Nailpolish Stories

Two pieces by Luce Allen

On Thin Ice

I skate on a frozen lake, slipping as frosted claws lunge fro below. My scream drowns in slush as the saltwater sirens bare her teeth.

Glow with Me

My video camera’s night vision captures eyes like lit pools of absinthe amidst olive shadows. I came here alone, but that’s not how I’ll die.

Luce Allan is a horror enthusiast (and creepy doll in human form). Aside from her penchant for horror short stories and poetry, she also recently served as one third of the costume department for The Trouble with Tessa, Screambox’s first original TV series.

Night Shadows by Colleen Addison

The torturer had to work late. How to assuage the fears? He cut off the arms first, standing them upright. A bulwark against the monsters.

Colleen Addison did a PhD in health information; she then promptly got sick herself. She now lives, writes, and heals on a small island off the coast of Vancouver, Canada.

Bang On! By Liz Mayers

We’ve reached an agreement, me and the tenant upstairs. Evenings, from seven to eight only, I play drums and she stepdances.

We both feel better.

Liz writes from Western Massachusetts. Her work has appeared on the NoSleepPodcast, in Flash Fiction Magazine, Blink-Ink, The Drabble, 50-Word Stories, On the Premises, and elsewhere. Find her at LizMayers.com

Four pieces by Dan Sicoli

I’m Wired

Like a time bomb implanted

deep within her skull, she was pre-set.

Though boyfriends came and went,

the ticking drowned thoughts

as everything slowly grayed.

15 minutes of flame

when her entrance failed to

stir them she morphed

into a firefly

levitating overhead

leaving the crowd in the fleeting

wake of her sparking diamond.

Color of the Zen-tury

He desired what the camera coveted.

Flesh, seduction, and distraction eclipsed

weak wills under siege. He had forgotten

what truly mattered to purge the eyes.

Give Me the Moon

With a sky full of itself

there was little room for introduction.

Like an overwrought alkie

she felt bloated, alone.

Half moon was never enough.

Dan Sicoli, an editor with Slipstream, has a new collection, Slag Alley, out from Ethel Zine Press. A three-time Pushcart nominee, he’s placed poems with Big Windows Review, dadakuku, Hobo Camp Review, Home Planet News, Hood of Bone, Steam Ticket, and Santa Barbara Literary Journal, among many others.

License & Registration Pls by Maria Odessky Rosin

“60 miles in a 25 mile zone, lady.”

“I’m so sorry, officer. Buddy just wanted to feel the wind on his face one last time.

Maria’s poems, short stories, and essays have appeared in newspapers and magazines, including the Beyond Words Anthology. She has received writing awards, including the L. Ron Hubbard Writers of the Future Contest and the 24-Hour Writing Contest, along with a competitive mentorship in the Gordon Square Review.

Chasing Cocoa by Dawn McCormack

Batting the doorstop down the hallway, fierce tabby huntress finally captures it, grasps it in her sharp teeth, then drowns it in her water bowl.

Dawn is a retired teacher who loves writing poetry and short stories. Her poetry has appeared in The Avocet, Illumen, Exit 13, Poetry Quarterly, WestWard Quarterly, FrostFire Worlds, The Lyric, The Deronda Review, and SageWoman. She has also had two short stories published. Dawn spends as much time as possible outdoors and also loves reading and playing piano.

Always Morphing by Tricia Lloyd Waller

Always morphing she never knew what to expect next Merman, Ogre, Troll or Alien? But she never dreamt that it might be a slithering serpent!

Tricia Lloyd Waller has always loved story since she first learnt to speak. She especially loves dark fairy tales the grislier the better!

Jewels and Jacquard only by Olivia Gash

i still give a penny,

though you prove thoughtless

rusted, but it was my last

now i wish at the fountain

and nobody hears me

Olivia Gash would also like to offer a penny for your thoughts, but unfortunately she’s saving them for the wishing well.

Two pieces by Suzanne Cottrell

Patch it Up

Kitchen gathering place,

usually dishes clatter, people chatter,

but this morning only bacon hisses and spits

like last night’s words that still sting and burn.

Cut it Out

While others clear-cut timber

for financial need or greed,

We grimace at the sight.

Wounded soldiers litter acres.

We choose to protect our wildlife habitat.

