The First Spring | Melody E. McIntyre

The icy planet floated in darkness. The star that had trapped it in its orbit was but a distant sparkle. Other than occasional glimpses of the others in orbit, the planet was alone.

But not completely alone. Something stirred within, waiting for a chance. That moment came when a meteor collided with the planet and sent it hurtling closer to the sun, into a warmer orbit.

The planet welcomed its new home. It could see the other planets and feel the sun’s warmth. As its ice thawed, the life within could now break through the surface and embrace the light.


Melody lives in Ontario and has loved reading and writing her entire life. Her favourite genres to write are horror and mystery. She has published several short pieces of fiction. She studied Classics in University and remains obsessed with the ancient world to this day.

Twitter: @evamarie41

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MelodyEMcIntyre

Whispers and Echoes Poetry and Flash Fiction Index | February 2021

February saw a wonderful mix of new and regular contributors to Whispers and Echoes, as well as an almost equal balance between flash fiction and poetry submissions which were sent our way, all of which was lovely to see.

We announced at the end of February that the journal is currently closed to all submissions. The reason for this is we’ve had a flurry submissions sent our way and so our posting schedule for March 2021 is already full.  Closing to submissions allows us to get caught up with what’s in our inbox, and then once we’ve done that we shall be going on a short break.  However, we don’t anticipate being closed to submissions for long.  For more information regarding this closure, please check out this post.

You can always check out our submissions guidelines by visiting the SUBMIT page, in readiness for when we open to submissions again.

To see what we shared – or what you missed – in February, check out the links below.  Enjoy!

Poetry

Flash Fiction

Kudzu | Bartholomew Barker

Sleeping kudzu drags early spring trees
down with slender gray fingers
revealing forest to the road

I drive past while my memories sleep
through winter and see her vast potential
a dormant landscape to be explored

But by summer I’ll only see a wall of green
and forget the depth of her— hidden
behind overgrown frowns and shrugs

Let me forget the past so I can remember the future


Bartholomew Barker is an organizer of Living Poetry, a collection of poetry lovers in North Carolina. Born and raised in Ohio, studied in Chicago, he worked in Connecticut for nearly twenty years before moving to Hillsborough where he makes money as a computer programmer to fund his poetry habit.

www.bartbarkerpoet.com

Spring is in me | Yuu Ikeda

Rhythm of spring

unravels my sorrow

and wraps me calmly,

as if velvety rain

fills my blood vessels

with its silence

 

I’m in spring

Spring is in me


Yuu Ikeda is a Japan based poet.
She writes poetry on her website.
Her published poems are
“Sinful Silhouette” in <Rigorous>,
“Broken Pieces of the Truth” in <Briefly Zine>,
“A Flickering Light” in <Kalonopia>,
and more.

Little Plum Trees Dancing | McKenzie Richardson

Snow speckled the mountaintop, but here and there sprout signs of growth. In the glow of the moonlight, the plum trees bloomed, their petals the palest of pinks.

Rafu-Sen stood among the blossoms; her face fierce as she prepared for the coming of spring. Many equate flowers with delicateness, but there is a resilience one so lovely must possess if there’s any hope of survival in a world so cold.

White gown rustling in the fragrant breeze, Rafu-Sen set out down the mountain.

The plum blossom does not fear the cold, it blooms despite the snow. For spring always comes.


McKenzie Richardson lives in Milwaukee, WI. Most recently, her stories have been published in anthologies from Eerie River Publishing, Black Hare Press, and Iron Faerie Publishing.

When not writing, she can usually be found in her book hoard, reading or just looking at her shelves longingly.

Facebook: www.facebook.com/mckenzielrichardson/

Blog: www.craft-cycle.com

A John by Any Other Name | Michael Murdoch

“My dear boy; Jonathan, is it? Might I perchance trouble you with a common request.

You see, I am in dire need of a moments privy in the House of Office, so to speak. A little direction, if you would be so kind.”

“What?”

“Is there any possibility that I may venture by way of the vin. Or perhaps, given the appearance of your colourful clientele, asking the location of the Khazi would be a more colloquially accurate question.”

“What?”

Any Johns or Jacks, here or thereabouts?

“Who?”

“Where’s the crapper?”


Born beneath the Southern Cross, Michael Murdoch a.k.a. the mouse, is a poet and fiction writer, who chased love to his new home under the Northern Lights.
He resides in Helsinki with his wife and three children.
You can find a selection of his works at The Twisting Tail.  https://murdochmouse.wordpress.com/

Sense of Spring | Yuu Ikeda

A blanket of the sun

runs around in me,

like a glass of whiskey does

 

Transitory warmth

makes me insensible

 

Hovering wind

turns pages of winter

 

Then,

I’m led to spring


Yuu Ikeda is a Japan based poet.
She writes poetry on her website.
Her published poems are
“Sinful Silhouette” in <Rigorous>,
“Broken Pieces of the Truth” in <Briefly Zine>,
“A Flickering Light” in <Kalonopia>,
and more.

 

Seeing the Future Unfold as the Dryer Spins | Michael Murdoch

I stand in front of my dryer, watching the dial slowly wind. The squeaking joints sound like frenzied birds in search of release.

There is life left in the old girl, but you can hear the end is near.

The time will come, wasted and worn, where man and machine will find a final resting place on the scrap heap.

If those apocalyptic films are anything to go by, one will be the cause of the other.


Born beneath the Southern Cross, Michael Murdoch a.k.a. the mouse, is a poet and fiction writer, who chased love to his new home under the Northern Lights.
He resides in Helsinki with his wife and three children.
You can find a selection of his works at The Twisting Tail.  https://murdochmouse.wordpress.com/

Moon Song | Frank Hubeny

They sat outside our dorm singing the Moon Song. It was his favorite. Even she knew it. He sang, “Yadda yadda goo goo.” She followed, “Doodoo doodoo wah wah.”

This would go on and on.

I imagine them singing the Moon Song for decades even after a long, hard day of fighting and making up. When they grew too old to vocalize, I imagine them singing it to each other in their hearts.

Indeed, I hope so.

But we didn’t have air conditioning. My window was open. This was exam week. And that’s my lame excuse for shouting, “Shut up!”.


Frank Hubeny spends his time between Miami Beach and Northbrook, Illinois.  He has appeared in The Lyric, Snakeskin and Ancient Paths Literary Magazine.  He regularly posts poetry, short fiction and photography to https://frankhubeny.blog.