by Kathleen Costa
& Gemma Halliday
Maddie is a somewhat unenthusiastic participant tagging along with her mother and friend Mrs. Rosenblatt to the Antiques Extravaganza show, and even with a vintage pair of Chanel two-toned pumps in hand, she’s not sure the trip will be personally rewarding. However, Mrs. Rosenblatt hopes to wow the experts with her green, African fertility statue, and her mother, with a priceless family heirloom, is sure it will be considered a fantastic find garnering her an on-camera appraisal.
by Elaine Faber
“If I’ve told you once,” Papa Red Warty Thing said. “I’ve told you a dozen times not to stray so far way. Look at you. You’re already at the end of your tendrils and into the road. The tractor is coming. You’ll be smashed flatter than a fritter!”
by Joan Leotta
Leah Fields shifted in her chair as she took a break from reading and translating the ancient scroll before her. She smiled to herself.
by Gary Hoffman
He had the patience of a cat watching rain drops run down a window pane. But, at the moment, he was making no attempt to pounce. He had all the time he needed. He had been stalking her for over a month now. When he did pounce, it would be only once, and it would be the only time needed.
by Gary Hoffman
“Hey, Barb. Wantta throw one?”
Barb stopped in mid-step. “Sure.” She entered Jason’s office, and he handed her a dart. She took as careful aim as she could and threw the dart at the large cork board hanging on the other wall.
by Cathi Stoler
“You don’t get what you don’t ask for,” Marti always said, “but sometimes you get more than you wanted.” It was good advice from a mother who didn’t have much else to give, and I carried it with me as I moved through life. Although, right now, I wish I had understood it better.
by Wes Blalock
Seven weeks as an actual Cary Valley National Park ranger and Birdie McLaren was still excited to be wearing the time-honored “green and gray” uniform, although today she wore firefighter clothing, protective yellow and green Nomex. She adjusted her tiny frame atop the all-terrain vehicle, pulling a load of boxed food and bottled water up an old Army-built access trail.
by Margaret Mendel
Charlotte usually experienced a transition at dawn. She had lost count of how many of these she had undergone, but then, since her murder, not much made sense. There was a familiar feeling when this smoky life force came over her. Charlotte often thought it must be how a butterfly feels when it comes out of a cocoon. There was no casing though for her to break through only heaviness that weighted her down making it difficult to move about as she once again became active.
by Donna Albrecht
“You’re late.”
“Yes, Dad, there was an accident on Highway 95 or I would have been here a while ago.”
“You should plan better instead of leaving me looking like I don’t know what time you’re coming. How hard can that be?”
by Nupur Tustin
“When day turns to night, the world will be turned upside down.” The crone’s throaty cackle penetrated Joseph Haydn’s consciousness as he walked through St. Michael’s square to his quarters in the Michaelerhaus.
by Guy Belleranti
Sally Peale flattened herself in the back corner of Maureen Mitchell’s bedroom closet, hiding behind the longest evening gown.
“This makes no sense, Sally,” Maureen’s nephew, Brian, shouted from somewhere near at hand. “I know you’re upstairs. You can’t escape.”
by Dallas Dalyce
Yeah, I know I’m beautiful. At least I was until about a year ago, when the cancer reached my face. I don’t take any credit for my beauty. I was created this way. I didn’t have any choice or input. I don’t really pay it any mind; I just accept it, like we all accept that we have two eyes, two ears, one nose, and one mouth.
by Debra H. Goldstein
When it comes to jumping into the ocean, two things always hold me back: my fear of sharks and how I look in a wet bathing suit. Pete must have plied me with a lot of drinks last night for me to stand shivering, waiting to plunge into the Gulf of Mexico at high noon on Valentine’s Day.
by Gail Farrelly
Once upon a time…
There was a pudgy sheriff shivering in the cold as he looked out over a frozen lake. He pulled his black wool cap further down on his head and was thinking that he should have been home in bed. It was, after all, three o’clock in the morning—the morning of Valentine’s Day.
