On This, That, And The Other

Gina peeled each layer of the onion back like it was a metaphor for her own life. That's why she was disappointed to reach the center and find nothing was there.

This was the danger with metaphors. You may lose control of them so that they take on a life of their own, like a dog that bites the hand that feeds it, or a gift looking a horse in the mouth, and then nothing makes sense anymore.

Or maybe it's not metaphors she's thinking of, but clichés. There is, after all, nothing original about an onion with no meaning.

The Accidental Transcendentalist

Having fallen asleep in one town, Thoreau woke up in another, intent on uncovering what had happened to the organ grinder’s monkey. He did everything he could, but with no electricity, there was very little he actually could do. Meanwhile, the police mistook a man in a green suit walking in the forest for Thoreau. The man confessed right off to visiting the pirate queen in her cave. When Emerson dropped in on Thoreau that afternoon, he had the same question as everyone else, “Is this even real?” which was yet another reason why Thoreau loved trees more than people.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie is the author of I'm Not a Robot from Tolsun Books and A Room at the Heartbreak Hotel from Analog Submission Press.

The Turning Point

The crash jolted them awake, as they careened into the seats in front of them. Later, the doctors would say that the fact they'd been asleep upon impact is what saved them. 27 dead, only two survivors.

The siblings would always look back at that bus crash as the turning point. Not the decision to run away, not what they were running away from, but the accident that sent them to the hospital, months of rehabilitation, and then life in a foster home.

For Megan, it was the perfect escape. For Matthew, he'd forever regret not having died that night.

Next Gas 190 Miles

Genevieve stepped down from her jeep at the lonely fueling station, according to the sign the last chance for services for 200 miles, and smoked a cigarette under the half-dead oak tree. A litany of lizards scurried away as she approached.

She wondered how many drivers stopped here in a day. She had passed maybe half a dozen vehicles the entire morning. She couldn't imagine how the people out here survived so far from civilization.

The old man working the pump had skin as weathered as the geckos' from too much sun. She decided to tip him an extra twenty.

A Visit To Kafka’s Castle

Not just anyone could stay at the castle that claimed in its promotional literature to be Kafka’s birthplace. A person needed a proven reason to be there – in our case, your egg and my semen. I didn't want to rush you, but my Viagra was starting to wear off. You were seeing something no one else had ever seen when the police burst in, waving their nightsticks and demanding, “Who’s the bad man? What does he look like?” This makes everything sound worse than it was, especially as a whale in the harbor was spouting purple music the whole time.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie is on the pavement, thinking about the government.

The Painful Meditations Of A Modern Day Buddha

Kevin enjoyed the contemplation of his morning walks, the perfect ritual for tuning out from his devices. Sure, he'd steal the occasional glance at his phone, but only to ensure he wasn't missing an important message.

By 9am, the sidewalks were normally empty, so when the preteen on his bicycle came wheeling towards him, Kevin was surprised. He expected the kid to move into the grass or skip off the curb, yet he continued straight towards him, until Kevin had no choice but to step aside.

The anger rising inside him at the inconvenience was certain to ruin his day.

The Sparkle On The Horizon

There was a sparkle on the horizon.

It was the only thing keeping him alive. He'd run out of water hours ago, lost his horse soon thereafter, and even destroyed one of his boots when its heel broke off as he attempted kicking through the cracked ground in search of any remnants of moisture. He'd probably lost his sanity at that point too, but who was keeping track?

Yet there was that sparkle. No matter how many steps forward he took, the sparkle remained in place, forever out of reach.

He kept walking anyway. Hope was all he had left.

Last Days Of Summer

Charles Delany stepped off the horse and buggy. In front of him a whiteshingled wood house with a porch, surrounded by an abundance of trees,overlooked the ocean. He removed his hat and walked slowly up thepathway to the porch. He sat on the wooden bench and took it all in,listening to the waves slapping against the fishing dock.

“Okay, son, this’ll be your home for the summer. The doctor said thefresh air and trees are good for your condition.”

Charles nodded and when his father walked away, he coughed clumps of redinto his handkerchief.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

The Machiavellian Necessities Of A Woman On The New York City Subway

For the majority of Deb's daily commutes, she preoccupied herself with the most strategic seat location choice. She normally picked the open space closest to the door. She didn't like standing, when it felt like every male gaze pointed her way, or looking for less populated corners, where some old dude would inevitably decide it was cool to plop their sweaty ass right next to her or, sometimes worse, directly across from her.

Being near the exit provided the comfort of knowing she could quickly escape at any stop, should it ever become necessary.

This necessity was a weekly occurrence.

Chamomile Tea

"I'd like some chamomile tea, please."

"Our specialty."

"It's the only thing on the menu."

"True, but we have many options. There's Roman chamomile, English chamomile, garden chamomile, ground apple chamomile, low chamomile, mother's daisy, whig plant--"

"Just the standard chamomile will be fine."

"Please let me finish. We also have low chamomile, anthémis odorante, anthemis nobilis, chamomile d’Anjou, chamomile noble, chamomile romaine, fleur de chamomile romaine, flores anthemidis, garden chamomile--"

"You already said that one."

"Yes, but most people don't pay attention, so they never notice."

"How much for a cup?"

"Ten dollars. Hold on, where are you going?"