Adults

Devastated by Brandon Murphy (a Short Story Contest entry)

The boy looked down as he ran, wary of tripping on the uneven ground. Hurried yells echoed off the nearby walls. Various things fell from the sky and landed all around. The cacophony of raised voices were drowned out by a clatter of wreckages. The boy flinched to protect his head. His pace slowed as he gasped for air. He turned and saw a city that he no longer recognized. Pompeii was ash.

The Gunman by Alice H. Brown (a Short Story Contest entry)

“Do you think he really means it?”

“Yes,” she texted back.

The twins hid under a covered display table. A gunman had quietly slipped into their classroom locking the door. He ordered everyone against the windowed wall. Then he just stood there pointing the rifle. Minutes ticked away.

Finally, he said, “It’s too much.”

There was a loud blast. Screams. The gunman collapsed. Blood splattered onto the display cloth. All wemt eerily quiet.

Ronin's Wallet by Alan M (a Short Story Contest entry)

A bloody wallet lays on the banks of the river. A praying mantis takes something out of the wallet and dances, swaying, like a pendulum. Flashback 3 days ago; a lone Ronin walks into the post office to mail a letter to his love. For refusing to step on a tile of Christ his letter of love remains forever unsent...

What the Nanny Said by Nickie Shah (a Short Story Contest entry) 

I rise early in our weather-beaten house on Cranbury Road, listen to a blackbird sing. We had moved in last week and are finally unpacked. My daughter sleepily rambles in, asks if I believe in ghosts. Of course not I reply. She insists that ghosts are real. She is five. The nanny told me our house is haunted, she adds. I don’t know what to say. We do not have a nanny.

Untitled by Barbara Keegan (a Short Story Contest entry) 

They send cards and texts and messages on Facebook. I know they are thinking of me. But we don't talk. We just exchange written pleasantries. This way of communicating is strange; yes, it is nice to be remembered, but it leaves me feeling hollow. 

Sometimes I think I have a lot of friends. But then I realize....I just know a lot of people.

Creek by Veronica Sudia (a Short Story Contest entry) 

With my knees in the icy creek, I put my hand to the back of my head, finding it sticky with blood.

My sister was running towards me when I realized something wasn’t right. If she had thrown the rock that had knocked me down, how could she be coming this way? 

When I looked down, I saw two jacketed arms and two very large hands grabbing me from behind.

Moan Alone by Dj (a Short Story Contest entry)

You like lines, I prefer designs, like a spiral in a spiral, or a box within a box, over hills and over clover, over sticks and over rocks and over and over and over and over all over the summer and fall, and it just keeps getting higher, it's already way too tall, and you squeeze by trees and wheeze and sneeze and you allergies put you in disease and that's not to mention the doggone bees, when you home and you moan alone. The dogs are rude, when you moan alone where they just pooed. Oooooh, I think I got someone my shoe.

A Woman by Priti Kandlur (a Short Story Contest entry)

She is amazing with many feathers in her cap. Everyone wonders how she does it all and still smile. Its ok if she falters from time to time or needs a break for herself. Because she is beautiful with all her imperfections & we love her just the way she is. She is a mother, a sister, a wife, a friend, a professional. She is all that and more. She is a woman.

Untitled by Eileen M. Regen (a Short Story Contest entry)

There was no fuss that Saturday morning, Alex had just come downstairs. Lawrence was standing at the front door with his friend Liam. My Father was in the scullery washing his breakfast dishes. " I'm going now " I said to him . He nodded but didn't say a word, he continued washing his dishes. I said goodbye to Alex Lawrence and Liam, and I hurried to the waiting taxi . I was going to America.

The Conversation by Lily Frances (a Short Story Contest entry)

"I was sorry to hear about your wife's passing."

"It's still hard for me to realize she's gone."

"I was lost when my husband died."

"How long ago did he die?"

"A year now. Although it seems longer."

"Does it get easier with time?"

"Some days are still hard."

"I still haven't packed up her clothes."

"You won't be alone for long."

"Would you like to go to lunch?"