The airlock doors clicked.
She squeezed her elbows into her side. With each mile she climbed into the sky, her heart lightened. Her breath slowed, no longer raggedly keeping up with her heartbeat.
Earphones in. No internet, no phone, no screen. She breathed deeply. The only place she found solace.
Melissa Benn is an aspiring kind human who likes to write on planes.
Halfway through his two-day mission the ship approached lightspeed. His knuckles whitened, and in a snap he was the first person to exceed the cosmic speed limit. Master of time and space.
Many came to celebrate his historic return. His wife and son weren’t among them, but his four-times-great-grandchildren were.
Travel to pontiuspaiva.com to read past stories. Hopefully more of his stories will be published in the future.
The evidence was already heavily against me. The ring—that item meant to solve my problems—found in my possession. Tire tracks in the mud. The dirty shovel in my car.
But what really convinced the jury in the grave robbing case was DNA proof. My nail in the coffin.
Michael Augustine Dondero is a Brooklyn-based writer. Read more on his website, augustinedondero.com. He’s also the co-creator of the horror/sci-fi podcast “Lost Signal Society.” Tune in at lostsignalsociety.com.
The story of the week for March 2 to 6 is…
Holes by Alison Carroll
She was hopeful, he knew. He programmed; she called movies “films.” Blade Runner was common ground.
During the credits, he shrugged. The replicants’ four-year lifespan failsafe was stupid. Engineers were smarter than that.
She was silent for a long time.
You know, she said. I think you’ve missed the point.
Colin Lubner writes (in English) and teaches (math) in southern New Jersey. His fiction has either appeared or will appear, temporally speaking. Extant pieces can be found through his Twitter at @no1canimagine0. He is keeping on keeping on.
After the woman with the coronavirus symptoms departed, Matt Febrezed his desk and—popping an antibiotic from an old prescription—returned to writing his email to his niece Laura, about how nothing she studied in college was going to be of any help out here, not in the real world.
Graham Robert Scott’s stories have appeared in Pulp Literature, Barrelhouse, and Nature. See more at hemicyon.wordpress.com.
I hadn’t planned on speaking
at my mother’s memorial service,
but my equally reticent siblings looked to me
when the minister issued the invitation.
I had no script nor practiced comments,
but in no time at all the entire congregation
was rolling on the aisles.
Later, everyone thanked me profusely.
Ron. Lavalette has been very widely published in both print and pixel forms. His premier chapbook, Fallen Away, is now available from Finishing Line Press, and a reasonable sample of his poetry and short prose can be found at Eggs Over Tokyo.
Nick feels shame buying TV dinners. Stroganoff. Salisbury steak.
Others buy steaks, corn. Things that connote family. Families who move about, laughing, sharing secrets, brushing past Nick.
He picks up a steak, marvels at its robustness. Drops in the cart.
Nick imagines a wife smiling across a table.
He smiles.
Yash Seyedbagheri is a graduate of Colorado State University’s MFA program in fiction. His work has been published or is forthcoming in Literally Stories, 101 Words, (mac)ro (mic), and Ariel Chart.
At first I was numb.
I began to notice them two weeks later:
The hole across the morning breakfast table;
The hole in the recliner facing the television;
The hole on the left side of our bed at night.
I wanted to fall in.
Years later, they sometimes still appear.
Alison hates holes.
A mosaic of tables
under tarped tents
littered with clothing.
Men bellow in Arabic
one-of-a-kind prices.
My Mexican origins
camouflage me
among Mediterraneans.
Arabic numbers
I know: hamsah five, talatah three.
I pick through Zara, H&M, and Bershka pleased
to be brown,
to stand elbow-to-elbow as a pseudo
Tunisian woman.
Alyssa Minaker lives in North Africa with her affectionate husband and her even more affectionate Bichon Maltese, Zizi.