Stories to Share

January 6, 2016October 21, 2016 / Sheila McIntrye Good, Author / 4 Comments

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We’ve read a lot this week about book reviews and the impact they have on the authors. But, what about all the stories we read? It’s worth remembering, all writers need feedback on their work, regardless of the number of words. With that in mind, here are this week’s Stories to Share.

First up, Spider Webs, by Eugenie Montague.

Second, Reading Their Only Son, by Rick Trushel.

And, last but not least, and Dollhead, by Vanessa Mártir.

Accepting submissions of fiction up to 1000 words, Smokelong has an excellent article this month on what they do and do not want to see in submissions. So, check out the guidelines, carefully.

Seeking fictional stories up to 8,000 words, you can find Submission guidelines for Menda City Review, here.

Fiction Southeast is looking for short fiction of 1500 words or less and offers two annual contests. Submissions are accepted for The Ernest Hemingway Flash Fiction Prize from June the 1st – December 1st. First Prize includes $200.00 and publication. In addition, the annual Fiction Southeast Editors’ Prize opens in December with a deadline of July 1st. Winner $100.00 and publication. You can find their general guidelines here.

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did, share them, and where possible, I encourage you to leave a comment for the author.

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I’d love to hear your comments. Talk to me. Tell me your story and look for me on Facebook at SheilaMGood, Pinterest, Bloglovin, Twitter@sheilagood, and Contently.

A Bad Memory

January 6, 2016October 21, 2016 / Sheila McIntrye Good, Author / 10 Comments

Julia’s latest prompt 100 WCGU’s:… this time next year…

Sarah snapped the latches on the old suitcase with its cracked and worn leather, swept the tears from her face with an angry brush of her hand, and stared at the remnants of her marriage. Hell would freeze over before she shed another tear.

The expensive décor seemed pretentious and empty, now. Sad she’d ever bought into his madness, Sarah lifted the suitcase from the bed and turned to leave. Today was the beginning of everything new and this time next year, he and this house would be but, a bad memory.

94 Words

I’d love to hear your comments. Talk to me. Tell me your story and look for me on Facebook at SheilaMGood, Pinterest, Bloglovin, Twitter@sheilagood, and Contently.

Who Will Speak For Them?

November 24, 2015October 21, 2016 / Sheila McIntrye Good, Author / 2 Comments

100WCGU – Week#175 …but shall we close the borders…

This week, Julia has given us a prompt that may provoke thought or even stir the caldron of controversy. I hope my story makes you think, especially about the victims. ~~~~~

“To forget the dead would be akin to killing them a second time.” Elie Wiesel

~~~~~~~

Jason reached for his wife. The bed was cold and empty. He hurried down the stairs, sniffing the air for the coffee Sarah would have waiting. No coffee? He shivered. “Honey?”

He stepped into the dark kitchen and reality grabbed him around the throat. Shaking, he sank into a chair. How could dinner turn into such terror?

He didn’t want to watch news coverage of the attacks, but he needed to.

His anger grew as he listened to the reporter defend and lecture … but, shall we close the borders?

Where was the outrage, compassion, and sympathy for the victims?

Who would speak for them?

“I will, Sarah,” he said, his anger turning to tears. “I will.”

Silence Written in Red

November 19, 2015October 21, 2016 / Sheila McIntrye Good, Author / 36 Comments

Photo Prompt (c) C.E. Ayr Friday Fictioneers Photo Prompt

Sam put the car in park with an irritated thrust. “Dammit Camille.” He took the front steps two at a time, stopping abruptly. The door stood ajar. “Camille?” He said, easing it open. She obsessed over locked doors. Silence. Fear slithered down his back.

He moved through the house, calling her name, looking in closets and under beds. Panic rose in his throat like sour food as he ran down the drive. “Camille?”

Then, he saw it and dropped to his knees. Her shoe. It lay on the street drain like a discarded, terrifying clue, written in red.

~~~~~

Want to participate in Friday Fictioneers? Write a 100-word story, Link your story URL, include Inlinkz and photo prompt on your page and as always, participate in comments to encourage contributors.

I’d love to hear your comments. Talk to me. Tell me your story. And as always, you can follow me on Facebook at SheilaMGood, Pinterest, Bloglovin, Twitter@sheilagood, and Contently.