Spooky Girlfriend

My friends don't like my girlfriend. They say all the same stereotypical bullshit, mostly revolving around how she's crazy and I'm crazy to be dating her. I think they're just intimidated by an older woman.

I should say they are ex-friends, because I rarely see them anymore. I spend most of the time at my girlfriend's house. Who wouldn't want to? She lives in the old mansion at the top of the hill. The same house we used to say was haunted when we were kids.

It's not really haunted. You just have to get used to all the ghosts.

Safe?

The train came to a halt, and the platform filled with German police. They entered, and people quieted while my heart pounded.

“Papers!”

I handed my identification to the Nazi, and he scanned them, eyeing me at the same time as I sweated profusely. He tossed them on my lap and moved on, not noticing the forgery.

Screams ensued as the woman behind me beseeched the officer to let her husband go, and then I heard a thud. The Man had collapsed, presumably dead and the woman in hysterics was taken away.

A few more stops and I’ll be safe.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Old Friend

I remember a much younger you, so energetic, so easily scared, so cheaply won over by a treat.

I remember you running in open fields until you realize how far away you are, then running just as fast back to me.

I remember the vet telling me you had cancer, and the impending darkness I endured for two years. When he admitted his mistake I wanted to be mad but couldn’t be. Those years were a gift.

I cherish all the hours that remain to us. I will carry you as far as you are willing and eager to go.

Wrecking Ball

It's a metaphor for wanton destruction, indiscriminate, total. It levels everything in sight, out with the old, room for the new, the outset of a revolution.

But a wrecking ball is just a machine. A big one to be sure, yet still a tool, a vehicle, a spare part--the last one that needs replacing. It's not the ball doing the annihilation, but the driver. It's not the driver, but the foreman, or the one percent, or the unbearable weight of social change.

It's just a giant piece of forged steel. It's just the end of everything you've ever known.

Don't Start Now

Christine clenched the sides of the arm chair to stifle a scream. She'd just broken up with Eric after three years of disregard laced with open disdain. For most of their relationship, she was expecting him to break things off himself for how little he seemed to care. The thought had both upset her and enticed her at the same time.

She'd finally found the courage herself and now he was saying he'd be better from now on. She knew he was lying, to himself if not to her.

The worst part was she wanted to give him another chance.

Feel Good, Inc.

The instructions were supposed to be quite simple to follow, but to Charlie the line drawings could have been hieroglyphs for all the sense they made. In frustration, he tore open the packaging and pushed out one capsule after another, swallowing each with a large mouthful of water.

After a few minutes, his anxiety began melting away, replaced by a pleasant euphoria he hadn't felt in ages. Whatever had been bothering him no longer mattered.

Someone called out from a great distance, using a name he didn't recognize. They seemed very upset. He held out his last few pills invitingly.

Is It A Lie?

Anna walks in and out of alleys to avoid the Gestapo, hiding bread and cheese under her coat to feed the Jewish child she is hiding.

Anna, a Catholic, met Helena in the neighborhood when they were children and have been friends ever since. When news broke that Hitler would be sending the Jewish to camps, Anna immediately took her friend’s daughter into hiding.

She makes it home without incident. Anna hurries upstairs to the attic and pushes the latch open.

Anna takes the girl in her arms and tells her everything will be all right.

Is it a lie?

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Desert Tide

Millions of years ago, this desert lay at the bottom of an ocean. The sand I'm walking on is the crushed bones of our ancestors, lost to time except for the polynucleotide chains twisted inside of us. Their collective memories have been encoded inside me. Had they not lived and died, I would not exist.

The desert stretches out of sight in all directions. It might never end for all I know. Even if I could arrive at the other side, how would I know I was there. You never know when you've reached the end. You can only guess.

Authority

I know only one enemy in this world, that person who holds power over me. No matter how slight the exercise of authority, how minor the inconvenience, any attempt to coerce me in any manner, even if I would have otherwise been inclined to act in the desired fashion, will be met with the strongest disagreement within my power.

You insist I should eat more vegetables. I will only be eating meat from now on. I am a rebel. I am the rebellion. Tell me what to do one more time, and I'll be the leader of a third-grade revolution.

Fantasy Winners

Were the Newtown Bluebirds getting worse? Their last loss was 19-0. The one before that, 17-0.

Coach Mel Fromberg, at the practice field, addressed the Little Leaguers.

"Winners. We're going to be winners."

“Close your eyes, everybody. "

It was to be a group-fantasy-session.

"See yourself as a winner. Then, see the whole team of winners…"

"Eddie? A winner?" Steve Bramwell, the second-baseman, said he couldn't see it.

Eddie Franklin, the shortstop, said the same of Steve.

"Try again," demanded Mel, his eyes still closed. But Steve? Eddie? The Bluebirds? Winners? What kind of task had Mel set for them all?

From Guest Contributor David Sydney