She scanned the classroom filled with adults looking for a second chance at life, predicting her neighbor’s answer: My name is Dan Clark and I am an alcoholic.
Then she bowed her head and scrawled her own upon the notebook: I am someone who cannot describe herself in ten words.
Joscelyn Willett consistently has trouble deciding which ice cream flavor to order, so always orders chocolate. It’s a solid choice.
Again, leaving the grocery store, to the side of the exit, I see that large cage of big, bouncy, colorful plastic balls.
I want one each time I see them, but my wife and grandkids assure me I’m too old to play with such things anymore.
When did that happen?
Alexander Key teaches high school when absolutely desperate for attention.
Black cats come every night. They sit at my freshly cleaned porch and miaow.
Begging for food, so I feed them.
Begging for shelter, so I help them.
But they keep miaowing for more and I can’t take the noise. I shut them away, but they keep coming back.
Begging.
Lottie Nancarrow is a girl who spends too much time in her thoughts.
Sakura ascended to the Throne amid cheers. The Vizier stepped forward.
“Highness, she is an undeserving peasant!”
In the silence, Sakura heard the twang of a bowstring. Her sword sliced the arrow before it could impact the Vizier.
“Seems deserving to me,” said the Emperor.
“Objection withdrawn!” gasped the Vizier.
M. Chronister is a long-time writer of all lengths of science fiction and fantasy. While so far unpublished, she persists in creating stories that will please and entertain, and perseveres in submitting them.
My legs beg me to stop but we must keep running. Sharp winds cut and pierce my skin. The snow makes this difficult.
“Keep running! Save yourself!”
An entire pack approaches: thundering hooves, glimmering eyes. His grip loosens. Menacing eyes and white breath envelop me.
I know what comes next.
Estefania Jomant is a student studying Advertising with a minor in Psychology at the University of Miami. Her website is: www.estefaniajomant.com.
A lonely ache lives in your chest, shoving things out of the way to make room. It’s hard to breathe now. It grows. Gains teeth.
Soon, it begins to gnaw away at your heart. It is fortunate it chose that, for it is the thing you will miss the least.
Anna Piaia is a lover of both words and history. She lives in Philadelphia, where both are plentiful. You can see her ramblings at annadelphia.com.
I see a homeless lady standing. Her sweater hangs loosely from her frame.
A man walks near her. He gives her a cigarette.
Her hair looks like dying grass.
I look at the leaves falling slowly, and I want to bury each one as if they were a loved one.
Jorge B. Valdes Jr., an SFA graduate student, lives in East Texas and contributes to movie, film, and book reviews for the Horrorzine, having contributed to their anthology, “Feast of Frights.” On his time off, he tries to ponder reality, and the reality of truly being and enjoying things. Valdes is happily married and has 2 wonderful dogs named Corben and Shadow.
At Heaven’s gate:
“Wish, and I would grant it.”
“No ifs and buts?”
“Just that.”
“I wish to become the one and only Lord of all.”
And the next moment was of omnipresence, omnipotence and omniscience.
And He could recollect him and the others, asking Him to be the Lord.
Novel Martis is an amateur writer who likes to write about ideas and incidents. His work can be found at novelmartis.wordpress.com.
For her, each day dissolves into the next, like a sugar cube in hot water. Instinctively she clings, grabs, and clutches to the remains of her earlier self. Memories assemble in a dense haze of déjà vu.
Little-by-little, piece-by-piece, bit-by-bit she forfeits what made her sweet and solid. She dissipates.
Stephanie Glover is a professional juggler. Just kidding. Not a literal juggler, but she does juggle in the figurative sense. Stephanie is a full time student, employee, mother, and wife. In addition, she pursues her passions of writing and photography. Most often she can be found planting idea seeds in the little book she carries in her purse, or releasing the shutter on her beloved camera.
“Frederick, your bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired.”
He turned to encounter Miss Stone, aged some, but sharp-tongued as ever.
“Your patient is my twin sister who fell ill yesterday.”
“B-B-But,” he stuttered.
“You thought it was me in the wheelchair?” she interrupted.
“Two of them?” he thought.
John B Sinclair is a much-travelled Scot who has now returned to Scotland, where he enjoys freelance writing on a variety of subjects.
Editor’s Note: This story is a sequel to Payback.