Worthing Flash

Blue Remembrance on a Waikiki Beach   My third Blue Hawaiian was an azure pool in a glass, the colour of the shirt I buried you in, the sea glass on the bracelet you gave me on our honeymoon. Each sip, a memory. As the last ukulele notes faded, I drifted from the bar to the shore.   There, I wrestled jagged driftwood to my chest. The pyre would finally release you. I called your name as sapphire flames clawed towards the heavens. Then I unclasped the bracelet. The beads caught the firelight, a final constellation, before I let them fall dissolving into fire, into ash, into sky.   Mary Anne McEnery

Take a Break fiction magazine has given its writers their marching orders and now uses AI.   Short stories appearing in the title credited to the in-house team are 100% AI generated. You are not obliged to buy this publication which has replaced writers with machines.  George Orwell predicted this in 1984. Novels for the proles were produced by novel-writing machines. The only human involvement was to keep the machines oiled. AI has great potential but as long as Big Business has control of it, AI can only be used for their purposes. Writers for #worthingflash have rejected the use of AI to write stories. If you don't like writing stories you can always do something else!  Derek McMillan     

PERSEVERANCE My father was a clever-clogs. His degree Finals paper set three compulsory questions and one optional. Choosing the gyroscope question, his result was ridiculous; another method – same result, yet another – same again. Time was now up; he’d failed. When the results were posted, his name was top. He visited his professor to get the error corrected. You were the only student to tackle the gyroscope question. The professor said. But I didn’t solve it. Father responded. You did! Gyroscopes generate astonishing forces, as you demonstrated three different ways. Remarkable! He’d passed! Frances Aitken

UNPLANNED B by Gary L. Dozier      She lays in bed by the phone waiting for Nate's call.  He never calls. She takes a warm bubble bath with a glass of wine and candles waiting  for Nate's text.  He never texts.  She blows the candles out.  Drinks the  last swig of wine.  Exits the tub.  The doorbell rings.  She answers the  door dripping wet in her bath towel.  To her surprise it's Jonathan with a  bottle of wine and massage oil, ready to supply her demand.

I can recommend Everyday Fiction as a place to submit your work. They also pay you three Canadian dollars! https://everydayfiction.com/the-ira-gunman-by-derek-mcmillan/

Fisherman’s Shanty Fog swirled around Dorian’s feet as he walked the length of the pier, posts and boardwalk disappearing behind him as those ahead revealed themselves. Yellow up ahead—must be Robert. The older man sat on a bench, his yellow cap muted in the mists, his fishing pole dangling in the water. Blue smoke curled from the joint in his hands, the floral bright in the otherwise damp air. “ He’s gone,” Robert said, his face red and crumpled. Dorian rested a hand on Robert’s leg, staring out into the fog. “Tell me stories, then. Let him live just a bit longer.” Bio: K. Andrew Turner is a queer m/m writer with hEDS and AuDHD. He writes contemporary and speculative poetry and prose exploring connection, complexity, and what it means to be human. His work delves into self-reflection, mental illness, and the messy intricacies of relationships—from the mundane to the fantastical. His published work includes The Heretic and the Broken Man (Lazuli Press), Heart, Mind, Blood, ...