Happy Valentine’s Day!

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amreading, amwriting, blog post, Flash Fiction, love, publications, stories, Valentine's Day

Gustav Klimt, The Kiss

May your heart be filled with love, today and always, whether it’s for a partner, a child, or a pet. Love makes us human.

Here are links to some love stories:

https://sicklitmagazine.com/2016/09/28/zero-plus-one-by-sebnem-sanders/

https://spelkfiction.com/2018/12/24/laundry/

https://spelkfiction.com/2020/04/10/venice/

Thank you very much for reading! 🙂

Mother and Child – Xi Pan Contemporary Chinese Artist – Born in Wenzhou

Hendrik Maarten Krabbé Dutch artist 1868 -1931 A Saucer of Milk for the Cat

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My Flash Fiction Story, Elsewhere, is at the Ekphrastic Review

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amreading, amwriting, Annaliese Jakimides, autumn, Ekphrastic Challenge, Ekphrastic Fiction, Ekphrastic Review, Fiction, Flash Fiction, future, hope, loss, love, memories, microfiction, past, portals, present, publication, Time-Molt Tender, time-travel, writerscommunity

Time-Molt, Tender, by Annaliese Jakimides (USA) 2022

I’m honoured to have my flash fiction story, Elsewhere, at the Ekphrastic Review, along with many talented writers and poets. Many thanks to Annaliese Jakimides for her inspiring painting as the ekphrastic challenge and to Lorette C. Luzajic for her wonderful literary magazine.

Here’s the link:

https://www.ekphrastic.net/the-ekphrastic-challenges/ekphrastic-writing-responses-annaliese-jakimides?fbclid=IwAR1OQcHYxWX_WnCLWxjQllMNBLdFeetmSzcBDNYfvqM5OK26jNVA1pdNf4s

Thank you very much for reading. 🙂

My Microfiction Story, A Tale of Many Cities, is up at The Rye Whiskey Review

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acceptance, amreading, amwriting, boundaries, cities, countries, courage, disillusionment, dreams, eternal love, experience, Flash Fiction, freedom, gains, loss, love, old age, publication, reality, The Rye Whiskey Review, the sea, travel, water, writerscommunity, youth

Sunset by Felix Vallotton, Swiss-French Artist (December 28, 1865 – December 29, 1925)

Many thanks to the Editor, John Patrick Robbins, I have a new microfiction story at The Rye Whiskey Review.

https://ryethewhiskeyreview.blogspot.com/2022/02/a-tale-of-many-cities-by-sebnem-e.html?fbclid=IwAR01s4na3bIqL-nQMHpNn3IiZjTe4hcXf-ol8qFD3filf4WC8q9bRuO9VX4

Thank you very much for reading. 🙂

Angel’s Cove- by Sebnem Sanders

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amreading, amwriting, aromas, attraction, beach, blue, boat, dreams, Flash Fiction, loss, lost places, love, memories, nourishment, publications, sand, Sea, sea people, seafood, SickLit Magazine, soulmates, writerscommunity

Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone! Here ‘s a love story from me, first published at SickLit Magazine, then in my Anthology, Ripples on the Pond. Many thanks to the Editor, Kelly Coody for having faith in me. 🙂

https://sicklitmagazine.com/2016/07/23/angels-cove-by-sebnem-sanders/

Silhouette Sunset Dusk Beach Woman Looking

My Flash Fiction Story, Laundry, is at the Subject and Verb Agreement Press

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amreading, amwriting, attraction, Flash Fiction, grief, Laundry, loss, love, microfiction, publication, relationships, reprints, resolution, Spelk Fiction, Subject and Verb Agreement Press, writerscommunity

Many thanks to the Editor Jesse at Subject And Verb Agreement Press, my flash fiction story, Laundry, which first appeared at Spelk Fiction, is at their website.

https://savapress.blogspot.com/2022/01/laundry-by-sebnem-sanders.html?fbclid=IwAR2ssByE5jf-b5hJbOp9QGhzYsRI-DGcW2120SDIakgShzDc0evS_623jKc

Thank you very much for reading. 🙂

The Kiss by Andre Kohn

A Festival of Flash 8 – Janis Freegard, Rob Walton, Iona Winter, Gloria Garfunkel & Şebnem E. Sanders

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A Festival of Flash, a kaleidoscope of colours, amreading, amwriting, colours, COVID, Flash Fiction, love, Love in the Time of Covid, Micro Fiction, pandemic, Sailing, social-distancing, writerscommunity

I have a micro-fiction story on this page, along with some great writers. Enjoy! 😍 Many thanks to the editors Michelle Elvy and
Witi Ihimaera.

Love in the Time of COVID

You’ll never see unless you look by Janis Freegard

Your head sinks into the pillow, you pass through the tunnel where sometimes, briefly, voices speak words that don’t quite make sense, where there are shapes and patterns you only ever see in this state, then you’re through to the other world, the sleep world.

It’s different here. Life happens in fragments. Time means nothing. A friend can become a cat and then your cousin. You see someone you know but they are wearing a stranger’s face. Electrical appliances will not work. The dead were never dead.

