The little girl waited. She waited in the casket where her mother had gently placed her before they were discovered. She couldn’t see anything from within and could hear very little, but dared not make a sound. She kept instinctively mum. She heard rapid footsteps approaching their caravan, some voices faintly saying, “There’s the witch, burn her alive.” She felt a stone bouncing off the casket and screaming accompanied by sounds of something being dragged. Much later a pungent smoky odor started filling the casket, but she still dared not move. Laboriously breathing she waited for her mother to come.

From Guest Contributor, Manjiree Marathe

“Have I met you before?”

‘Drat.’ He left. She got home safely.

From Guest Contributor, Joey Harlow.

Victoria had believed their house was haunted, until they moved and the weird stuff in the kitchen didn’t stop. Maybe it was her mom who was haunted.

Victoria wanted to keep the spoon, but her mother sold it. After that, Victoria went to go live with her father.

Daphne had always maintained a strict policy of never doing anything that she was ordered to do. When her mother told her she must always look both ways before crossing the street, she would immediately run headlong into traffic.

Very few people attended Daphne’s funeral.

The conversation was polite, she’s Canadian after all, but surface. Her interest seemed genuine when I mentioned I wanted to be a writer, the way a mother is interested in her five-year-old’s finger painting. I needed to flaunt my understanding, to let her know that I get it, and hated to think I was being patronized. She tolerated my high school English critiques with all the grace that you’d expect, but as the food dwindled, my desperation grew. I felt like I was missing my chance, that somehow if I won her approval, everything would be okay. I would matter.

Another submission to Every Day A Century, which will be posted soon.

The neighborhood still smoldered as much as the house’s charred remains. Hushed faces stared out from lawns, secretly cathartic. Firemen, and one woman, huddled in clusters, their whispers lingering like the smoke. Beside the black husk that used to be 4522 Westhaven Drive, memories were piled up like litter, tossed aside to make way for fire hoses.

Rebecca sat against the oak tree, numbed. The fire was probably her fault. Her mother had always warned her about those candles. But as she huddled against the dawn chill, all she could think about were the grass stains on her floral pajamas.

Raul’s father was reported lost at sea soon after his son was born. When he turned thirteen, Raul set out to sea himself, determined to bring his father home.

Raul finally returned home empty-handed and told his mother the bad news. Only then did his mother admit that his father was not Captain Joseph Blighy, the famous Sea Adventurer, but Old Joe, the homeless crack addict who roamed the neighborhood begging for handouts.

After a pupa has transformed into an adult moth, even a scientist has a difficult time connecting the new form with the old.

But nothing can be so shocking as the enantiodromia my mother undergoes after she discovers that I’ve forgotten to do my chores. Where once was a loving parent who’d literally give her life for mine, now there’s a raving lunatic intent on cutting short my existence.

Simon skipped home with a proud smile. He’d traded his family’s last gold piece for three magic beans. He was so looking forward to seeing his mother’s face.

The ruin extended beyond just the family. After the first heavy rain, the beans came alive and began eating all the villagers. Simon insisted the old witch had promised they were vegan beans, but no one had time to listen.

Black Bart rode into town on his black horse, his black hat hanging low over his eyes. He had traveled two weeks to Ingalls, and the legends seemed true, with more saloons than shops, and not a lawman in sight.

He was under strict orders from his mother. Bring home his brother, or die trying. Better to be shot here than disappoint his mother.

Genre: Western