Quickly, Now, Quickly

Shadows stretch through yellow light, grabbing at her moving outline on the sidewalk. Quickly now, quickly. In her pocket, she slips her middle finger through the ring of her keychain, the metal spines porcupine out from between the knuckles of her tightening fist. Quickly now, quickly. The time between the taps of her heels on the pavement shortens with her breath. Quickly now, quickly. Her ears swim in an ocean of rushing blood. Quickly now, quickly. Behind her, footsteps. Quickly now, quickly. She is almost there. Quickly, now, quickly. She stumbles, falls. Quickly, now, quickly. It is too late.

From Guest Contributor, Laura Fitch

Laura is a writer and a reader of a whole bunch of things. Her fiction and non-fiction has been published in print and online, but she's not about to tell you where. She likes fat cats and wine.

Colonial Malaise

We milled about the tunnel, waiting for instruction. Our day always began this way. No one seemed to have the initiative to do something on his own.

I'm not sure about the others, but my inaction wasn't for lack of impetus. I knew I should be outside gathering food and fighting off invaders. And every day was identical, so our tasks weren't that complicated. It was just that for whatever reason I never felt very motivated. Based on their apathy, my brethren were similarly predisposed.

This was probably the reason why our colony was consistently named the world's worst anthill.

The Statement

He studied the statement in his hand, trying to focus only on the words, not on their meaning. He couldn't think about anything but the words.

He'd been the Emperor for as long as he could remember, since childhood. He'd never been just Glenn. He'd never heard that name spoken, and he'd rarely ever thought about it.

But after he read that statement out loud, Glenn was who he would be from now on.

The Emperor put down the statement and took off his glasses. He wondered how long it would be before the new emperor decided to execute Glenn.

The Tablet Manifesto

The figure appeared out of the fog covered in blood and carrying a large stone tablet. He made it only a few steps towards us, then collapsed.

He was dead before he could be taken to the hospital and he would never be identified. The tablet was remanded into our possession.

At first, we thought it was just a blank piece of stone, but when examined under a microscope, a lengthy manifesto was discovered. It had been recorded in several languages in succession. After careful translation, the meaning became clear.

Boiled down, it read, "Stop being assholes to each other."

Whispers

The whispers tickled her ears as if carried on the wind. She'd turn around, looking for the source, but everyone would be facing lockers or huddled in small groups. Whoever it was, he wanted her to suffer.

She started faking illnesses in order to stay home for school, hoping he would forget her. Yet every time she returned, he was waiting to torment her. The worst part was that he never revealed himself, so she couldn't confide in a teacher or counselor, lest they think she were crazy.

It is this kind of insidious behavior that makes ghosts so frightening.

Shifting The Blame

When Jackie found the caterpillar crawling in her front lawn, it precipitated a world war. The war began with nuclear warheads dropped on several strategic locations, including Jackie's house. She and her parents were killed instantly, without understanding her role in the sudden collapse of human civilization.

Jackie's family lived near a top-secret military installation that was critical to the nation's defense. That caterpillar was a nanobot from an enemy state. When Jackie picked it up, thinking it was an actual bug, the remote handlers panicked.

That did not stop the world for cursing Jackie as it slipped into oblivion.

The Margin Between Here And There

The margin between her final breath and eternity was shorter than she'd been led to believe, barely enough time to comprehend what was happening. She felt herself suffocated by regret and panic and an overwhelming sense of injustice..

There had been one moment when she'd been truly happy.

As her body twisted inside its metal chariot that would drive her forcefully into the afterlife, the airbag slammed away her breath, swallowed up her regrets, bludgeoned her consciousness, until all that was left was that moment.

She wanted to call out to him.

Before she could say goodbye it was over.

Just A Game

Paul steps to the line and takes a deep breath. Were he to sink the next two shots, he will be celebrated globally for the rest of his life. Women will worship him. Children will be named after him. Movies will be made and he'll be the star. His legacy will be forever secure.

If he misses, however, not only will his own life be ruined, but those of an entire city.

The shots miss badly. Death, when it finally comes, will be a mercy for Paul.

And to think there was a time when basketball was just a game.

240th

Baldwin kept careful track of his place in line. It was important that he always know exactly where along the front he was in relation to the enemy. At this moment, he was 240th back. That didn't mean he was going to be the 240th soldier to die. Death was random in war. He'd kept track of enough battles to know that sometimes the 240th person would be shot in the head, and sometimes he'd be injured by shrapnel, and sometimes he'd remain unscathed. There was no pattern, but it still helped him feel in control to do the counting.

Daphne

Daphne had always maintained a strict policy of never doing anything that she was ordered to do. When her mother told her she must always look both ways before crossing the street, she would immediately run headlong into traffic.

As you can imagine, not only did Daphne's attitude make her a difficult employee, but it also put her life in constant danger. So it really should come as no surprise that she died horribly when a paramedic told her to swallow the antidote to the poison she had just defiantly swallowed and she refused.

Very few people attended Daphne's funeral.