by Lori Cramer

Dressed in a neon-pink sweatshirt, leopard-print leggings, and Reebok high-tops, Barbara pushes a grocery cart from one aisle to the next. Nearly every song on the supermarket’s retro playlist sparks a fond memory of her youth. Dances. Frat parties. Games in the quad. As she’s selecting a Lean Cuisine entrée for tonight’s dinner, a ballad comes on, stirring tender recollections of her first love, Barry. Over by the frozen pizzas, a man in khakis and a blue oxford like Barry used to wear catches her eye. He smiles. And, for just a moment, Barbara could swear that it’s 1987 again.

* * *

Lori Cramer’s short prose has appeared in Fictive Dream, Flash Boulevard, Scaffold, Splonk, Switch, and elsewhere. Her work has been longlisted for the Wigleaf Top 50 and nominated for Best Microfiction. Links to her writing: https://loricramerfiction.wordpress.com.
Bluesky: @loricramerwriter.bsky.social.

by Israel Allen

Wind whistles Scottish hymns,
air forced through small gaps,
fragments of autumn
littering Carolina.
 
Trees scratch a serenade,
friction-shaped notes,
bark on bark, bending
branches too bare to rustle.
 
Leaves brave blacktop,
crackling like a gray choir,
odes of October
breaking in their throats.
 
My stride falls in rhythm,
sole-stepping the tune.
Arrogant, I imagine
the song is for me.

* * *

ISRAEL ALLEN writes and teaches fiction and drama. His work includes the plays Ask Me Anything and The Emerald Heist and the novels Ian Baker’s .45 and Bibles and Ball Bats (writing as Chris Allen).

by Andrea Tillmanns

Don’t worry, my dear:
The herbs in my garden
are harmless, old and tame
is the raven on my shoulder,
the words in my books
sing of no evil.
And when we go dancing
in the evening,
we park our brooms
neatly in a row.

* * *

ANDREA TILLMANNS lives in Germany and works full-time as a university lecturer. She has been writing poetry, short stories and novels in various genres for many years. Her poems and stories have been published in diverse journals and anthologies.

by Sara Etgen-Baker

* * *

​SARA ETGEN-BAKER has written a collection of memoir vignettes and narrative essays (Shoebox Stories), collection of poems (Kaleidoscopic Verses), and a novel (Secrets at Dillehay Crossing).  Her work has been published in numerous anthologies and magazines including Guideposts and Chicken Soup for the Soul. 

by Lori Cramer

Natasha greets me at the door. Once we’re settled on the sofa, I confide that Gavin has, once again, broken a promise to me. Though Natasha has had to listen to countless chronicles of Gavin’s disingenuous deeds, she kindly lets me vent without interruption. I wish she could tell me what I should do, but I must make up my own mind. So I decide: I’m going to break up with him. As soon as I’ve said the words aloud, I feel better. And, apparently, so does Natasha. She curls up into a ball, closes her eyes, and begins purring.

* * *

LORI CRAMER’s short prose has appeared in Fictive Dream, Flash Boulevard, Scaffold, Splonk, Switch, and elsewhere. Her work has been longlisted for the Wigleaf Top 50 and nominated for Best Microfiction. Links to her writing:
​Wordpress: Lori Cramer Fiction 
Bluesky: @loricramerwriter.bsky.social.

by Bonnie Demerjian

His glinty eye,
alert for the shiny,
avid for the curious.
He’s a connoisseur of beauty
and feels no guilt.

I too am a collector— 
subjects for poems,
bright objects of delight
brought home to my nest, my desk
to sort and muse upon.

* * *

Bonnie Demerjian writes from her home in the Tongass National Forest, a place that continually nourishes her writing. Her poetry has appeared in Tidal Echoes, Alaska Women Speak, Blue Heron Review and October Hill Magazine, among others.

by Diane Payne

On this particular morning, there was a light wind and plenty of sunshine, rare for early autumn. One by one, the neighbors carried their wet laundry out to hang on the clotheslines. Those that lived in upstairs apartments reeled in their clotheslines that hung above the street, singing the same song with their neighbors, harmonizing as they pinned their socks, bras, tablecloths, and underwear.

Those with small city yards engaged in lengthy conversations about what they were making for dinner, boysenberry jam recipes, and how to train your cat to do fabulous tricks.

