Micro Monday

TGLR Presents ~ Micro Monday

Micro Monday features brief fiction, cnf, and poetry. It’s like a shot of literary adrenaline to jump start your week.

This Week’s Feature…

Clothes Rack by Niles Reddick

The Sears store was cold compared to the hundred degrees temperature and humidity outside in inland Florida where the coastal breezes cease, and Mom was lured there after receiving the sales circular in the mail. I had eaten my gummy bears and fidgeted with the clothes on the rack. “Leave the clothes alone,” she said. “Play with your cars.”  “Are you almost finished?” “No,” she said, pulling a hanger with a dress from the metal retail rack, holding the dress on the hanger just below her chin, looking at it in the floor-length mirror on the wall, putting it back…

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Previous features:

Sickbed Pantoum by Heidi Hermanson

My brain is a furnace on high Now where did I put my tissues Things arrange and rearrange themselves At will. Don’t ask my any complex questions. Now where did I put my tissues? My bed is a magic carpet taking me across the world…


I Won’t Lay Dave to Rest If He’s Naked by Kenny Mitchell

My father threatened to haunt me for eternity if I buried his corpse. I don’t know, it was about the chemicals they pump into your skin that weirded him out, or something like that. He was a man with leathery flesh who billowed at the gut, with tattoos disfigured by years of stretching skin. The…


The Waiting Room by Allie Griffith

In the hospital waiting room, we harmonize as we wait. A woman clutches an emesis bag to her lips, setting the rhythm: short, rapid breaths in and out — a whoosh then crinkle of plastic. A boy coughs in wet, staccato bellows. Half-asleep in her wheelchair, a woman chants, “I used to live in Fairlawn,…


Big Lots Indulgences by Anastasia Jill

The neighbors have Jesus glowing in the backyard. First night, I thought I hallucinated him but no. As the day broke into a yawn, a breadth of sunlight on the green revealed a plastic Messiah suspended between a bird bath and a molting lawn chair. He glowed Neptune blue in the midnight dark, but I…


The Vanishing by Jenn Ashton

He said he was trying to be more organized. Soon his desk was tidy, the drawers were cleaned out and little by little I saw less and less of his things laying around until one day I noticed they were gone and so was he.

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The Good Life Review is seeking previously unpublished work by writers from all walks of life. Please read submission guidelines and when you’re ready, head over to Submittable to submit your work.

Issue #10 Cover Art: Scarred Beauty by Gerburg Garmann

The Good Life Review is a 501C nonprofit literary journal made with ♥ from Omaha, Nebraska. We are committed to exploring the overlooked and are taking active steps toward a more diverse and equitable publishing platform.