“Bless you,” the stranger said.
“Take it back!” was my response, as I sniffed and wiped my nose on my sleeve.
Her eyes widened. “What? Why?” Her disgust and disapproval at my rudeness danced in her eyes and voice.
“It burns,” was all I could say.
Then I sneezed again.
Chad Bunch writes speculative fiction from the suburbs of Saint Louis. He is currently trying his darnedest to publish two novels and several short stories.
A man trudged from his job in the service industry—the only work he could get—when a thug held him at gunpoint.
“Don’t shoot!” he begged.
The thug fired once… and felt seven rounds pierce his own chest.
“How…!?” he protested, dying.
“The name’s Cain,” the waiter replied miserably.
E.O. thinks there are probably some people in the world who should never be poked with a stick. Ever. Like gynecologists and postal employees.
According to legend, anyone who stepped on Spafford’s grave would never live to see twenty-one. And, sure enough, Robbie Johnson drowned at sixteen, and Willie Eckerson shot himself at twenty.
So the day Rita Snowberger turned twenty-one we had to celebrate, although I suspect even she shared our secret disappointment.
Tony Jasnowski teaches at Bellevue University, hoping to inspire in his students an appreciation for mystery in life.
Sara pricked her finger arranging the roses and gasped. Pain still surprised her.
Since her most recent retrofit, Sara’s existence had been forever altered. Her service to the good doctor had been routine, until he had gifted her with the ability to feel, which would probably lead to his death.
Mary spends winters living on a 35-foot sailboat in Florida and summers in Ontario. A wanderer by fate, she embraces photography, writing, acting, and fitness coaching as opportunities present themselves.
“Where are we?” grumbled Trim, rolling out of bed.
“Planet X!” enthused Portly.
“I dunno,” said Portly. “It’s a ‘forbidden fruit’ thing, I guess.”
“But don’t you know about the Curse?”
“What curse?” said Portly.
Trim groaned haggardly. “Now we’ll never be able to recite the alphabet again!”
This story is based on a title suggested by @keab42.
Garth banged his shin against the coffee table and swore loudly.
“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” said his friend.
“My mother’s dead,” said Garth.
“But if she were alive, would you still kiss her… with… your mouth…”
A few awkward moments passed.
“I probably would,” said Garth.