Frontier Wedding

The ship glided into the harbor, though to call the pair of ramshackle docks a harbor was about as generous as calling the leaky coastal steamer a ship. As with everything in here, the practical concern was always whether something got the job done, with never a consideration for aesthetic appearances.

This was exactly why Hannah had elected to make the voyage. She may not have been the prettiest to look at, but she got the job done. And despite her family's wealth, the only suitors she'd been presented with had been incompetent blowhards.

She'd rather marry a sled dog.

For the prompt Frontier

Rock Star, Jr.

Dad’s a rock star. You know the type. Wild hair. Leather pants. Naked-lady tattoos. He’s never around for any father-and-son stuff, always away on some sold-out stadium tour.

For my 12th birthday, he gave me one of his old Gibsons. He didn’t have time to show me any chords, so I taught myself. I’ve been practicing every day.

He’s coming home after six months on the road, and I can’t wait for him to hear all the amazing riffs I’ve learned.

Because even if he doesn’t think a son deserves his attention, he’s got to appreciate a fellow musician, right?

From Guest Contributor Lori Cramer

Cosmic Illumination

“Northern lights?” Jonathan pointed skyward.

“No. Stardust. We’re too far south for Northern Lights,” replied Dad.

They viewed the spectacle in awe.

“I want to be an astronaut when I grow up,” Jonathan stated.

“I know. You say that often enough.”

“What are you making?”

“Cosmic pudding,” answered Dad, pouring water into a foil bag.

His son’s face changed from fascination to frustration.

“What’s tomorrow’s supper?” Jonathan asked.

“Hamburgers.”

“Real hamburgers?”

“Real, but with pita bread. Buns would cause floating crumbs, a major hazard in a spacecraft.”

“Dad, where’s the nearest burger place?”

“Thought you want to be an astronaut.”

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

On And On And On

On the fifth anniversary of his father’s heroic death in a far-off jungle, a nine-year-old boy pleads and screams as he’s dragged into a tool shed by his drunken stepfather.

On the twenty-fifth anniversary, the boy, reeking of cheap whisky and cigarettes, staggers into his daughter’s bedroom while the young girl cowers against the wall.

On the fifty-eighth anniversary, that girl collapses into her lightless closet, and as her fury-laced glares and impaling shouts become anguished sobs, her teenage daughter sits alone in the bathroom and once again glides the thin, comforting edge of a razor blade across her thigh.

From Guest Contributor J. Paul Ross

Nothing Unusual

Rayette answered the early morning cellphone call from Ralph.

“Look out your window, Rayette.”

They lived close to one another in Northeast Philadelphia and shared pretty much the same view of the sky and the rest of the Universe.

“Do you see it? I'm pretty sure this time.”

She checked.

“No, Ralph, it's not a UFO.”

“I think I see one.”

She rechecked.

“How many times do I have to tell you there’re no such things as UFOs. You're wrong.”

“Not a flying saucer, huh?”

“No… Can't you see it’s only Superman zipping back-and-forth.”

“Nothing unusual?”

“No.”

“Only Superman?”

“Exactly.”

From Guest Contributor David Sydney

Scarf

A silky white scarf sits on Kate’s hope chest, a gift from her mother resurfacing memories; the laughter of family and friends filling the room, the sound of voices singing happy birthday, and the gifts. The most precious, the scarf. It had been handed down by her grandmother to her mother and now Kate.

On her sick bed, Kate’s mother, with little strength, placed the scarf around her daughter’s neck and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. She wiped away a tear rolling down Kate’s cheek.

As Kate places the scarf around her neck, she feels her touch.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Cruel

On our Saturday morning walk, my daughter found a baby bird that had fallen out of its nest.

"Can we take it home?"

"I think it's dead, sweetheart." When I explained what that meant, she didn't seem too bothered and I thought the matter forgotten.

A few days later, my ex-wife called to say she'd had to meet with Chelsea's teacher after school. "She got in trouble for making two of her classmates cry."

"What did she do?"

"She told them that God is cruel and kills those who deserve it least."

"Weird. I wonder where she got that from."

Long Enough

David kept asking, “Whose funeral is it?”

His daughter replied, “Mom's.”

Minutes later he said, “Whose funeral is it?”

“Mom's.” Each reply earned the same quiet nod.

When the service ended, mourners drifted away. David stepped beside the casket. He slipped off his wedding band. “You'll need this,” he whispered to the casket. “Take good care of it.”

The daughter blinked back tears.

He smiled faintly, patted the casket, and walked on. Halfway down the path, he stopped. “Whose funeral is it?”

His daughter slipped her arm through his, and they walked slowly toward home beneath silent autumn trees together.

From Guest Contributor E. Barnes

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

Dive Night

From the street, the Cowpony looks like a generic Tucson bar. Nondescript, squat, windowless. Cowboy silhouette on the exterior.

Gerry and I wander inside. The back room features an empty pool table. I rack the balls. Gerry breaks them, sinks the eight ball. Decrepit characters wait beside the bar for karaoke to begin. They leer at us and wink.

“This place reminds me of my misspent youth,” I say.

Gerry thumbs through the karaoke catalog. “Let’s stay a while. There’s a Steely Dan song I want to sing.”

I settle into the booth. It’s going to be a long evening.

From Guest Contributor Leah Mueller

The Opera

I met Katherine at the opera, where I’d shared a box with her and her partner, a tall brute of a man. During the interval, they rowed; he stormed out. After the finale, Katherine and I went back to my place.

The next morning, as we were leaving my flat, a big Merc pulled up next to us. Her boyfriend sat in the front passenger seat, face like thunder.

I had a feeling of dread when two swarthy-faced, black leather-jacketed men jumped out, bundled her into their car, and drove off with her. She was never ever seen again.

From Guest Contributor Val De Vere