Contributor: Chris Sharp - - Ten years ago, they had each been on the high school state championship wrestling team. The three of them agreed to have a lunch a month before their momentous tenth high school anniversary. It was Anthony who said that the lunch would serve as an elixir of youth for them, since even though they were each only 28 years old, they were already missing some of the irresponsibility that went with their high school years. They settled on the Islands restaurant in Old Town Pasadena for their meeting. It was the one restaurant to assure Anthony that the waiters and waitresses would wear shorts and talk to them like they were the place’s party hosts. As expected, Anthony was the first to be at the scene. He was also the first one to secure the alumni directory to get the right phone numbers Anthony had been...

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Author: Chris Sharp

Contributor: Jennifer Pauk - - The camera slowly moved in on her face, capturing the raw emotion. The tall, gorgeous blonde was now the focus of the camera. The tears fell freely from her face as she stared off into the distance. Her eyes were red and puffy, her face a mask of pain. This was the moment where everyone got close to her. They felt the pain as she was feeling it and they were a part of her. They knew her. The camera stayed on her face for a few more moments as a flicker of determination appeared in her eyes. The tears slowed and her face focused, fully determined now. “Cut! That was good, everybody take five,” a male voice yelled. The actress’s face abruptly changed. Her previously tear-streaked face now merely appeared bored. She stalked off the set toward me, and without even looking me in the eye she demanded, “Get me...

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Author: Jennifer Pauk

Contributor: Beth J. Whiting - - Claire had lost her brain. She only had enough cognitive ability left to get it back. She lost her brain during an accident and her life was hard to live without it. She could barely get through the simple routines of her job and her day. She had an investigator look into it. Claire explained the situation, “I lost my brain in an accident. I need to get it back.” The woman, who wore thick glasses and had her hair in a French braid said, “I understood that you had a mental illness.” “Yes.” “Which one?” Claire didn’t like the way the woman stated it. She treated mental illnesses like they were ice cream flavors to choose from. “OCD.” “We can find you a brain. A better brain. A brain without disease or even a smarter one if you prefer.” “No thanks. I just want mine back.” She wouldn’t be herself without...

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Author: Beth J. Whiting

Contributor: John Laneri - - Tyrone Freeman walked into my office on a Friday afternoon just as I was ready to leave with my wife, Carrie, who by the way works my front desk. Right off, the man pissed me off. He was mid-thirties, loaded with jewelry, and arrogant as hell. From his manner, I suspected that he was living on the edge, perhaps even dealing drugs. I disliked him immediately. “Hey dude, that's a cute chick you got working out front.” “That 'chick' is my wife,” I replied, as I pointed to a chair, noting that my relationship didn't seem to faze him in the least. After five minutes of rambling on about nice looking women, he went on to say, “Some girl accused me of rape... said if I didn't pay her five thousand, she'll file charges. Claims she has a doctor's report.” “That could be a serious charge.” “But, I'm innocent....

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Author: John Laneri

Contributor: Harry Noussias - - How long were they pounding on the door? Lately I have been falling into these very deep and disturbing sleeps. I was not lying in bed when I heard the pounding. I wish I was. I was on the floor. How I got there I don’t know. All I know is that when I awake from these sleeps I can’t remember anything. I did not want to answer the door because I knew what those on the other side would have to say – that I was chosen. At least sleep allowed me, if only for a little while, to escape the horrifying events that were taking place around the village. But, why me? I’m not an investigator. And, I’m surely not a hunter. Besides, I don’t even know what to believe about what was happening. It didn’t really matter to anyone what I thought or felt or believed. The village council voted and I was chosen. So, I...

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Author: Harry Noussias

Contributor: Mark Slade - - The rains came and outside my window the steam overtook the world. As the steam disperses, I can see the dead out on the street staring with their hungry eyes. In my chair, the water rises, covering my boots. My Mother wafts through the water from room to room, dusting the burnt furniture. I wait for the inevitable. It's a happy home. Three naked women lay on my bed having my babies, the umbilical cord keeping them together as sisters. They grit their teeth, foaming at the mouth, rabid in their love. In the dining room a man in a black tuxedo plays piano rolls on a Steinway. His monkey performs voodoo on the Priest giving me my last rites. The Priest finds a match finally, but the candle will not light. So I lift my shirt, black throbbing sores whisper to me their hopes and dreams. The dead have finally...

