RODRIGO ORTIZ VINHOLO: Ammunition

Adventure, Amusing, Submissions, , , ,

We didn’t have enough bullets for everyone, so we had to draw lots. I lost. Typical.

“You should be glad,” they said. “You’ll get to live longer. In a way, we are the losers, right?”

Joke’s on them: I’ll eat their faces as soon as I turn into a zombie.

Rodrigo Ortiz Vinholo is a Brazilian fiction writer based in São Paulo. His short fiction work has been featured in over a hundred collections in Brazilian Portuguese, exploring a wide variety of genres. His latest books are ‘Sinônimo de Rancor’ (2018, self-published), ‘Os Dias em que Rubia Viveu no Futuro’ (2019, Lendari), ’33’ (2020, Casa Literária) and ‘Poemas Chatos para Pessoas Ruins’ (2020, Darda Editora). See more at rodrigoortizvinholo.com.br (in Brazilian portuguese)

ROBERT MARKOVICH: The Empty Booth

Artistic, Submissions, Touching, , , , ,

Nearly every old strip-mall parking lot has one, a brick-and-glass memorial to when some kid inside handed you your finished Kodachromes.

Where did all those Kodachromes go? To dusty drawers and landfills. And the kid? To ‘Nam, where he stayed as his parents grew old wondering why they let him.

Robert Markovich spent a lifetime in what is charitably referred to as service journalism, writing and editing stories about everything from cars to toilets, most recently at Consumer Reports. He is happily and gratefully retired.

JR WALSH: Refer your friends

Artistic, Submissions, , , ,

We weren’t in the evacuation zone, but we drove to the shelter.

We’re petting mangy dogs and seeing the guns. Breathing in people sprawled on Army blankets.

Dodging spinning children in line to pee. Signing up everyone for Amazon Prime. Five bucks per referral.

We’ll upgrade our bathrooms with bidets.

JR Walsh writes in landlocked Idaho, but itsjrwalsh.com floats everywhere.

MARIA CARGILLE: Stress Turned My Soul to Copper and Steam

Artistic, Poetry, Submissions, Top Stories, , , ,

Anxiety forces another beam of steel through my belly,
apprehension caps my lungs,
and tangles them in wire.

Electricity jolts my chest
yanking a mechanical heart to life.

Oil slicks my throat
choking me into silence.

Perhaps terror stole my voicebox
too
and only the gears in my brain
scream.

Maria copes with stress by listening to Steam Powered Giraffe, and writing strange poetry.

JOHN YOUNG: Humans!

Adventure, Submissions, , , ,

Humans, givers of food, thought the large dog, bounding to the man sitting against a wall. Since the time of the great light, the wind and fires, it had eaten little.

But the human had no food and was very weak.

Humans are food! thought the dog, trotting contentedly away.

John Young is an old chap grappling with themes of limits, longings, and finitude. He lives in St Andrews, Scotland, an ancient town with an ancient university, home of golf, home also – allegedly – of many ghosts. (He has not met any yet.)

EDITH HELBERT: Like a Boss

Artistic, Submissions, , ,

Waving good morning at a colleague, Shelly drops her bag on the table. Smiling, she opens her laptop and punches the flashing button on her desk phone, ready to begin. “Who knew one retirement would make such a difference around here?” she thinks. “I should have fired him years ago.”

Edith is an uprooted southerner living in the midwestern US, where people talk too quickly and rivers move too slowly, but otherwise it’s a nice place to live.

BOB McWILLIAMS: The Old Folks at Home

Adventure, Odd, Submissions, , ,

The gate swung easily. The elderly couple on the porch chatting quietly. He glanced around. A perfect lawn. No weeds anywhere. Roses blooming everywhere. The house looked immaculate. Who called social services? Quick check and I’ll be gone.

“Excuse me, can we talk?”

The couple turned. Glowing crimson eyes glared.

Bob is retired and busy caring for his 5 dogs. After retiring, he began bartending but has since switched to writing. It may not yet be as financially rewarding but there’s a lot to be said about sitting and writing with a good cocktail! Bob is a big sports fan that lives outside Philly. A website is coming.

ANNALISE SANDRICH: First Attempt

Artistic, Submissions, , ,

There’s something oddly beautiful about a piece of crumpled up paper. The words lose their meaning and take on texture, melding with other fragments of folded sentences. The words, the one thing you thought still had meaning, are now denatured enzymes—useless. But didn’t you used to love beautiful destruction?

AnnaLise Sandrich lives in California, where she writes for the Redwood Bark. Her work has been published in Short Fiction Break and will soon appear in 101 Words.

LISA CHAMBERS: A Cover Story

Amusing, Submissions, , , , ,

Sam can be so stubborn… most recently, his refusal to wear a mask.

I begged him. He scoffed, said it was silly, too confining.

“It’s not all about you!” I snapped. “Think of our friends. It’s expected, after all.”

Grumbling, he finally relented.

He’ll make a great Yoda this Halloween.

Lisa Chambers is a Texas girl who loves writing (and reading) short stories.

Editor: But actually though: wear a mask!