“Overturned!” cried the judges. “You’re free!”
Our first tram ride home in years echoed with their warning that we remember this mercy should we ever catapult into power.
We didn’t. After the coup, we scorched our enemies out of dirt and mind.
Of course, the judges had to go, too.
Evan McMurry’s fiction has been published in more than one dozen journals, including Post Road, Euphony, Arcturus, Oddville Press, Lotus-Eater Magazine, Palaver, Mulberry Fork Review and more. His story “Nothing Kinky” won the New Millennium Fiction Prize, and his story “Nixon in Heaven” won Exposition Review’s Flash Fiction contest. “The Fall of Rabbi Gold” was selected as a finalist for the Al-Simāk Award for Fiction from the Chicago Review of Books.
As the clock struck midnight, ushering in my fiftieth birthday, the friends I’d been playing D&D with since middle school learned I was no longer the same person.
To be fair, one of them wasn’t surprised. I absorbed him first, while the others thought we were still playing a game.
The filament flares of our violet sun act like milestones of the day; less so, the red night sun that chases—it’s too weak to emit much of anything.
A lot like my father and I.
I wiped the knife. “You won’t call me your red son anymore, I suppose.”
E.O. figures that people on other worlds probably still have daddy issues and bad blood. But they also have space cars, e.g. a flying Maserati. And that’s pretty cool.
Blood splattered the sand and the colosseum roared.
Cenicus stood over his fallen opponent as circling beasts gnawed at their fetters.
The wounded man looked up and smiled. “Good fight, son.”
Cenicus nodded but did not lift his visor.
His eyes ran freely as he waited for the master’s thumb.
Matthew Coward is a habitual daydreamer, occasional writer, and proud night-owl. He writes fantasy inspired flash fiction, short stories, and poetry.
You and a friend have been stranded for over a decade.
You have searched for years, covering hundreds of miles, finding no signs of others.
You hear a loud roar and see a spacecraft approach.
Is it a rescue, or an unknown danger?
Markings on the craft read Earth One.
Denny E. Marshall had had art, poetry, and fiction published. One recent credit is fiction in Night To Dawn 35, April 2019. See more at dennymarshall.com.
Mark had waited sixty years for revenge.
Searching the retirement home, he found Ben snoozing, feeble. But Mark felt no sympathy for his old enemy.
“For what you did to me at that party,” Mark sneered.
He raised a magic marker, and marred Ben’s face with a moustache and glasses.
G.B. Burgess is a graphic designer. She is occasionally commissioned at parties to create moustaches and glasses.
Standing by the open doorway, she heard the floor creak behind her.
Too afraid to move, she tried pushing her eyes far enough to see the mirror in her peripherals.
A warm breath caressed her neck. Her pupils widened and her eyes filled with tears.
“Found you,” whispered no reflection.
James started writing at a young age as a means of escaping reality. Now his goal is to redefine the psychological and horror genres.
It all started as a joke, but thousands of us did end up camping in the desert. We couldn’t get any closer than five miles from Area 51 because of the military roadblocks, but a large tent city quickly emerged. When the alien ships arrived, the joke was on us.
Eddie D. Moore travels extensively for work, and he spends much of that time listening to audiobooks. The rest of the time is spent dreaming of stories to write, and he spends the weekends writing them. His stories have been published by Jouth Webzine, Kzine, Alien Dimensions, Theme of Absence, Devolution Z, and Fantasia Divinity Magazine. Find more on his blog.
Every night the master sleeps with his head resting in the groove of a guillotine,
the blade elevated, notched by a lever. Lanterns illuminate the narrow chamber.
All any disciple need do is enter and release the blade.
Each night the master dreams of the wisest, purest, most devoted assassin.
Bob Thurber is the author of “Paperboy: A Dysfunctional Novel” and two collections of stories. A celebrated master of Flash and Micro Fiction, his work has appeared in 60 anthologies, received dozens of awards, and been used in schools and colleges throughout the world. He resides in Massachusetts where, though legally blind, he continues to write every day. Visit his website at BobThurber.net.
Tomlinson raged to his feet, scattering the table and playing cards. “Cheater!” he hollered at O’Leary.
“Go home, Tomlinson, you’re drunk!”
As Tomlinson stumbled toward the barn door, his boot knocked over the lantern.
For three days, Chicago burned.
Tomlinson blamed it on O’Leary’s cow. Nobody alive could contradict him.
Jen Mierisch draws inspiration from science fiction, ghost stories, and the wacky idiosyncrasies of human nature. She lives, works, and writes just outside Chicago, Illinois.