Contributor: Jacob Henry - - The roar of the beautifully restored engine dies and all goes quiet on the abandoned street. The silence is eerie, not even the usual sound of crickets within earshot can be heard. Nine deaths all within the past twenty-nine hours, every one with their bodies mangled and broken, but no pattern to speak of. Men, women, and children have all fallen to the brutal murders. The police have no leads. The only evidence of foul play is an unidentifiable smudge of slime in the form of a handprint at every crime scene. Matt Ramous stares out the window of the old classic car his mentor, Val, helped him restore with some alien modifications. Val is an AI that kept watch over an alien prison filled with thirty-three of the most dangerous prisoners in the known universe. Matt thinks back to when he accidentally released...

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Author: Jacob Henry

Contributor: April Winters - - Remember how it used to aggravate you that I read the newspaper cover to cover? Today would have been a good day to go straight to the comic section and forget the rest. I take a sip of hot coffee as I turn the page and there you are, looking more handsome than I remember. The expression you wear as you look down at your bride is the same one you used to give to me. My vision turns watery; I feel as if I ate one of those huge rocks we saw on the way to Reno. Remember that trip; how you yelped and did some fancy footwork when you put money into that slot machine and the dollar turned into a hundred? You went from man to little boy in seconds, and I was charmed when I watched your happy dance. Memories of the Reno trip trigger others: movies we watched, nightclubs we frequented, the Bon Jovi concert...

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Author: April Winters

Contributor: Jerry Guarino - - “I’d like the corned beef hash, please,” said Tony. “What kind of toast?” said the slightly rotund waiter with the white apron. “Wheat, please.” “Eggs, over easy?” “Yes, that’s fine.” “What kind of juice?” “Cranberry. No, make that orange.” “I can bring you one of each. Coffee?” “No, black tea with milk and sugar.” “And for you, ma’am?” “Just a bagel and cream cheese with coffee, thank you.” “Very good, ma’am.” The waiter wrote down the order, nodded and slipped away. Tony and Barbara were seated at a table in front of the delicatessen. They had a great view of Times Square, already bustling with people by 8am. “See that large glass booth over there, Barbara. That’s where you get the discount tickets for Broadway shows.” “Oooh. There...

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Author: Jerry Guarino

Contributor: Wayne Scheer - - Vera Watkins moved into an abandoned Hummer when the plant outsourced her job and the bank foreclosed on her house. Charlie Pierson interviewed her for the Star-Ledger's final issue. After that, Charlie searched for a job, desperately trying to meet his house payments. He moved to a seedy, pay-by-the-week motel when his house was foreclosed on. The only work either of them could find involved handing out menus for The Life Boat Café.When no other work appeared available, Wearing pirate costumes, complete with eye patch, they barked, "Fine fish to be had at the Life Boat, Matey." They avoided people they knew. When no other work appeared available, Vera slit her wrists and Charlie shot himself in the head. No newspaper was available to publish their obituaries. - - - Wayne Scheer, a past contributor...

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Author: Wayne Scheer

Contributor: Jason Sturner - - She was new again, like she’d been born again, but with the knowledge. Like she had walked down from a mountain: cool skin, fresh thought, light eyes, and a fire burning for life. The past was secondary now. All the old romances turned dust-worthy. All the doubt dispersed. She was ready to face the world with open arms; to follow every step she took into a forward, sun-splashed direction. Love would not shove her away, not anymore—it was her ambition to curl up in its silky arms. It was her walk towards paradise, her vintage wine longing for a taste—and she could taste it now, on the lips of her subconscious; it was bittersweet, like strawberries. “I love myself. I love my life. Love surrounds me and love will follow me.” She spoke those words at every corner of every day. They launched her over obstacles...

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Author: Jason Sturner

Contributor: Ray Daley - - When we first found the new world, it fascinated us. It had water across much of its surface, most unlike our home. Our home is mainly plains, valleys and desert. What little water there is exists as underground rivers, aquifers and the occasional oasis. We are the people. Our life is simple, we hunt, we gather, we explore. Much like our ancient ancestors who travelled all across our world in the endless pursuit of food, water and shelter. The most simple things but most important to sustaining life. We do the same, even fifty centuries later. But we do them in space, across the myriad galaxies. We find worlds, we seek out new food sources, plants and seeds that we can bring back home. Our probe ships are autonomous, they know our needs and fulfill them as best as possible. Mapping each new world like...

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Author: Ray Daley

Contributor: Jerry Guarino - -     Tony poured 32 ounces of hot water over loose Earl Grey tea into his clear glass teapot.  He toasted a fresh slice of homemade brown bread and spread raspberry jam on top, then took both to his writing desk where his computer was playing new age music.  Summer vacation was his favorite time of the year, away from the classroom, with time to catch up on diversions and fantasies.     The sky was cloudy and the cool air glided through his window, the weather he liked best.  Tony closed his eyes to capture the full sense of the cool air.       The doorbell interrupted his peaceful state.  Who could that be?  Tony opened the door and was greeted by a beautiful young woman, maybe 24.  “Excuse me sir.  We’re collecting...

