The call she knew would come came. He’s gone, they said. Died in his sleep. Tears fell, some for joy that he was free. She could let him go at last. In a sense, he’d been gone for six long years since they first heard why his speech was mixed and strange. The words […]
There were no entries in the multi-syllable three hundred word contest.
Writers’ Morning Out is now accepting submissions for the twelfth annual Ultra-Flash Fiction contest. This year, for the second time, the contest will have two divisions: one-syllable and multi-syllable. The one-syllable UFF Contest was conceived by Al Manning to encourage writers to proofread. The contests rules also encourage writers to read and follow guidelines […]
He drove straight through, despite his full bladder and his aching left knee. He wanted to get to the summer house before sunset, and he still had twenty miles to go. He had considered stopping at the general store, but that would mean another round of condolences from whoever happened to be there, and he […]
Since the stroke, his words won’t come—hide and seek, smudge and slur, thoughts and tongue as thick as mud yet clear to him. “Speak?” He is urged by his nurse, his wife, his son, as if he will bark and wag for a treat, sit, heel, stay. “Drink? Eat? Sleep? Pee? Pooh?” they […]
Or so said Gran, the old witch. Who knew what she saw, what lay in the way; the then, the now, the what would be. For me, who loved her, and the tall pole beans she grew out back, and the wild red rose in her front yard where the red oaks soared high […]
I don’t talk much. They say I should. They say it is rude. They say I am strange, not right like them. They say they get scared when I don’t speak. I do not say mean things. I do not say at all. But if you talk, they learn who you are. The sounds […]