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Author: Mark Slade

Contributor: Christina Jones - - “You are lovely,” he whispered. “You are trying to win me with flattery,” she giggled. The man was unusually tall with dark brown eyes and black hair. He was enchanting. She met him outside of the local pub. “Oh, I do not have to try to win anything. I can just take what I want,” he replied. With these words, she became startled. The man could see her fear begin to grow. “Why, what ever do you mean?” She asked. With a slight smile, he inched forward and with this step, she moved backwards. His smiled grew bigger. “Well?” She asked. As soon as the word was audible, his mouth was at her throat. Terrified, she started to scream. The man placed his free hand around her neck and began to squeeze. “Shhhh…” he started. “You musn’t make a sound. Otherwise, we will be discovered. You don’t want that...

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Author: Christina Jones

Contributor: Leilanie Stewart - - “Go on. Get lost! This wave-cut platform isn't big enough for two!” “What on earth do you mean?” The lamellibra peered under the hinge line of his protruding umbo at the calcareous shape of the brachiopod next to him, and flipped his upper shell in disgust. “I mean that this part of the oolitic limestone is mine. Mine, you hear? My territory. Take off!” “I don't understand you. We’ve both been here for several millennia sharing this rock and you never had a problem before.” The brachiopod clicked his umbo beak, his quartz glinting in the sun as anger washed over him. “Us? Sharing? I would never fix my pedicle within a million diatoms of a specimen like you.” “What a thing to say! You’re an awfully aggressive fellow, are you not?” “I can say what I want, thank you very much. I’ve been here since the...

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Author: Leilanie Stewart

Contributor: Ray Daley - - "How are we for flags?" he asked the computer. "More than enough left, Captain." responded the machine. The machine was certain the captain thought there was a storage hold somewhere aboard, full of rolled up flags just waiting to be planted on another virgin surface. It didn't want to spoil his illusion, knowing that each flag it delivered to him had been created from a pre-recorded pattern on a replication system. In the hold was nothing, the ships ramscoop collected enough matter to fulfill all daily requirements. "Touchdown Captain." He picked up the flag from the table, secured his helmet and cycled the airlock. "I claim this planet in the name of all the peoples of Earth." He planted the flag pole in the ground securely, a single thrust to ensure it would stay there long after he had died. In his...

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Author: Ray Daley

Contributor: Taylor Saulsbury - - I never cared much about life, never took things seriously. I was selfish and cold, hurting everyone around me with my addiction. That is, until I crossed the Needlepointe Bridge. I remember the way her hair glistened golden-brown in the sunlight. The girl on the ledge radiated beauty. That beauty is what caught my eye; the fact that she was standing on the ledge of the bridge, however, is what stopped me dead in my tracks. I wondered what could ever be so bad that someone would see no way out other than to jump. I couldn’t walk past, knowing that this girl was going to jump. The temperature was easily below freezing, she would be dead the minute she hit the water. I walked over to her, carefully and quietly. I climbed up on the rail beside her and asked her what she was doing there. For a long while,...

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Author: Taylor Saulsbury

Contributor: Rocky Teh - - By and large, most modern elevators are controlled by six or eight motor-driven ropes. This one, shoved into a building slapped together with the budget of a beggar’s takings at the turn of the nineties, had three. A bumbling imitation of the best, it stalled shockingly easily - with nifty fingers you needed little more than a screwdriver and a wrench. The pianist clutched the bag as he waited for the elevator to complete its noisy ascent. He was a tall man and did not - could not, for that matter - let the bag drag on the floor. He shook his head at the state of the building, worlds - and a ten minute drive - from his own office. Lucky I quit while I was ahead. The elevator made no noise to signal its arrival on the eighth storey - only a meek blinking emanation of yellow. Its red doors parted slowly,...