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Author: Jerry Guarino

Contributor: Donal Mahoney - - I met a proper woman in a proper pub on a Monday in Peoria. It was noon, time for lunch, and we were sitting stool to stool over very large burgers at a long mahogany bar. It curved in and out as if wind-swept and featured high stools with padded seats and backrests, all in a rich faux maroon that complemented the authentic mahogany. The waiter had put us at the bar together, on the last two empty stools, thinking we had arrived there as a couple. Apologizing with his head bowed, he said no tables were available. The place was awash in men who had obviously spent a lot of time in the sun. They were talking agri-business very loud. Plaid shirts and John Deere caps were everywhere. Apparently, the price of pork that day had hit new highs and that event seemed to delight the majority of diners. It was obvious...

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Author: Donal Mahoney

Contributor: Chris Sharp - - “But you’ll have to leave in three days. Here, I have a legal notice for you. Three days or quit, it says. That’s all there is to mention. If you come up with the rent in the three days, you get another month. Then I want you out of my house in any case.” His landlady left him before he could answer. She had taped the “three days or quit” notice on the wall, above his chair where his cat sat. It didn’t look that much like a legal notice. It looked more like something she bought at Office Depot. But his cat had total faith in him and paid no attention to the flimsy paper note hanging over her. He stepped out of the house and took his 23-year-old good health with him. For a moment he wished for a car so he could escape somewhere. But he had sold the car three months ago to release some money for rent. He...

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Author: Chris Sharp

Contributor: LA Sykes - - 'We've been so good together ain't we? Tonight, as we've been lying here I just know we've made the right choice my darling. Looking back, I swear to the Lord I believe we were made for each other, you know? Made, just to be as one. After all we've shared it could never have been down to pure chance, it just wouldn't make sense. What a ride we've had my love.' 'Hold me tighter beautiful. That's better. I know what you're saying sweet pea, the way I see it, you'll always be a hell of a wild ride.' 'I'm serious mister, stop fooling around in such a serious conversation.' 'Okay, sorry my love. I know what you're saying, I think the same. Too perfect to be pure co-incidence. You know, I still see the first time we met in my dreams. When I ain't drank, sober sleep you know? What a place the old Miner's Arms was,...

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Author: LA Sykes

Contributor: Donal Mahoney - - Zenobia Jackson told Officer Murphy that her husband, Rufus, was "a wonderful man when he was awake" but for years he had been jerking "something terrible" during his sleep and had kept waking her up. He'd swing his arms, she said, like those martial arts men he liked to watch on television. When the bouts were over, he'd give her a big kiss on the forehead and go to bed. "Oh, he was just a doll," she said, "when he was awake." In the last month, however, Rufus had fallen out of bed three times "fighting" in his dreams. In the morning he'd tell her he'd been dreaming that he was back in Vietnam. Sometimes he dreamt he was shooting at burglars breaking into their house in the old neighborhood. That's why they had to move to a different neighborhood and why he bought a gun, a little pistol he kept under...

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Author: Donal Mahoney

Contributor: Tony Conaway - - Water. Food. Shelter. Sex. They say these represent our most instinctual drives. However, for some of us, there is another, stronger drive: the need to prove that we know. I am a scientist, but it’s more than that. It’s not enough for me to know all sorts of obscure and irrelevant facts. I have to let you know that I know. This intense need to prove that you know something is stronger than the need for food, stronger than the survival instinct, even stronger than the sex drive. Let me give an example. Recently, I took a young lovely to a production of La bohème. She loved it. She wept during “Musetta’s Waltz.” (And I managed to avoid telling her that Bobby Worth adapted “Musetta’s Waltz” into a pop song called “Don’t You Know?” which became a hit for Della Reese in 1959. I was planning to save...

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Author: Tony Conaway

Contributor: Jerry Guarino - -     On a recent road trip to Canada, I discovered a most unusual business in Oregon.  Fireworks.  I’m not talking about the stands they have in other states, where you can pick up some sparklers, firecrackers and bottle rockets.  No, in Oregon they have thrown out the public safety ordinances cities usually impose on explosives.  In fact, they seem to embrace it.  Huge tents, the size of a Ringling Brother’s circus, house millions of implements of destruction from the iconic firecracker to something comparable to C4, napalm and nuclear missiles.     But the most intriguing aspect of this free-for-all business was that for the most part, these huge tents are manned (uh, womaned?) by teenage girls; school clubs, sports teams, cheerleaders; all the...

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Author: Jerry Guarino