The End, micro fiction written by NT Franklin at Spillwords.com

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The End

NT Franklin·June 26, 2019

English Literature

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The End

written by: NT Franklin

She heard the noise and saw the collision. She stood motionless for a split second before running to the scene. Even at the tender age of seven, she knew it was over. She held the lifeless body of her dog in her arms as she watched the car drive away.

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NT Franklin

NT Franklin writes cozy mystery short stories, nostalgia short stories, and Flash Fiction and has been published in Page & Spine, Scarlet Leaf Review, Fiction on the Web, Madswirl, Postcard Shorts, 404 Words, 101 Words, Freedom Fiction, Burrst, Entropy, Alsina Publishing, Fifty-word stories, Dime Show Review, among others.

Cindy Georgakas

Cindy Georgakas is a writer of words in poetry, prose and reflections of her heart. She was voted the Publication of the Month on Spillwords Oct. 2022. She is a co-author of #1 Amazon Bestseller, Wounds I Healed: The Poetry of Strong Women, and is also a monthly contributor to MastecadoresUsa. She was born in San Francisco, California and lives nestled in the trees in a small community about 40 minutes south of San Francisco with her husband. She is a life health coach, and massage and craniosacral therapist who draws inspiration from her daily interactions with clients, friends, her 4 children and nature. Her website is Uniquely Fit. She can also be found on Instagram #ahamoments. Cindy's book Re-create & Celebrate 7 Steps To Turning Your Dreams Into Reality will be released this month.

Brain in a Jar by Anthony Doyle

Take your gloves off, let’s see who you are, he said, chin out, shoulders rolling, pecs puffing, Take ’em off. Let’s see if you can take it raw—all fuel for the fire. I always was a strutting fool. I knew it was dumb, I knew it. Walk away, the only thing you gotta hit right now is the shower. I didn’t need this. I wore belts, I held titles. I was posing in posters on dirty walls and fire-doors, I was legit. Who was he? A street scuffler, a cage fighter. I knew it, and yet I took them off, I unwrapped the straps, I bit the leather and pulled them right off. The light is autumn steel today, bolted to the ceiling. In summer it was a yellow balm, a hot wet kiss. I knew it was dumb, and she keeps whistling that same song, Nurse Mercedes, the same catchy dance tune...

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