One neighbor talked about a long-ago boyfriend who tossed his grandmother’s chamomile seeds in the garden that he later harvested for their morning tea. She lamented how she left him for the boyfriend who meticulously shaped bonsai plants, hovering over them for hours, while she knew he’d never trust her with anything, especially his bonsai, unlike the seed thrower who trusted her with everything.

“Yeah, we rarely pick the right one,” the neighbors on both sides of the lawn said while the sheets flapped in the wind simultaneously, and everyone breathed a bit more freely.

* * *

Some of Diane Payne’s most recent publications include:  Cutleaf Journal, Mukoli, Miracle Monacle, Hairstreak Butterfly, Invisible City,  Best of Microfiction 2022, Another Chicago Magazine, Whale Road Review, Fourth River, Tiny Spoon, and Bending Genres.   More can be found here: dianepayne.wordpress.com

by Terri Mullholland

"Imagine your ideal world," whispered The Weaver, "and I will make it come true."

On her loom, she began to weave a whole kingdom. By her hands, my dreams blossomed—a castle and forest of soft threads. 

All night she toiled. 

In the morning, she spread her silk-spun land on the barren earth outside her cottage—where nothing had grown for generations. 

Immediately, it sprouted and spread, sending forth a forest with a winding pathway. 

"It will grow as you walk to your castle. Follow it. Do not stop. Do not look back. I will meet you there. I promise."

* * *

Terri Mullholland (she/her) is a writer and researcher living in London, UK. Her flash fiction has appeared in various journals and anthologies. She loves stories, cats, and tea. 

by Lori Cramer

Something about Marjorie intrigued us. Was it her hair color? Her sense of style? The way she walked?
 
We soon figured it out: She reminded us of us.
 
So we agreed we’d let her sit at our table. Lucky her! She lunched with us every day for a month.
 
But then she met Harry.
 
Now she eats her meals at his table. Watches doubleheaders with him instead of double features with us. Strolls right by as if she doesn’t even know us.
 
The nerve!
 
So we’ve made a decision: That’s the last time we befriend anyone in this retirement home.

* * *

Lori Cramer’s 100-word stories have appeared in The Drabble, The Meadowlark Review, Whale Road Review, and elsewhere. Her work has been longlisted for the Wigleaf Top 50 and nominated for Best Microfiction. Find out more at https://loricramerfiction.wordpress.com. X: @LCramer29.

by Elysia Rourke

I am born on a whisper of your breath. A sigh of wind volleys me skyward, the corners of your mouth in close pursuit.

Can you see all you’ve created, mirrored on my cellophane skin? The garden, masterpieces scrawled in colourful chalk, and two children with remnants of homemade raspberry jam sparkling from spring-kissed cheeks.

I settle on the grass, its blades dulled by winter. There is still time.
​
You lift your wand again. My siblings flutter from your lips. The children squeal, “You made a rainbow, Mummy!” You’ve made their smiles too.

Here, enough simple joy I could burst.

* * *

Elysia Rourke lives in Almonte, Ontario with her husband, two sons, and dog. She has a weakness for London fogs, Christmas morning, and a salty ocean breeze. Her writing can be found at www.elysiarourke.com.

by Miranda Ray

He started out growing matchbooks in his backyard when he was ten. Every year, and every subsequent science fair, his craft evolved until he was growing birdhouses, doghouses, toolsheds, and drive-through espresso stands. By the time he turned twenty, he could seed the earth with a shingle, a doorknob, an unbitted key, and grow a one-bedroom one-bath house complete with an antique claw foot tub.

The houses gestated in two weeks, and could be moved into by the third. In six months, he had single-handedly solved the homelessness problem on all six habitable continents. The middle class moved out of suburbia in droves, trading Venetian blinds for venation wallpaper, electricity and wind power for chloroplasts and photosynthesis.

He was the youngest living recipient of the Nobel Prize, and went on several well-documented dates with many well-received actresses. He was invited to demonstrate at TED Talks, and was the keynote speaker at the New Earth Summit. In autumn, when houses around the world were just starting to change their colors, he delivered a rousing commencement speech at the University of Oxford and unveiled an orchard of new dormitories. Amid rapturous applause, a lone student put her hand up and asked:

"So what's the plan for when the roofs fall off in winter?"

* * *

Miranda was raised on a small island in the Pacific Northwest. She is the author of Lustily Ever After, the first erotic audiobook musical for adults. Visit her online at www.mirandaray.com, or find her @dammitmiranda on Instagram.