Check out this neat poem submitted to Open Mic Online last month! Wouldn't be cool if your work was here, too? You can submit at any time through our Submittable portal (click the Open Mic Online tab)!

"october, 2016"
pavement pressed with my permanent footprints
from walking home at 3 in the morning
i can smell the beautifully baked bread at the shop
that stood next to my apartment, awake so early
i saw the moon still shining in the sky
because morning is merely a motion of want
i felt my hands chilled with the october air or the alcohol
i felt my pulse pounding through my skull.
my memory is mostly a miscalculation
so maybe none of this even actually happened,
maybe my brain is just begging to begin anew,
maybe my heart is hoping to hold on to you.
By JB Brackett

Thank you to everyone who submitted to our October short horror prompt! We received some great two-sentence horror stories and eerie haikus; here are some of our favorites! Want to see your work featured here in the future? Submit to Open Mic Online through our Submittable!
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This Halloween, it wasn't the ghosts, skeletons, nor costume-less child that caused her panic but the yellow brew in the glass pot: it was a reminder she came for coffee she never made. Work's cloud was angry; as its thunders struck her head for time wasted, 6 joyful voices sprinted by, a reminder that the true horror of Halloween is an inability to play.
By Venus Alemanji 
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Oh, what disarray—I can’t for the life of me find where I’ve misplaced my hands—under that blanket there, or by my fingernails?—where did I put my hands, my lovely hands that, when I first spotted them in that Boston wedding in 1922, I knew they just had to be mine. But there's the door, at least I have my face made up—oh my, don’t be shy—come on in and let me get a closer look at your lovely green eyes.
By Jasper Lee-Lin
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[untitled]
​I went to the prom,
had nobody to go with,
we had a great time!
By Ella Hoyt
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"waking to a nightmare"
i imagine i
don't daily dream of dying,
but i know better
By James Karroum
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"I open a door"
It is standing—there
In the middle of the hall
A frown on its face
By Jasper Lee-Lin
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