ganymeder (joined almost 14 years ago)
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Author Catherine Russell shares her life with her high school sweetheart, their son, and two ferocious puppies in the Wilds of Ohio while writing short stories, editing her novel, and learning more about the craft every day. Her work has been published in Flash Me magazine, Metro Fiction, Beyond Centauri, and the ‘Best of Friday Flash – Volume One‘ and the ‘Best of Friday Flash – Volume Two‘ anthologies.


"No, absolutely not!" Mama Tiger told her cub.

"But Moooooom! All the other cubs get to bring down a gazelle at my age!"

"I don't care what all the other cubs do. I'm not their mother; I'm yours. And the answer is no."

Timothy Tiger wandered off to sulk with his siblings, who were fighting over a piece of dark meat. Watching his brothers fight over a leg, he mumbled, "I bet your mother wasn't overprotective like mine."

He stopped and pondered this a moment. "Oh," he said in sudden realization, shrugged his shoulders and grabbed a leg bone from...

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The only sound that broke the stillness was the sound of the horses' hooves as they struck the ground. Garth took off his hat and waved it in front of his face.

"How can you see like that?" asked Becky, motioning to the endlessly flat landscape before them. Sand reflected the unending glare of the sun.

"I read somewhere that you lose more body heat through your head than anywhere else," said Garth, fanning himself with the straw monstrosity.

"So you're choosing to be cool over being able to see?" Becky shielded her own eyes from the light.

"Buck here...

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One foot in front of the other. He had to keep going. There was no turning back.

They almost caught up with him several times. In the woods he'd tripped over a branch, sprawled, and felt their hot breath on his back just before he kicked off and escaped. Now he was in the clear, wide open spaces of the school's football field. No obstructions in his path. No cover or refuge in sight.

On foot in front of the other. If he could just keep running for another mile or so, he could make it to the church where...

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Karrie had never worn white in her life. Not the day of her first communion, not even when she'd dressed as a ghost that one Halloween, but yet here she was...

What the hell had she been thinking getting involved with Ken? Really, Ken- like the doll. He wasn't her type at all. He loved tradition and tuxedos and classic rock, while she adored zombies and punk. And him, of course. What had she been thinking?

From the moment she met him, everything about him irritated her. His pigheadedness, his obnoxious sense of humor, his conservative dress. He could be...

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Rupert sat gazing at the majestic mountains, but the only thought in his mind was, "Why did I have to have so many girls?" He was surrounded by femininity, enveloped, cocooned, suffocated. The son he'd longed for had never materialized, and the only other male companionship to be had in his own house was the manservant. Conversations with the help of more than a perfunctory nature were obviously out of the question.

So the women swarmed around him, but at least here he wasn't shrouded in lace and rose colored silk - though he'd need to speak to his...

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The ticking of the clock invigorated her. Every click pounded in her brain, every hourly chime let her know that she was that much closer to her release. Life, there's the rub... She would never know the calamity of a long life, and for that she was grateful. While others were doomed to grow old, lose their loved ones, die alone - she gave her life freely - knowing that her sacrifice would please their overlords, bringing peace to her village.

She said her farewells to a swelling sea of tear streaked faces, but her own was shining, brilliant. As...

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