The Man with the Trolley

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      By Claire Wilson   [Fiction, Based on a True Story]           Sometimes I can’t decide what’s worse; the people who are obviously laughing at me or the ones that pretend I don’t exist. The subsequent wrenching humiliation is the reason that I normally do all my shopping online. I make sure that my mum’s going to be at home when it’s due to be delivered so that she is available to answer the door.     She couldn’t afford the internet bill last month and now our service has been cut off.     I’ve ran out of my favorite things, the things that I can’t function without. So I ...

November 5, 2015

Results for 2015 MicroStory Contests

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        Watch Me Bounce and its editorial team extends its sincere appreciation to all of the authors who submitted entries to the 2015 MicroStory Contest.     In total, the First, Second, and Third place winners each receive featured publication of their works on Watch Me Bounce as well as $100 in total cash prizes.     For our first-ever "MicroStory" contest, our editorial team selected the following entries as winners:     First Place: "Spoken Word Virgin" by Claire Wilson   Second Place: "Just Breathe" by Brandon-Marie Bigard   Third Place: "The Lights Turned Green" by Shilpita Mathews                   Congratulations to the winners of First Place, Second Place, and Third Place. Click the links below to read the winning entrees. ...

September 17, 2015

Second Place: “Just Breathe”

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      By Brandon-Marie Bigard   [Fiction, Based on a True Story]           Stare into the mirror, hearing words slice like knives. Know you aren’t accepted, aren’t wanted; That this cruelty is normal in middle school.     Now breathe.     Listen and write, talk and sing. Push through the words, through the pain. Push through the fact this is the second time you came so close to ending your life.     Listen. And sing.     You’ll get over this. Just like when you were left in only a shirt after violation. Just like when your mother claimed she was tired of caring about your feelings. Just like when a friend back-stabbed you. You’ll get over this, and come from the ...

September 17, 2015

Third Place: “The Lights Turned Green”

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      By Shilpita Mathews   [Fiction, Based on a True Story]           The lights turned red. Sukanya, one of many vendors, arranged the garlands on her basket and ran.     Nita sighed and started reading a magazine. She was going to meet her soon-to-be husband. She had never spoken to him before. Her marriage was merely another one of father’s business deals. Nita had begged father to change his mind. But now, her future was being washed down in tears.     Sukanya’s future was decided when she was born; destined to sell garlands around this traffic signal. And soon she will marry Ramu, whose father ran the racket around the signal. He promised that if she complied, ...

September 6, 2015

An Unexpected Therapy

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    By Betty Lane     Almost every morning that I stand in front of a mirror to cleanse and moisturize my face, then apply some kind of make up, I cannot help smiling, as I think, however fleetingly, about my unorthodox start as an independent beauty consultant and what that business decision has meant for me and my family through the past many years, despite the fact that ultimately working towards realizing my potential and achieving my dreams led me in an almost altogether different direction.     Until 1998, I was known for my remarkable ability to bounce back from suffering, big obstacles, and tragedy. I had survived childhood neglect and abuse, having grown up with ...

April 10, 2013

My Grandmother’s Eyes

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     By Beth IIiff      My grandmother’s eyes were a deep shade of mossy green. Like the ivy climbing up her back gate. Green as the pine trees that covered the mountain where she lived. Or as green as the jade turtle she always carried in her purse.       My mother’s eyes are just like my grandmother’s. And mine are just like my mother’s. I would sit between them in Grandma’s old pick-up truck. Three pairs of green eyes sparkling as we laughed and bounced down the mountain road into town.       “You hold this fella for me,” Grandma would whisper in my ear. She would slip the turtle from her purse into my lap, “We’ll be ...

April 1, 2013

The Gilded Cage

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    By Seema Chatterjee     The pigeon waited impatiently in her gilded cage. She paced up and down, squinting in the sunlight, as the gold bars of her nest, alchemized to a burnished bronze. Glancing at her watch she sighed. Where was the baron her beloved crow? Where was her loved one? Orchards of mandarins, oranges, grapefruit and lemon, loomed before her. Listlessly, she sipped on some water, longing for a piece of orange to suck on.     Her eyes scanned over bushes of hawthorns and hickories, high bush blueberry, wild grape and honeysuckle and her mouth watered uncontrollably. Did she dare to step out just for a bit? She could ...

March 15, 2013

Two Ounces of Purring Resilience

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    By Marla Morrow McMullen     Our most humbling lesson in resilience began on August 2nd, 2010 when my husband Bob called from work saying he found a newborn kitten that had been abandoned by its mother.  One of his co-workers was willing to take the kitten but didn’t have the time for the constant attention it would need so Bob and I agreed to raise the kitten until it was old enough to go to his new home.  The army depot where my husband works is teeming with wildlife such as cats, mice, snakes, coyotes and hawks.   Bob couldn’t bear the thought of a newborn kitten being nourishment for a wild animal ...

February 1, 2013

Friday the Thirteenth

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    By Tiana Ferrante     Hurricane Charley, I hated you.  It is fitting you came on August 2004, Friday the thirteenth.  I solemnly watched the television as the eye, the most powerful part of the hurricane, neatly rolled over my innocent Florida town, Punta Gorda.  Numb with the colorful pictures on the TV, especially that cool, hypnotic, swirling thing I saw, I little thought of it as I sat on my aunt’s rug in Jupiter, Jupiter, Florida, that is.  I was not expecting anything extraordinary, in fact, I was paying more attention to the car ride than to the destination.     Then, they took me to the house, on Tripoli Boulevard, after finding it by ...

January 15, 2013

The General

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    By A & M Fuentes     There is nothing as deplorable as riding the public transportation around this crazed, sprawling city. If you manage to decipher the cryptography of colored lines and numbers on the bus schedule brochures, I am certain you could also become a successful mathematical analysis or a respectable forensic linguist. Just to be clear, there is no reason why you should even trust those flimsy pieces of propaganda they call The Bus Schedule — all the buses arrive when they are good and ready, and that could be an hour from now, or three.     Once seated on the bus the overwhelming odor of human run off, bitter sweat, musky ...

January 1, 2013