Ruthless

Dr. Sheila Fabiana, PHD., surveyed the water with her binoculars, looking for signs of predation. Sharks patrolled these waters. Her current task was to record their feeding behavior and keep track of various data related to hunter and prey.

She did not have to wait long.

People think of sharks as ruthless killers, incapable of pity or empathy. Dr. Fabiana believed this was an unfair characterization. People are generally able to feel pity for the unfortunate and empathize with others, including both humans and animals.

Sharks are literally incapable of pity or empathy. Ruthless by definition, but are they really?

A Far Worse Fate

“I’m sorry, your majesty,” squeaked mouse, prostrate in the straw.

The great lion sighed.

“When I saved you, I laughed at your offer. Now I am caught in this cage I can laugh no more.”

“My brothers and sisters will set you free,” promised the tiny mouse.

“This cage is electrified,” explained the lion. “Chew these bars and you’ll die.”

“So you are fated then to be a head on a wall?” wailed the mouse in disbelief.

“No little one,” sighed the lion. “My fate’s far worse.”

The Circus Train gave a shrill whistle as it pulled into the station.

From Guest Contributor Tim Law

Die A Little Death

I'd told everyone I knew what I was doing. A real pro. So when the sound system had a connection problem and no one could hear the introductory speaker, my heart dropped instantly. Not because of the mishap. I could talk my way out of a mishap.

Rather, I had no idea what might be wrong. My boss was going to kill me if I didn't get this fixed immediately.

I frantically tested every possible combination of cable and jack hoping for a miracle.

At least the electric shock that killed me happened quickly enough I never felt a thing.

Truth

The doors open and the bridal party makes their entrance, the music resonating throughout the church. The women shine in their baby blue gowns and the bride, Belle, arm in arm with her dad, shines. Her white gown with sequined embroidery catches the eyes of the onlookers, as her father smiles and leads his daughter to the groom. My stomach churns. I can’t let this wedding happen knowing the truth.

Once the priest gives his wedding sermon the vows begin. When he asks if anyone objects, I hastily stand.

The room, aghast over the disruption, waits for me to respond.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Sweetest Decline

Autumn evenings hit different. You know the season because of how the air cools your sun-burnt skin, and you crave melting into the breeze. Insect music dances across the same wind as your smile. The scent of decay tantalizes with its promise of the most peaceful hibernation. Surrounded by abundance, knowing there's more than you can ever hope to enjoy.

Smile. You have friends to share it with.

I fall asleep, a big spoon in a drawer with just enough silverware for a single meal. Remember to wash it after every use and one spoon is enough to last a lifetime.

I Just Don't Think I'll Ever Get Over You

It's been three months since you died, but it could have been three days or three years. This time, this forever after, is something separate from our former life. Some people thought you a burden, but I was a volunteer, an eager one at that.

Life with you was never a burden. You provided clarity. Companionship. Purpose. The meaning of selflessness.

Now, this existence, this is the burden. Having to live without you is the burden. Not because this life is bad. But because your absence overwhelms even the best moments.

You are the best friend I will ever have.

A Diner Problem

Ralph and Rayette were at breakfast, with Ralph treating. He called the waiter over to their booth with its plywood table top.

“Is something the matter?”

“I'll say...Rayette, here, just saw another fly by her oatmeal."

Ralph had the eggs, and Rayette the oatmeal.

“What kind of place is this that has so many flies?”

“Many? What’d you mean by ‘many’?”

Rayette said she saw about five, maybe six of them.

Dismissively the waiter frowned.

“Six? You think six flies is a lot? You should see the number of ‘em in the kitchen...Especially around the pot of oatmeal.”From Guest Contributor David Sydney

Ripped To Bits By Ghosts

I moved into my workshop, with a gas-ring and pair of chickens in a cage. I needed no assistants. I watched the sky from a hilltop laboratory, harnessing the lightning.

In reality I sleep under the stairs in my friends’ flat. He’s a motorcycle courier, she’s a receptionist. I work where I can, wherever the agency sends me, seven days a week. If I’m ill I rely on her noticing and bringing me soup or something. I have a notebook to record my dreams. Huge flights of geese turn furrows through the red November skies. Worlds can barely contain me.

From Guest Contributor Geoff Sawers

The Broken Rose

Scott retraces the events of that evening to understand what went wrong. Candles were lit. Dinner reservations at Jen's favorite restaurant. A dozen red roses.

The evening now over, all his plans in ruins, trying to lay blame seems besides the point. Telling himself that he was innocent of any wrongdoing doesn't change the fact that not only has his girlfriend of exactly five years walked out on him forever, but has also resulted in his house being destroyed and his car being driven over a cliff.

A single broken rose is all he has left to remember her by.

Who Am I?

When my parents told me the news that I was adopted, it didn’t shock me. I knew that I was different. I have black hair and deep brown eyes, and both my parents have hazel eyes and blond hair. I was told I took after my grandfather who died before my time. Conveniently, no one had pictures.

I decided to track my biological parents. Now we’re meeting for the first time at their home, and I have a lot of questions.

I stood outside pondering whether to go in since I may not like the answers.

I turned and left.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher