Best of Write from Wrong: Fiction

We at Write from Wrong guarantee that you’ll want to revisit and reread these three fictional stories. “Brown Derby“, “Special Instructions For My Burial“, and “Extraction” are stories that transport you from reality into the wonderful world of make believe. We would like to thank MD, Jerry, and Patrick for the stories below. We hope you enjoy these as much as we did.

“Nothing is better than a good story well told. The question is, what constitutes a good story, and how can you be sure you tell it just right? These answers are subjective (to an extent) but I believe that all good stories should have a protagonist who ends up in a different place from where he begins; a plot with a beginning, climax, and resolution; and honesty–truths woven into the fabric of the story. – Hayley Battaglia, Fiction Editor

“This was a bit more difficult for me as I am more drawn to nonfiction short pieces, so these stories truly made an impact on me. I am always fascinated when a writer can develop characters in such a short span of time. I liked how these were each snapshots of a fictional life, that felt real.”- Courtney McNamara, SA Editor

“A thread of an idea and structure ties the works in this collection together, as each one offers a creative framework and unique execution.”- Paulina Stachnik, Photography & Arts Editor

“Brown Derby” (Fun Fiction Issue 11) – MD Poole
“Special Instructions For My Burial” (Imagination is Forever Issue 1) – Jerry Fagerberg
“Extraction” (Flashy Fiction Issue 4) – Patrick Kelling

[Sunday morning in New Orleans, the old women go to church, hobbling and bobbing their hats and feathers. The bus drives to and from sanctuaries, daring to visit the places that tourists don’t care to look. The buses are cheap. The young driver grumbles, “Only bus drivers don’t get Sunday off.” He puffs to no one about how the city couldn’t get along without buses, not like the trolleys that only go up past the school and back. He pauses at a corner, waiting for the old lady with the net hat while she waddles to the door, handing her transfer ticket with a “Bless you, son.”] – “Brown Derby” by MD Poole

[In the last days of my life, I’ve noticed a certain mercurial, unappetizing quality of death. I am not afraid of my own death – that is a certainty – but it is the absence of light that frightens me. Tolstoy described the sensation of death as “being thrust endlessly into a black sack,” and I cannot imagine a more intolerable end. My one prevalent fear is that, as my final thought rolls over and blinks out like a meteorite plunging into the ocean, I will be thrust into the sack – that I will suffocate on the stifling vacuum of a reality where there is no light. I leave you this: my last will and testament, as a set of guidelines to protect me from the endless black sack – a way to keep the light from blinking away. Let this document speak for me, to and beyond the grave, eternally as my final wish.] – “Special Instructions For My Burial” by Jerry Fagerberg

[miners wrestled coal from the rock within the mountains east of Golden City the larger chunks they broke apart with their picks until the pieces were small enough to pick up with a single hand as they loaded it onto a cart it rubbed off onto their hands and clothes while some floated into their lungs outside the mine entrance they emptied the cart into a pile as tall as a man a breeze carried some of the loose coal dust off of the top of the pile a pinch of coal settled on the lip of a half finished bottle of whisky that evening a miner pulled from the bottle and the coal smudged against his lower lip he finished the bottle before stumbling into Constance’s tent he lowered himself onto her still form rubbing the coal dust from his lip across her face Constance woke with the coal tickling the inside of her nostrils and the miner’s arm awkwardly bent under her head. She sat up rubbing her nose with the back of her dirty hand and glanced at the miner who still slept drooling a black mixture of coal tobacco and spit onto the dirt floor of the tent…] – “Extraction” by Patrick Kelling

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