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Author: Rocky Teh

Contributor: Donal Mahoney - - Back in 1957, kissing Carol Ann behind the barn in the middle of a windswept field of Goldenrod with a sudden deer watching was something special, let me tell you. Back then, bobby sox and big barrettes and ponytails were everywhere. Like many farmers, Carol Ann’s father had a console radio in the living room, and every Saturday night the family would gather ‘round with bowls of ice cream and listen to The Grand Ole Opry. It was beamed “all the way” from Nashville I was told more than once since I was from Chicago and sometimes wore a tie so how could I know. On my first visit, I asked Carol Ann if the Grand Ole Opry was the Mormon Tabernacle Choir of country music and she said not to say that to her father. She suggested I just tap my foot to the music and let him watch me. Otherwise, I’d best be quiet...

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Author: Donal Mahoney

Contributor: Philip Lautore - - The first time I rode a bicycle was the day I visited my neighbor, Jeze Cantu. Prior to that, I had always used my own two feet for gettin' around. As I recall, Jeze parked her double wide on the last row of the trailer park. Her model was an Energizer made in Baton Rouge. It came with an extra big bathtub. Right off, I saw the bicycle parked against a tree near her rig. Naturally I headed straight to it, pausing only to bend over and speak to her dog Mildred. About then, I heard Jeze shout, “Shut-up Mildred. You’re makin’ too much noise!” Looking around, I spotted Jeze sprawled on a recliner under a tree. About that time, I heard her say, “Why Justin Wilson, I thought you napped in the afternoons.” “Can’t sleep...it's too hot.” Looking away, I turned my attention to the bicycle. “Fancy bicycle,”...

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Author: Philip Lautore

Contributor: Kristina England - - Jamie pushed her way into the booth, her legs squeaking against the plastic. Henry smiled. "It was the cushion," she said, playing with her bracelet. "Sure." "It was..." "I'm messing with you. Relax..." "I am relaxed." "Sure..." "I hate it when you do that!" "Oh boy... Here we go again." "What's that supposed to mean?" "You can't handle a joke. That's what it means." Jamie's face fell. Henry shook his head. "This is exactly why I broke up with you. You are way too emotional." "Oh, I can't stand it when you use that word. What do you expect when you say something that hurts?" "I don't know what's going to hurt and what's not. I have to think way too much before I talk. It's exhausting..." "I'm sorry... I can do better." "I used to believe that... I mean, I still do... I just don't think you believe it...

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Author: Kristina England

Contributor: Victoria Elizabeth - - The photo landed in the flowerbed, the tiny petals of the annuals embracing it among the HOA-approved red mulch. The elderly couple, frozen in their moment of happiness, hadn’t known that Death, patient as he was, waited in the shadows of their joy, anticipating the occasion to strike. Four months after their fiftieth wedding anniversary, a stroke took the bounce, which had slowed with the years, from Mr. Nielson’s step in an instant. He laid in a coma for two weeks before his adult children finally overruled their grieving mother and pulled the plug. She watched as the last artificially pumped breath escaped and the heart monitor went silent. Death stood and waited. The last remnants of fifty years of love drained from the room, leaving an empty body and an incomplete soul. Life has a funny way...

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Author: Victoria Elizabeth

Contributor: Scott Webb - - Thomas and I walked up and down the rows of tents at Aikman county fair. Thomas was twenty-one now and I was twenty-five. I had always looked after him like a brother and it had been years since we had done anything together. We had been together since we were little kids, and even shared a two-bedroom apartment now. It was because of this closeness that I pretended not to see the bright yellow and purple tent with the words “PRIZES! PRIZES! PRIZES!” painted on a large board along the top of the tent's facade. Thomas ran up to the obnoxiously colorful carnie running this particular sideshow. “Hey Gerry, look at that, cash prizes,” he said as the carnie took notice of us. “Step right up to the game of a lifetime, you’ve never played anything like it,” The Jester-like man said from atop a soapbox. “To play...

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Author: Scott Webb