Resistance is futile you have been assimilated.
Your mind will experience
a gradual desensitization.
You are not alone.
Your are within the many.
It comes with no pain.
Ignore those over 50.
Do not try to shut off your phone, internet, or computer.
Resistance is futile you have been assimilated.
Patrick once gave up the internet for a year in real life, but then again he is over 50.
Emergent leaves of yellow and green slowly unfurl. Upwards they reach, like the needy hands of a child. They whisper, never cry, for they only have the voice that the wind compassionately lends them. Nature, a generous mother, showers down upon her children the necessities of life, light and water.
Priscilla lives in Canada where spring arrives late and does not stay for long.
Today I am awake.
Today I am alive.
Today I am not wasting any more time.
Today I am going to get out of bed.
Today I am going to love myself again.
Today I am going to tell the truth.
Today I am
deluding myself, about all those things.
Catherine Buck is an “emerging writer”, and is spending her summer dreaming of critical acclaim. She is currently based in Philadelphia, soon to be transplanted to Texas.
Seeing the empty porridge bowls on their return, the bears tiptoed upstairs.
They checked Little Bear’s bedroom. The bed was ruffled!
Then the Middle Bear’s bedroom: likewise ruffled.
But in Big Bear’s bedroom the bed was neat. He exclaimed, “You lazy lot! Don’t you make your own beds?”
Stuart Larner is a chartered psychologist. He has published poems and stories in magazines and newspapers and for the stage, as well as articles in scientific journals. Stuart has written an ebook in verse, “Jack Daw and the Cat”, and a novel about cricket entitled “Guile and Spin”. See more of his work at stuartlarner.blogspot.com.
Private helicopters and jets whisk coddled, air-smooching trophy wives off to be detoxed, Botoxed, Gucci’ed and Armani’ed. Yacht captains are given their sailing orders. More wings are added to megamansions. Indolent, entitled Trust Babies wreck this year’s batch of their daddies’ Ferraris and Lamborghinis.
Your stolen pension funds at work.
Carl Dinerman is a retired ex-physicist and ex-telecom website designer with untreatable delusions that he could be an entertaining writer.
The gas station attendant in nowhere, Nebraska, was majestically framed by a full-sized American flag. After niceties, he inquired about my accent.
“I’m from Jersey.”
His eyes misted, “That’s near 9-11.”
What?
“Some might forget, but not me.”
I briefly wondered if people in Poland obsess over tragedies in Spain.
J. Ian Manczur wrote this story. ALIVD MONSTRVM SIMPLICITER SVM.
After the cheesy introduction of the chefs, it was almost time to unveil the competition’s mandatory ingredient.
In their stomach-churning anxiety to start whipping up dishes, the contestants waited… Most hoped for potatoes. Or beef. Or even scallops.
The host tore off the covering:
MILK
Sour glances were all around.
Joey wasn’t interested in writing while at school but has been writing on his own in recent years, mostly to amuse himself. He has been published at The Story Shack and Needle In The Hay. He dislikes cooking game shows.
Every summer my father paints three boulders beside the road in white reflective paint to warn motorists.
The cousins from Quebec had missed the sharp turn one night to crash against the muscular oaks that flank our property.
I heard their screams through my bedroom window until the ambulance came.
Ann de Bruin is an interior designer and writer living in Los Angeles.
I made a toy once, of bone and sinew. I gave it up when I went into the Service.
I dream of my flag being sent to mom, her taking out the toy.
The drones whir above us. There’s a boy fumbling for something in the rubble, perhaps a toy.
Adam McAlpine Clark has been writing fiction and poetry for over fifteen years. Two and a half years ago he entered graduate school for law and environmental and international development policy. As a result, he began writing non-fiction articles about international environmental justice issues. He has been continuing to write fiction, albeit slowly, but his work has been heavily inflected with concerns of globalization and loss.
I haven’t cleaned (or done much of anything) since you left, and now I only have dust clouds to keep me company in my silent apartment.
I resolve to vacuum, knowing I can treat myself to a peek at your picture (which I’ll destroy, I swear!) in the storage closet.
Sheela Kamath is a copy editor based in the San Francisco Bay Area. When she’s not writing, she’s adding books — from literary fiction to sci-fi and fantasy — to her Goodreads list and playing with her dog Starbuck (named for “Battlestar Galactica,” naturally). You can follow her on Twitter @skamath3.