Every writer has a few: those legendary lit mags we dream about when hitting “submit” on Submittable. The ones we read and reread when imposter syndrome sets in. The ones that feel just out of reach, but we can’t help but try anyway.
Tag Archives: Microfiction
#30Words30Days – April 2025
Geoffrey let his mind WANDER a little too far one foggy Tuesday afternoon, and after a brief dalliance with What If and Maybe One Day, it regrettably never came back.
#30Words30Days Part Two
The wind chases ripples in the fields of winter wheat, kissing wavelets in the creek that murmurs past the willow tree, singing bittersweet duets with the mourning dove to me.
#30Words30Days
Let some part of you remain a bit untamed. Roar into the forest what no other should hear. Bathe your scars beneath a warm spring rain. Run wild. Come home.
Better the Wolf You Don’t than the Devil You Know
“Are we in the forest, Mammy?” she said. “Why yes, we are, love.” “Aren’t there wolves in the forest?” she said. “None so fierce as the one we left behind, pet.” “Can I hold your hand, though, Mammy?” she said. “Of course you can, sweetie.” “Are we lost?” she said. “Not lost enough, my dear.”Continue reading “Better the Wolf You Don’t than the Devil You Know”
If I could give less than one star, I would.
I’m pretty sure this product is made with toxic materials because ever since I got it, I’ve been gradually feeling worse and worse. I’ve got lower back pain, my knees grind and pop, and acid reflux keeps me awake every night.
The End of #30Words30Days
The gulls screech and scold each other as our clan compiles, waiting for the worst. Barnacles against a rising tide, and what do we do when the rock is gone?
Yet More #30Words30Days
She’s got a hoar-frost vibe and a forced smile that feels like sleet driven horizontally by an east wind. You might be the guest, but she didn’t extend the invitation.
30 Words, 30 Days – Week 3
Can it be called support when, in fact, we’re just two eroded monoliths propping one another up by mere fluke of simultaneous collapse, our mutual decline serving an accidental stopgap?
30 Words, 30 Days
Perfection’s her identity, polished until she shines. No flaws, no misplaced hair. Benevolence. Gloss. Diligence. If ever she let the veil recede, fleetingly, oh—
The torrent would sweep her away.
Aly Writes 