Try to wake up inside this world. This way you can influence events. Flying is a good option for you. It may take a few tries. To start with, you might be hovering just above the ground, worrying about crashing down. Don’t. Don’t think about that. Concentrate on levitating above rooftops and trees. Get…

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The X Factor by Sebnem Sanders

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amreading, amwriting, crime, death, escape, fate, Fiction, loss, love, publication, Punk Noir Magazine, Ripples on the Pond, Short Story, writerscommunity

Many thanks to Author Paul D. Brazil for publishing my story, The X Factor, at Punk Noir Magazine. This story first appeared in Ripples on the Pond.

Punk Noir Magazine

The X Factor

Notting Hill, London

Scarlett gazed at Frank, lying next to her in bed. His tousled hair covered part of his face, eyelids framed by dark curly lashes fluttered in sleep. She stroked his hair. He opened his eyes and looked into hers.

“Good morning,” he said, yawned and stretched, and kissed her on the mouth.

Scarlet sighed and held his hand. “Why do you always disappear?”

“Because I’m a spy.”

“Liar, if you were, you wouldn’t tell me.”

“True, but it could be possible — the X-Factor.”

“There’s something spooky about you. I can’t put my finger on it, but you go away for a long time, never call, then you surface and ask me out.”

“I told you. My job requires me to travel.”

“Why don’t you call when you’re away?”

“What’s the point? I won’t be able to see you.”

“Is that what this is…

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The Song of Spring by Sebnem E. Sanders

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addiction, daughter, death, Flash Fiction, grief, loss, love, memories, mother, murder, publications, Punk Noir Magazine, regret, relationships, violence

My Story, The Song of Spring is at Punk Noir Magazine. Many thanks to the Editor-in-Chief and author, Paul D. Brazill. 🙂

Punk Noir Magazine

The Song of Spring

Belma

Belma watched over the crowd gathering in the courtyard of the mosque. On the altar, stood a coffin. Draped over its raised head, a muslin scarf with a crocheted edge, and a small wreath of white and purple freesias placed upon it. Her favourite flowers. The men were lined up before the altar and the women, their heads covered, assembled on both sides. Belma scanned their faces. They all had tears in their eyes. She recognized most of them. Friends, relatives, colleagues. Someone must have died, a woman. She saw her mother, her best mate, and her cousins. Her eyes searched the congregation. Where’s Aila? She jabbed a finger at her mother’s shoulder and whispered in her ear.

The sweet aroma of the freesias reminded her of the Song of Spring she used to sing to Aila when she was a little girl, and how…

View original post 1,002 more words

Venice

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amreading, amwriting, death, Death in Venice, Flash Fiction, Lido, loss, love, micro-fiction, relationships, Spelk Fiction, Thomas Mann, Venice

via Venice

It’s great to be back at Spelk Fiction, my favourite literary magazine, with a love story. Many thanks to the Editor-in-Chief, Cal Marcius.

Thanks for reading and Happy Easter! 🙂

 

Venice by Claude Monet

The Hill, inspired by Gabriele Munter’s Jawlensky and Werefkin, 1908 #HappyWomensDay

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amreading, amwriting, change, equality, Flash Poesy, love, memories, perseverance, persistance, war, women, Women's Day, women's rights

Gabriele Munter, Jawlensky and Werefkin, 1908

 

 

I have always been inspired by Gabriele Munter’s paintings, especially this particular one, Jawlensky and Werefkin, 1908, which tells me a story.

Gabriele Munter , one of the few women artists in early 20th century, who were recognised by the male-dominated art world. I have great respect for her.

I thought I’d written a flash fiction story inspired by this painting, a while ago. It turns out to be a poem. I’m no poet, this probably needs editing, but perhaps that was the only way I could express my feelings.

 

The Hill

(1908-1948)

 

 

We sit at the top of the hill,

under the cosy spring sun,

and watch the world below

 

The bouquet of flowers you pick on the way up,

I fix to the ribbon around my plain straw hat,

and feel like a member of the nobility.

 

My eyes shifting to the puffy, white clouds,

I dream a bright future for us

You observe the movements of the ants,

and say, we must be so well-organized

 

 

I still remember that day, my love,

though I lost you to the insidious war.

Left with two young children,

in the shambles of our dream house,

I had to work to support them.

 

It’s been forty years since that day,

with another war claiming lives.

Grateful that our children have survived it,

I’m now a retired grandmother looking after theirs

 

The world has changed so much,

you wouldn’t believe it

We don’t have to wear fancy hats and long dresses,

even gloves have gone out of style.

 

Women can vote, go to universities,

and become professionals.

Life is easy with telephones, radio,

automobiles, electric trains, and airplanes,

so thoroughly organized.

 

I still live in our restored dream house,

and go up the hill to celebrate our anniversary each year.

Though much has changed,

spring flowers decorating my straw hat,

the puffy, white clouds above, and the village

have stayed the same.

 

 

Sometimes I miss the elegance of the past,

though life is much simpler now.

But I miss you most of all,

and have never found anything

to replace your love.

 

Happy Women’s Day!

 

Thank you for reading. 🙂