Short Story
LHS Class of 01 Reunion '16
The conversation in the next booth softened, the tension giving way to a tentative optimism as Peter and Megan began to sketch out possibilities for honoring Mrs. Wilkes in ways that transcended a single appearance. “What if we organize a small dinner in her honor a week before the reunion?” suggested Megan, her tone hopeful. “A private gathering for those who were closest to her, with some of the old yearbook photos and perhaps a slideshow of her career milestones.” Peter’s eyes lit up, and he replied, “We could invite her children, get them to speak about the person she is behind the professional façade.” This sparked a vivid image in Scott’s mind of a room filled with soft candlelight, the glow reflecting off polished silverware and the gentle hum of nostalgic music, creating a safe space where stories could be shared, tears whispered, and laughter rekindled—an intimate tribute that would complement the larger reunion festivities.
By Forest Green18 days ago in Fiction
LHS Class of 01 Reunion '16
With a shared glance, they knew that the challenge ahead was not merely logistical but emotional, and that their commitment to preserving Mrs. Wilkes’ legacy would become the quiet, steadfast thread binding the reunion’s narrative together.
By Forest Green18 days ago in Fiction
Cringe Benefits
For Paul and John's 47-Word Challenge: If I had just minded my own business and decided to stay out of the way and not put my two cents in and kept my big nose out of it and stayed in my own lane, I would probably not be too embarrassed to talk about...
By Kendall Defoe 18 days ago in Fiction
Bo Life: A tribute to Jabarie Bracey
Jabarie and Joe are cleaning up their stations as they prepare to clock out from their shift at Bojangles. “Yo Jo Jo can you give me a ride to crib when we get off? My moms got the car and she workin’ later today” Jabarie asked. “Ah boy” Joe sighed playfully. “First off, how far do you live and am I gettin some gas money for this?”
By Joe Patterson19 days ago in Fiction
The Innocent Ignorance of ‘44
Meredith poked around the living room for the last time, dusting and squaring her knick-knacks before she settled in her chair like a hen on a clutch of eggs. Bill, who was reading the Daily Tribune in his lounger, breathed a sigh of relief because she had found the house in order. Her constant nitpicking and rearranging annoyed him to no end. Images of her mother, who had done the same thing when he had come to court her, hurled themselves at his mind. From behind his paper he could hear her searching through her blonde wicker basket in front of her leather ottoman where she would soon prop her feet. Next would come the tic-tic-tic of her knitting needles and the muffled crunches of almonds.
By Anton Halifax19 days ago in Fiction
Black Onions
All her sisters hid from me, the Mandingo, and they veiled themselves in their green bivouacs, yet I knew the forbidden fruit of white flesh. She revealed herself to me, unclasped her flakey brown chemise, teased me with smooth pearly shoulders and I know I must push her away. What would Master do if he caught me in the garden with her naked, crying because I will never know who she really is? There are too many faces she has shown me and her pungent fakeness stings my eyes.
By Anton Halifax19 days ago in Fiction
LHS Class of 01 Reunion '16
The revelation set off a cascade of thoughts in Scott’s head, each one more frantic than the last, as he imagined the ripple effects on the reunion’s schedule, the speeches, and the sentimental tributes that had already been painstakingly outlined. “If Mrs. Wilkes isn’t there, who’s going to chair the ceremony?” he muttered, his voice barely audible over the soft hiss of the soda fountain. His concern was not merely logistical; it was rooted in the deep respect he held for the woman who had, for decades, served as the unofficial matriarch of their graduating class, her presence a comforting constant at every milestone. He recalled the way she would linger after meetings, offering warm, peppered advice, and he imagined the emptiness that would settle over the gathering if her chair sat unfilled. Marc, meanwhile, ran his thumb over the worn edge of his coffee mug, his thoughts spiraling into memories of Mrs. Wilkes’ uncanny ability to remember every student’s name, a skill that had made even the most reticent alumni feel seen.
By Forest Green19 days ago in Fiction
The Skull Washed Ashore
The Skull Washed Ashore The tide was slow that morning, dragging itself across the shore with a heavy sound that seemed to settle into the bones rather than pass through the ears, and the sky hung low in a dull grey weight that made the whole stretch of beach feel closed in, as though the world had narrowed to that one place and refused to open beyond it. I had walked there many times before, enough to know every shift in the sand and every curve of the shoreline, yet that day something felt wrong in a way that could not be easily named, something quiet and watchful that seemed to exist just beyond the edge of thought.
By George’s Girl 2026 19 days ago in Fiction
