Short Stories
The story follows an unnamed narrator who recounts how alcoholism and temperament changes led him to abuse his pets, including his favorite cat named Pluto. In a drunken rage, the narrator gouges out one of Pluto’s eyes, leading the frightened cat to avoid him.
“United Space-Service ship USS-4271 calling … Mayday … Mayday … This is Space-Patrol astronaut John Plantain … we are in low orbit around IO, we have meteorite damage, Auto-Nav’s not working and we have less than forty minutes before our low orbit causes Auto-Ignite to fire
I hope you don’t mind me calling you that, but it’s how we referred to you all these years. We assumed you were dead; lost in the war with so many others. Your letter was full of news, and we hunger for more. Especially about your “whole new family”
“Is it working? This is Lieutenant Cypher of the Echo-114 squadron. If you’re hearing this transmission, it means we’re lost. I’m the only one left. More specifically, I don’t know where all the others have gone.
One evening in late October, I thrashed my old rusty scythe at my overgrown lawn, whilst practising the odd golf swing. That’s when the flying saucer arrived. It hovered, casting shadows. Startled, I struck my foot, saved only by the scythes bluntness.
“I am not a warring man.” Igor watched the old man lead a German Shepherd through the rubble which Berlin had become.
Encounter With a Talking Head by VM Landi Every year during the summer my son and his wife, their two kids, and I would make the trip to the Jersey shore for a week. The oldest girl, Barbara, was around 3 the first year we took them, and her sister, Lena, was close to 2….
I’ve been caught up in your lies. I’m not the spider but the bug who waits to get swallowed in your web, those delicate strands. Yes, I’m wrapped inside where everything tends to hang.
Kim stared at her computer. She was looking at rough draft number she didn’t know what. She’d lost count, there had been so many changes. Her characters were no longer her characters. Her publisher wanted them all to be despicable.
You would hate it if you knew how many times I apply lipstick now that you’re gone. I’m putting it on, like, every five minutes to get through the next fifteen, though I know they use fish scales to make it
Long-suffering Gwendolyn O’Malley felt mid-sentence, the tiredness that comes with uttering pointless words.
He listened to the sound of rain on the roof. It sounded to him like crackling, and he imagined a raging fire above his head. He couldn’t catch fire himself because he was soaked in perspiration. He’d run until he was out of breath and ended up where he thought they wouldn’t be looking for him
We are holding off on publishing on our EWR:Short Stories site for awhile, but through the Holidays you can interact and submit your work to our main page at everywriter.net We are also running many contests and have calls for submissions
Useful. Keeping busy. Reading the trails, bringing home food.
Warm day, scurrying along, pavement warm, sun bright, right overhead.
“Hey guys, watch this.”
“God, he looks so big through that thing.”
Werewolves never existed. Humans created them from lore used to explain their loss of livestock at night. Humans rejected the notation that mere feral wolves could so quietly and so effectively take down and devour whole cattle in the dead of night without being detected