Suzanne Cottrell is still enjoying life’s roller coaster ride. Her prose has appeared in numerous journals and anthologies, including Nailpolish Stories, Personal Story Publishing Projects, Quillkeepers Press, and The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature. Her latest book is Nature Calls Outside My Window, A Collection of Poems and Stories (Kelsay Books). An outdoor enthusiast and retired teacher, she lives with her husband in central rural North Carolina. You can read more about her writing journey at http://www.suzanneswords.com.

Sudden Black by Philip Davison

‘Now that you have removed the cover you will see two wires. A blue wire and a red wire. Snip the blue wire.’ 

‘Snipping the

Philip Davison lives in Dublin. Among his published novels are McKenzie’s Friend (Cape) The Long Suit (Cape) and Quiet City (Liberties). He writes radio drama. He co-wrote Learning Gravity, a BBC Storyville documentary on poet and undertaker, Thomas Lynch. His stories have appeared in various journals.

Best of 2024 stories were selected based on the following criteria:

-unique use of language

-breadth of story in so few words

-emotional impact

-complex and original relationship of titles to their stories

Congratulations to the writers whose work was selected for this special issue. And thank you to every reader, submitter and contributor of 2024. Nailpolish Stories, a Tiny and Colorful Literary Journal wishes you an abundance of good health and a most happy 2025.

from January:

Dark Matter

Through the orbiter windows I saw what I’d given up. Time. My own space. But there was no turning back. We’d already left the atmosphere.

Gretchen Clark is a desert dweller who enjoys taking photographs of wild horses and burros. Her work has been published in Literary Mama, Hippocampus, The MacGuffin, and New York Family Magazine, among others.

from April:

Big Apple Red by Chris Bullard

Love bobs above me like a feathered lure. I set my lips to the hook. Thrashing, I’m taken up bodily into a breathless new world.

Chris Bullard, meh, don’t ask.

From July:

Not Like The Movies by Kayla Lang

Another day, another fallen supervillain. A good day’s work.  

“What’s his story? Misunderstood genius billionaire? Botched scientific experiment?”

“Dunno, shot him before he could say.”

Kayla Lang is a small town Malaysian displaced in London.

from October:

Fearless by Mary Clements Fisher

Footsteps echo from pillar to pillar in the parking lot. Keys pierce my palm. The woman, her briefcase swinging, passes this fellow traveler and nods.

Mary Clements Fisher celebrates her student and writer status in Northern California. Her writing unearths buried mad, muddled, and magical moments.  She’s published in Quail Belle Magazine, Adanna Journal, Prometheus Dreaming Journal, The Closed Eye Open, Capsule Stories, They Call Us Magazine, and in several Personal Story Publishing Project books. Join her @maryfisherwrites and https://maryfisherwrites.squarespace.com/

Four pieces by Suzanne Cottrell

Going Incognito 

Amelia, dressed as a bag of type A blood, attended the party. When the Joker approached, she winked at her girlfriend. “He’s not my type.”

Wicked

She looked in the mirror. “Who’s the fairest of them all? Ursula, Queen Grimhilde, Maleficent, Elphaba.” She smirked when the mirror reflected a green glow.

E-nuf is E-nuf

Trick or treaters, toting bags filled with candy, beg to stop at one more house. Greeted by Beetle Juice offering grubs, they run away screaming.

That’s Hula-rious!

Lynn assembled the weighted Hula Hoop, stepped in, held it waist high, and wiggled her hips. One revolution, sections flew apart. She gasped then laughed.

Suzanne Cottrell is still enjoying life’s roller coaster ride. Her prose has appeared in numerous journals and anthologies, including Nailpolish Stories, Personal Story Publishing Projects, Quillkeepers Press, and The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature. Her latest book is Nature Calls Outside My Window, A Collection of Poems and Stories (Kelsay Books). An outdoor enthusiast and retired teacher, she lives with her husband in central rural North Carolina. You can read more about her writing journey at http://www.suzanneswords.com.

Three pieces by Mary Clements Fisher

Fearless

Footsteps echo from pillar to pillar in the parking lot. Keys pierce my palm. The woman, her briefcase swinging, passes this fellow traveler and nods.

2 of a Kind

The state fair barker teases, “You two twins?” “Nope, sweethearts.” He didn’t notice your hand in mine and the kiss you snuck on my neck.

