* * * Managing Editor: Edward Ahern * * *
* * * Submissions Editor: P.C. Keeler * * *
* * * Submissions Editor: P.M. Ray * * *
* * * Associate Editor: Alison McBain * * *
* * * Submissions Editor: P.C. Keeler * * *
* * * Submissions Editor: P.M. Ray * * *
* * * Associate Editor: Alison McBain * * *
Prologue Issue
December 13, 2020
Want to know what Scribes*MICRO*Fiction is looking for?
Here are stories, creative nonfiction, and poetry from our editors.
Fiction
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Terminus
by Edward Ahern One drunken night, I caught the last train out of Grand Central and passed out. When I came to, I was sprawled in a dark, empty rail car. I looked through a window, and in the dim train yard lights, saw hundreds of other cars marshalled for their morning runs. And something else.
People were scurrying into and out of the cars. No, not people exactly, emaciated beings, rag-dressed, hopping into and out of the cars, and looking--for what? What could they find before the cleaning crews arrived? Scraps? Lost belongings? And then my train door opened. 
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Tourists in Hell
by Alison McBain “This is the first circle of hell.”
“What?” asked George, poking at his hearing aid. “The first circle!” his wife shouted. “Not bad,” he said, taking out his camera. “No photos,” reminded the guide. “Be careful. The next level is lust. It’s windy.” “What?” “Lust!” Dolores screamed. Her skin pinkened as everyone on the tour stopped to look at her. “Sorry.” “No worries,” said the guide. “Right this way. Eight levels to go.” “You wanted the bargain tour,” complained Dolores, but her husband didn’t hear. “At least we won’t be here forever.” Their guide grinned. “Don’t be so sure of that.” |
Creative Nonfiction
Many More
by P.M. Ray
by P.M. Ray
After the Sandy Hook shooting, they closed the school. The neighboring town volunteered an empty school for the kids to use. It had nothing. The news went viral. People from all over the world hand-made decorations under programs such as 'Snowflakes for Sandy Hook.'
Newtown was overwhelmed. With more decorations than could possibly be used, the families were invited to take them home.
Every year near the anniversary, survivors remember the terror caused by one person. Some of them also remember the kindness and generosity from many more people all over the world. Their gifts of the holiday season are still being used many years afterwards.
Newtown was overwhelmed. With more decorations than could possibly be used, the families were invited to take them home.
Every year near the anniversary, survivors remember the terror caused by one person. Some of them also remember the kindness and generosity from many more people all over the world. Their gifts of the holiday season are still being used many years afterwards.
Poetry
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French Cuffed
by Edward Ahern When I first went corporate
Executives wore dress shirts With French cuffs and gold links. So for protective coloration I scrounged the Lower East Side For remainders from Madison Avenue. The quality of the shirts Improved with my credit rating And in time my closet held A half-month of French cuffs. Eventually, with retirement, The need for dressing up Left with my commute. Weddings, funerals and church services Don’t satisfy this need for ostentation, And I find myself gold-cuffed At televised operas and poetry readings. I am addicted to my camouflage. 
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Confused
by Alison McBain Poor thing,
teetering on the knife edge of definition. Neither fruit nor vegetable, representing a squabble between dietitians and botanical intellectuals, sliced and diced into opposing terminologies. Oh, my random, red darling, born of a deadly family but so innocent yourself-- believe me, I am on your side. I will comfort you as you tremble on the vine, caress your fragile skin-- (zzzick, zzzack, sharpen the blade). And you, my darling-- I know your fate wedged between slices of golden toast, accompanied to your destination with crisp-fried slabs of pork and salt, nestled on an emerald bed. You are delicious, the one conclusion confirmed-- no argument there. |