the window. She thought she was in Manila. Was she happy?
Truls Mårtensson is troubled. And from Sweden.