All on Red

My ruby lipstick matches my sweater and pumps. Beyond blushing, my blood bubbles and boils. This all-American woman seethes when he sneers and spits, “Bitch.”

Mary Clements Fisher celebrates her student and writer status in Northern California. Her writing unearths buried mad, muddled, and magical moments.  She’s published in Quail Belle Magazine, Adanna Journal, Prometheus Dreaming Journal, The Closed Eye Open, Capsule Stories, They Call Us Magazine, and in several Personal Story Publishing Project books. Join her @maryfisherwrites and https://maryfisherwrites.squarespace.com/

Rabbit Hole by Mastura Rahman

1.The ghastly white light; 2. A ping piercing the vacuum . Hmmm, these days weather forecasts can pull someone out of the decrepit void of musings.

Mastura Rahman is just a writer discovering the magic of words. 

Two pieces by Kim Mannix

Marshmallow

In the firelight she watched him. A sticky string swayed from his mustache as he talked. A year ago, she would have kissed it away.

Deep End

The goodbye was like plummeting from a diving board. How your feet touch the bottom before you rise and surface. Then you can breathe again.

Kim Mannix lives and writes on Treaty Six territory in Alberta, Canada. She has two kids and three cats and doesn’t clean her house as often as those facts should necessitate. 

Cougar Attack by Rachel Burroughs

“A cougar’s got me,” I shout through the phone. “Go get ‘em, stud,” is the whooped response as the big cat crunches through my arm.

Rachel Burroughs (she/her) is a writer and editor living in Cincinnati, Ohio. She is an aspiring author currently working on several nerdy, queer novels. Thus far, her work has appeared in 50-Word Stories, Wilderness House, Short Vine, and Tidelines zine. Connect with her on social media @rachelb_writes.

Two pieces by Clarissa McFairy

Tiger Blossom

“Tigers never change their stripes,” she snarled, slamming the door.  He flung her flowers over the balcony. She slept that night in his striped pajamas.

Sweater Weather

She was forever knitting. It ran in her French revolutionary family. One night, she dropped a stitch. Next day, she dropped him. Granny’s ghost smiled.

Clarissa McFairy, aka Clare van der Gaast, is a journalist/columnist, living in Cape Town, South Africa where she writes short stories and poetry for anthologies, at home and abroad. Her poem, La Mia Musa was a vox poetica 2012 Best of the Net nominee. Her newly published poetry and prose book, My Heart is full of Emeralds is available at Amazon.com and online bookshops. Same for her first  poetry book, Strange Bedfellows. She writes as the muse grabs her and whirls her around the dance floor of life.

Onyx Splinters by Phil Powrie

We walked along the shoreline, our angry bodies sea-coal, our words diamonds cutting thinly through the wind, our kohl black eyes fizzling like onyx splinters.

Phil Powrie wears several layers of transparent nailpolish.

Four pieces by Cheryl Snell

Buttafly

My first flight, the thrilled old woman tells the attendant, shaking the ticket with her frequent flyer number printed on it in her manicured hand.

Snatched Silver

She rode her wheelchair like a carnival ride. I’m flying again. It’s the same, only different she said to the nice lady who hugged her.

Verified

When asked why she allowed that intimacy, she explained, they looked familiar. The nice lady reminded her of her daughter, what was her name again?
 
Best Day Ever

Do you own this house? The whole thing?  Yes. A place for everything and everything in its place. Where does a mother-in-law go, he wonders.

Cheryl Snell’s books include several poetry collections and the novels of Bombay Trilogy. Her most recent writing appeared in MacQueen’s Quinterly, Book of Matches, and 100 Word Story,

Two pieces by Allen Ashley

Chin Up Buttercup

Couldn’t afford gas station flowers or even a solitary rose from the hobo by the junction. Wild blooms, with much love. I picked them myself.

(Chin Up Buttercup is a nail varnish by Rimmel of London.)

Flaunt It In Fitzrovia

City drought. Rationing and water restrictions. Trust me, I know the old magic. I fill up the bucket, illegally wash the family car. Downpours follow.

Allen Ashley is an award-winning writer, editor and tutor based in north London, UK. His most recent book is the SF chapbook “Journey to the Centre of the Onion” (Eibonvale Press, UK, 2023). Allen featured in Nailpolish Stories, January 2024.

