Stutterers, by Carrie Cooperider

(F.F.F. Website Story)

People wouldn’t quit cutting ahead of me in the line for sleep, so I left, turning my back on the smug curvature of earth spooned into the night. A lunar-shaped cusp had tracked its cramped orbit around my wrist by the time my watch finally crash-landed on your bedside table. You struggled for words, slapping your thigh to spur your panicked tongue to form the requisite sounds. You managed “I”, and could have done “you”, but I knew you’d never get the “L” word in between, so I said it for both of us: I luh-luh-luh- lie to you, too.

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That’s Me, by Johann Lux

(F.F.F. Website Story)

That soothing voice at the back of my mind, telling me I should embrace the cold, only reaffirmed my suspicion that wolves are telepathic.

Jack’s hands were frozen to his rifle. Luckily, I got to him before the scavengers and because the earth is too frozen to dig, I set his body on fire.

The pack surrounds me. I count three rounds left for my rifle and one for my pistol.

Temporarily transfixed by a beautiful woman standing near a snow bank, I rejoiced in knowing this was the end.

We walked together; she smiled and called me by name.

The Commandments, by Barney MacFarlane

(F.F.F. Website Story)

The most interesting thing about Feargus O’Hanlon was his pathology: he possessed an unflinching willingness to obey a command.

He married Esther, not because he loved her but because his mother said he should.

“She’s from good stock,” said mother. “Sure, she’ll bear ye healthy children.”

They married in their home town of Wexford but his wife liked to go to the capital occasionally for the culture that was in it.

A few weeks later, riding on the DART train in Dublin, their carriage stopped alongside a station sign named KILLESTER.

So he did.

Feargus was also a lousy speller.

Forever Running, by Fliss Zakaszewska

(F.F.F. Website Story)

He was behind me; I knew he was. I gritted my teeth and ran faster, feet pounding the hard, black surface.

I’d been running since forever. I glanced at my watch. OK, a slight exaggeration. I’d been running for two hours fifty-nine minutes and thirty-nine seconds. I was nearly there…

Heart thumping, I ran faster, but I could still see his reflection.

Suddenly he stepped forward and stood in front of me.

“Well done. I think you’re set to run the London marathon in just under three hours.” My coach grinned as he put the treadmill into cool-down mode.

Such A Deal, by Ann-Louise Truschel

Allow me to introduce you to the appliance of a lifetime!

No thanks.

Just let me show you how this little gem works!

Thank you, no.

This handy dandy device will chop, slice, shred, and grate anything and everything.

No, thank you! I don’t want it.

But let me give you a demonstration!

I don’t want a demonstration. I’m really not interested.

That’s what everybody says until they see this little gizmo in action. Look at this … and this … and this.

No, no, and no! I won’t buy it under any circumstances!

Seriously?

Seriously!

But wait! There’s more!

Topic of the Day, by Russell Conover

Stan was trying to find a topic to write about for his college paper, but he had nothing. Hours of brainstorming ideas had amounted to zilch, so he turned to more personal topics.

He thought about the time he’d woken up from a rest to find that monkeys playing tambourines had surrounded him, and requested that he accompany them in Monkey Music Land. Stan had rubbed his eyes, sure he was still dreaming, but the primates were still there. “What the heck,” he’d thought, and gone to join them.

“Nah. I’m looking for FICTION,” Stan lamented. “On to Plan B.”

SuperMoon, by Gordon Lawrie

“Is that it over there?” Hilda asked Walter.

“Well, I think it has to be,” he replied. “Damn cloud cover. First the Total Eclipse, now the SuperMoon. And we missed seven sightings of the Aurora Borealis and two meteor showers this year for the same reason.”

They were sitting in the park, drinking from a flask of coffee.

“What a climate,” Hilda muttered. “We’ve really messed it up. I blame Global Warming.”

“Probably.”

They pored over their iPhone calendars.

“Says here there’s another SuperMoon in 2034!” said Walter.

“Oh that’s great. I’ll still only be 92.”

“Might need fresh coffee.”