I blow on a dandelion and one thousand wishes are born. One wish guides a lost soldier home. One wish cures cancer. One reunites lovers across the grave.
I carefully pluck all of the wishes from the sky and tuck them into my pocket.
They are my wishes, after all.
Lila is an aspiring writer living in the wild Canadian foothills. She is writing this while getting a laptop-shaped sunburn on her leg.
Teleportation was a technology only the rich could afford. Zapping themselves to Capri for breakfast, Aspen for lunch, Davos for supper, they flaunted their wealth. Until, that is, a hacker reset transmission co-ordinates into the planet’s molten core. Overnight, Earth’s billionaire problem was solved.
A socialist utopia was rapidly established.
Bill is from Aberdeen, Scotland, currently still part of the UK. He shares much in common with Wordsworth, Dickens, and Orwell, in that they also lived in the UK.
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.
Nothing says desperation like an American college student digging through their wallet. I know that’s what the cashier is thinking while watching me frantically search for my card.
She’s not wrong; though I just paid my $25k tuition, the $10 price of bacon seems a little too steep for me.
Sarina Northway is an English and psychology double major at the University of South Carolina. Though not very experienced, she is working on her first traditionally published novel, Dead Girl Walking.