Jobs For Humans

The android smiled at Brad. "Did you enjoy your work day last week?"

"Watching androids build walls? Are there any jobs where I actually dosomething?"

The android paused. "A day as a headmaster at a school?"

Later, another android greeted Brad at the school gates. "Mr Earnshaw,come this way."

"What will I be doing?"

"You'll be giving the human day teachers a motivational talk on howimportant their role is."

"Do they teach?"

"The children are busy with android led classes."

Brad was stood in front of a room of bored humans, and left to do his job.

From Guest Contributor Ross Clement

A Viking Burial

"Who does this anymore?" Joshua asked. "A viking burial -- is it even legal?"

I looked out at the lake, its opposite shoreline no longer visible under the moonless night sky. The family lake house was well secluded, shrouded in forest nearly twenty miles thick.

"It's what he would have wanted," I answered, glancing down at the lifeless figure in the wooden canoe, hands gracefully folded, with a wreath of crumpled newspaper haloing his head.

With a heavy sigh, Joshua waded the canoe out to water as I lit several matches. He smirked.

"Feels like cheating, without the bow and arrow."

From Guest Contributor Amanda S.

Death's Splendid Gifts

Death and beauty were bound by love.

Its strength bore them two children in turn.

A prophet, intuitive and quick.

A defender, strong and kind.

Content together, all offered their talents so the world could partake of their bliss.

Beauty blessed creation, allowing all to enjoy its earthly splendor.

The prophet gave insight to decipher and atone for man's errors.

The defender offered courage and strength to the masses.

Death bestowed his touch to all, releasing them from life's toil.

Under their hand, humanity found constants, forever extant as long as man lived.

All inevitable, all wondrous and all binding.

From Guest Contributor Michelle Vongkaysone

Spending A Penny Dreadful

The Fleadh Ceoil festival was at its height. Those who hadn’t arrived early were relegated to rural camp-sites.

Still, even on the outskirts of the small Kerry village the women’s toilets were dutifully labelled with the Gaelige ‘MNA.’ It wouldn’t do for traditional/folk festivals to be less than authentic.

The next generation of the attending family carnivals had finished their setting-up chores and, thankful of the break, watched with some amusement as the drunk approached with strained gait and increasing urgency until finally bursting into the ‘Ladies,’ zip down.

Screams.

"Must be a wil’ handling being dyslexic," one mused.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid

Predestiny

It was a typical thing for him to say on a first date. “In the future, if we both find a way to travel back in time, we should agree to go back to now, right now, at precisely 8.00pm. Then we will know for certain if it is possible. Deal?”

As she answered, a loud crash startled the couple. Covering their ears from the terrifying screeches, they peered through the restaurant window to a display of smoke, sparks and flashing lights.

She held his hand tightly. Within the twisted frames of metal, lay the scorched bodies of two travelers.

From Guest Contributor JR Hampton

Mall Christmas

Christmas shoppers crush the mall their noisy chatter drowning out tinny holiday music. Fairy lights glimmer from boughs bedecked with fusty smelling red bows. At the epicenter of the mayhem is Santa Claus, surrounded by dingy fluffy snow. Corralling people into a staggering line, the elves keep order as Santa's beard is yanked -- it's real! -- and wishes whispered in his ear. A ruffled and flustered child heads for the over-sized presents next to Santa's worn throne. Ripping shiny paper away, the child's eyes fill with tears -- it's empty! A quick-thinking elf offers a fat orange. Tears gone. Christmas is saved!

From Guest Contributor D. K. White-Atkinson

Discovery

The light was dim and in the blue to purple spectrum, but he could barely keep his hands from shaking. There between trembling fingers, was the first synthetic bioluminescent bulb.

He thought he heard a creak in the darkness. The deeper shadows of conspiracy theories crossed his field of vision like eye-floaters: fears that some capitalist cadre would send black ops to assassinate him and ‘disappear’ his research. Beads of sweat chilled along his spine.

Then he noticed a reddish glow from one of the beakers on the bench: one containing a slightly different formula. The scientist chased the child.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid

The True Legend Of Santa Claus

Most people are familiar with the Christmas legend of Santa Claus and his reindeer. But only a few know of an alternative legend, about a time long ago in a place far away. That Santa Claus rode a bright red and green dragon. He flew across the countryside looking for those who displeased him. He would then torch their houses, leaving only the stone chimney still standing.

In order to avoid such a fate, the people would leave out offerings for Santa Claus, hoping their gifts would be enough to direct his attention elsewhere. Thus, the Christmas season was born.

The Cookie Jar

Leon sat across the kitchen table, gulping down instant coffee and looking everywhere but at Jaclyn. He was late for work, again, and spoke of nothing else. The toaster pinged and he bustled away.

She felt that their love was like a cookie jar. At first it was full of unexpected treats: crumbly sweetness with sticky jam fillings, dark chocolate coated crunchy goodness, and much, much more.

Now she felt that if she turned the jar upside down and shook it, there might be a few crumbs in there. But it would be too much effort for too little return.

From Guest Contributor Ross Clement

Karaoke Superstar

The sweaty man standing behind the microphone had been a pop star of some renown once upon a time, many years ago. Everyone in the room, even those paying more attention to their drinks than the immolation occurring in the corner of the hazy bar, could tell the man had the voice of an angel. One or two heads turned, thinking the man sounded somehow familiar even though they couldn’t quite place him. A woman, half drunk, nodded a buzzed nod and winked at the man, who barely noticed her, so focused was he on finishing this one last song.

From Guest Contributor Dan Slaten