Mysterious Photograph
Each issue features a Mysterious Photograph. Readers are invited to submit a 250-word (or less) flash fiction story based on the photo. The person who invents the best mystery story receives a prize of $25, and the story is published in a future issue.
The Story That Won the January/February 2026 contest:
The January/February Mysterious Photograph contest was won by Jeff Dycus of Benton, Kentucky. Honorable Mentions go to Allen Bell of Calgary, Alberta, Canada; Robert Greer of Denver, Colorado; Dennis McAree of Palmer Township, Pennsylvania; Michael J. Ciaraldi of Shrewsbury Massachusetts; Karen Folques of Barrie, Ontario, Canada; M. A. Lopez of Fontana, California; Bob Jacobs of Crown Point, Indiana; Sheila Dene´ Lawrence of Birmingham, Alabama; Ed Rigley of Phenix City, Alabama; Sarah Callanan of St. Johnsbury, Vermont; and C. M. Beard of Universal City, Texas.
Live and Let Slide
by Jeff Dycus
This was not like in the Bond films. Smirk at the enemy, grab the secret formula, fly off down the mountain. Dodge trees and boulders. Skid down sheer snow faces. Magically avoid hails of machine gun bullets. And, in a cinematic show of brilliance, launch yourself off the three-thousand-foot cliff, release your wing suit, and soar to safety while the guys in black plummet to their well-deserved end.
First, the exit had been nothing to brag about; I had slugged a cleaning lady and fallen out a back window. Second, I was on a snowboard, which, admit it, is about as unBondlike as you can get. Three, sleet had turned the mountain into a sheet of ice. FYI, snowboards suck on ice, but when things go as stupidly wrong as they did, you take what you can get.
Just get to the parking lot and hope there is no welcoming committee offering the afore-mentioned hail of bullets. But getting to the bottom in one piece will be a miracle. The snowboard is actively trying to kill me. With all the falls, I might as well have luged down the hill on my belly.
Finally! The cars. No sign of any big guys with big guns. Slide into the netting close to the car. A quick glance up the slope, two of them coming fast. Yank off my boots and fumble my way into the car. Almost there. Key in the ignition, and . . . click . . . click . . . click.