Not Like The Movies by Kayla Lang

Another day, another fallen supervillain. A good day’s work.  

“What’s his story? Misunderstood genius billionaire? Botched scientific experiment?”

“Dunno, shot him before he could say.”

Kayla Lang is a small town Malaysian displaced in London.

Blue Mist by Eleanor Young

So far away, no way to hug. No touch by phone. Lucky those who lived before dissemination, fragmented connections. Counting years left to see you.

Eleanor Young is a mother missing her children.

Four pieces by Chris Bullard

Exposed

Summer, I leave it out. In winter I bring it in. Sometimes, I see life budding on the branches. Soon, things are back to normal.

 Desir Le Vernis

“Passing through,” we said.

And they? “We have our roots here.”

“Must be nice,” we said.

“No place better,” they replied.

They stayed. We fled.

Now or Never

Lanes shut, mid-town closed, whole blocks under construction. Our Irish aunt, asked what she thinks of the burg, says, “Grand, it’ll be, when it’s finished.”

Big Apple Red

Love bobs above me like a feathered lure. I set my lips to the hook. Thrashing, I’m taken up bodily into a breathless new world.

Chris Bullard, meh, don’t ask.

Ten pieces by Len Kuntz

Glitter

The stripper’s name was Glitter. She resembled a neighbor girl I once knew, but naked. My Best Man walked away, said, “All bets are off.”

Champagne

The flute stood like a broken scarecrow, shards atop the tablecloth.  My Best Man made a toast, not a soul noticing my bloody palm.

Emerald

Our first night as newlyweds. While she snored, I counted sheep that died in mid-air. In the morning, we made fierce love, ceiling pounding.

Apricot

We were new. She had questions about our future. Honeymoon? Kids? I started to speak, but a pit in my throat blocked any answer.

Complexion

A week in, the ceiling caved. The ground shifted. A fire started down the hall. We were married and there was no going back.

Antique

While she snored, I stared at my grandmother’s ring on her finger. Even with mere moonglow seeping in, I could see we were ancient.

Maroon

We slept separate. The walls hummed or chanted. When I awoke, she was gone, to her lover’s place, so I made coffee, piping hot.

Purple

The bruise resembled Haiti, enflamed already on my cheek. When I asked about the guy, she threw a plate and it hit its mark.

Bronze

She tanned naked backyard. Didn’t care about the boys next door. The dog swirled around sniffing, almost outraged, and so I did the same.

Aubergine

We signed papers without malice. The lawyers looked glad. On the way out, I kissed her, her biting my lip like it was ham.

Six pieces by Tricia Lloyd Waller

Mimosas for Mr. and Mrs.

‘NO’ she shrieked tipping over the Crystal goblet; rich red wine spreading like forest wildfire across the starched snow-white tablecloth.
‘Mimosas were HER favorite flowers!’

Teal the Cows Come Home

Oh, baby teal stop going on so. Be more mallard!
Swimming is what we do every single day. Of course you’re not afraid of water!

I Have a Herring Problem

Smoked, kippered, brined, pickled even dried. I just adore a small-headed, streamlined, silvery, iridescent herring and so dearest reader I asked him to marry me.

Boys be Thistle-ing at Me

Oh, Mother why be boys thistle-ing at me when other maidens be given red roses?
Someday your Princess will come I promise (tongue in cheek)

Now Museum Now You Don’t

This is ridiculous! I was only here last month to view Galina brasses; So where is it now?
How can you lose a Victorian museum?

Shattered Souls

‘Your golden yellow sunflowers are magnificent!’
The sweet becardiganed gardener replies
‘All in the compost.’ as she attempts to hide the jar marked ‘Shattered Souls’

Tricia Lloyd Waller prefers fairy tale to reality and the patterns you can spin by rearranging words. She has recently had work accepted by The World of Myth and Ukiyo Literary Magazine.

Bubble Bath by L. J. Caporusso

The old woman shivered in a tub of dirty water, remembering how they used to drink red wine in a hot bubble bath before bed.

L. J. Caporusso lives in Toronto. Her writing has appeared in Blink-Ink, Molecule, Friday Flash Fiction, Little Old Lady Comedy and 50 Words Give or Take. Visit her at www.ljcaporusso.com .