King Of The Court

Every afternoon, Marcus ruled the court. Sneakers squeaked as he crossed defenders, launched impossible threes, and hammered dunks that rattled the rim. His friends groaned while commentators crowned him a legend. He knew every hesitation, every perfect release, every seam in the opponent's defense. He was lightning—untouchable, unstoppable, airborne.

When the final buzzer sounded, the crowd’s roar thinned to a mechanical hum. “Marcus, dinner’s ready,” his mom called from the kitchen.

“Coming,” he answered, while unlocking the brakes on his wheelchair, gripping the rims of the wheels and pushing himself back from his desk. Beyond the doorway, reality waits.

From Guest Contributor E. Barnes

E. has work published at A Story In 100 Words, Spillwords, The Purple Pen, The Haven, and Medium.

So Complicated

Harry wiped his brow as he stood before the giant flaming gates. Looking over his shoulder, the entrance to heaven beckoned, with thousands of newly dead souls waiting to be sorted in between.

"Next."

Harry was jostled to the front of the line.

"Will you be contesting your designation to hell?"

"Yes!"

"Very well. Fill out the following in triplicate." He held an aggressively thick stack of forms. "Every claim will need written evidence. One mistake, and you start over. Or you can skip the whole ordeal and enter hell immediately."

As in life, dead Harry chose the easier option.

War

I watched as my buddy exploded into fragments from a grenade. I saw the fear on his face knowing at that moment, he would die. It was chaotic and when I ran for cover, I thought he was behind me, but he stayed to help an injured soldier to safety. Now, both are gone.

I’m in the trench shaken, wishing I were anywhere else but here.

I heard the tanks roaring, and men yelled, guns ready in hand.

My ears rang; head pounded with all sound, until everything became muffled, and my right hand shook uncontrollably.

Then came the explosion.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Jealousy As An Occupation

Lisa has a hard time explaining her job. To be fair, she might have a harder time believing it herself.

"People hire me to be jealous of them. Sometimes I write a bunch of comments on their socials saying how I wish I could be more like them. Or I might burst in on a client while he's on a date begging for him to take me back because he's the best thing that's ever happened to me. It's a great boost to their self-esteem."

"And they pay you for this?"

"I'm really good at wishing I were someone else."

#Blemished

The comments hit hard. @keybrdwar58 wrote “Pepperoni face.” Certified rage baiter @uplinegeek’s “Wear a mask” got fifteen likes, zero from me. Ouch! Why did @soyzgalz comment “Get a life” just because I asked for advice? @vawaxayaz replied “Boomer talk.” Merci @vawaxayaz. She’s a skinfluencer. Now if she could please give me a follow back. Maybe she’ll ghost me. If she’s not a pretty deepfake bot, bet she uses AI-smooth filters. Like who doesn’t? Anyway, this is the last time I’ll ask for derma advice on Insta. Gotta have thick skin. Girls with thick skin don’t get pimples. There’s my problem.

From Guest Contributor Elizabeth Murphy

I Believe In Dragons

It might seem controversial, but I have a strong belief that dragons actually exist. You might think me insane or desperately naive, a sufferer of what is colloquially known as wishful thinking. Or perhaps you believe I'm of a more metaphorical bent, and my optimistic nature and love of the imagination means I hold a place in my heart for the fantastical. I surely couldn't be speaking literally.

If that's the case, I promise you I am most serious when I say I believe in dragons. In fact, one is staring at me this very moment, ready to breathe fire.

Dairy Reinvented

“Our regional cows have been highly productive,” beamed Norm, supervising an employee unload dairy products for customers.

But where were they?

The regulars showed up. Tourists trickled in as they did elsewhere in the vacationland—unlike booming pre-pandemic times. Did the current political climate have a bearing?

After days of dismal turnout, Norm called his staff for a meeting.

“Put up a new display poster,” he instructed. “Half price: ALL dairy!

A sampling counter was set up, manned by an employee.

Sales accelerated. Many shopping carts left the grocery store with dairy. Late comers found the refrigerated section emptied out.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Machine Music

"Why do I have to learn piano if in five years all music's going to be made by AI anyway?"

Gale generally enjoyed his life as a piano instructor, but his sessions with Kimberly were an exception. She was the kind of student who constantly wasted his time and purposefully avoided practice, so even her warm up scales grated on his nerves.

"AI doesn't know the first thing about writing actual music. It's just a bunch of sounds that vaguely resembles a real song. Art can't be created by a machine."

"But my biology teacher says humans are machines too."

Snow Storm

It’s freezing and I’m stranded on a back road with no cell service and a raging snow storm. In my defense, the snow was light when I started driving and this is not what the weather forecast predicted. I’m pinned in the car and can’t move. My chest aches, most likely from the impact, and my left leg is throbbing. It must be fractured. I’m too weak and cold to move and I’m afraid if I try to, I’ll hurt myself more. All I can do is wait and pray.

Is that lights ahead?

“Miss, are you okay?”

I’m rescued.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

The Steward

Rebecca and I drove up the long gravel way until it crested a small ridge and our new home came into view. She sucked in her breath, shocked by the magnificence of the old mansion.

"I haven't been here in thirty years. Nothing's changed."

She squeezed my hand, in excitement or perhaps disbelief. The estate belonged to my grandfather, then my uncle, and now me, a string of unfortunate deaths leaving me the only heir.

My anticipation ceased when I saw Bidwell waiting to greet us.

"What's wrong?"

"The steward. He died in the same accident that killed my uncle."