The Monster That Never Sleeps

They called it the monster that never sleeps. Hundreds had been killed before scientists determined it needed light to survive. The problem being, in a city as modern as Tokyo, there was always light.

Tokyo's leading scientists, led by Dr. Hashimoto, came up with a plan to kill the light monster. They would cut off all power in the entire city at the same time, while making sure every citizen turned off every light source in their home.

The plan would have worked. Unfortunately, Toshi Takahashi decided to keep playing his PSP during the blackout.

All of Tokyo was destroyed.

The Best Of Everything

The translators were the most advanced units available. Miranda had insisted on that. Unfortunately, they hadn't been fully tested yet and were still buggy.

As Miranda waited for what Jergen had said to be translated, she glanced about nervously. It was embarrassing to have all eyes focused on the two of them while they waited for the machine. Perhaps her father had been right, and the old translator would have been the better choice.

But it was her wedding day and she deserved to have the best of everything.

Now the priest was speaking more gibberish. Miranda wanted to cry.

Smashed Glass

You remember: a blurry red light darting across the sky; the glossy road and its skewed mirror of your forehead; flashes of light into the eyes of a man in a hat, crossing the street. He remembers: two tons of steel collapsing from a rooftop, crushing his best friend flat. All that was left were two blue fingers and the smell of dust. The building remembers: the bones and bricks who made it strong, the lightning and rain licking its sides; burst out windows, a fire devouring from within like a disease. The fire remembers being the thing that burned.

From Guest Contributor, Jeremy S. Griffin

Jeb And Gerold

Jeb thought he was safe for the time being; then he heard something:

“Who's there?”

“Someone trying to stay alive.”

Jeb peered and saw someone. He crept forward, cradling his rifle.

The young man sat on some hay, his legs spread out, arms back.

“Go ahead, shoot.”

Jeb came up, and sat across from the Yankee.

“Not yet. How did you get caught in this mess?”

“I could ask the same about you.”

They looked at each other, forming similar thoughts.

“We could die tonight, you know,” said Jeb.

“Life's too precious for that.” They leaned forward, and then kissed.

From Guest Contributor, Dycen Alexander

Unwanted Eye Contact

He hadn't meant to glance up. It was just the sudden noise had involuntarily caused a slight eye motion. It was not a mistake he made often. He was just unlucky that today he found himself staring into her eyes.

He looked down immediately. Eye contact was a major breach of etiquette and he prayed she hadn't noticed. It could hardly have lasted longer than a few milliseconds. Perhaps if he pretended nothing...

The blow to the side of his head came suddenly. "I did not pay good money to the slave dealer only to be eye-raped by a human."

iPad

"There,” she said as she quietly used me. Etching away with her instrument of pain, a black pen. It was supposed to be pressure sensitive but it was I who was forced to feel it. I always knew in my heart that it would stop, eventually… She would either tire of me or I would fall into the deep darkness of sleep. The only question left is which would come first? Could I manage to hold out? Or would some kind soul save me from this hell, distracting her while I drift off? This is my life, I endure, iPad.

From Guest Contributor, Erik Menches

He Dreamed Betrayal

Allen awoke from his morning dream reluctantly because he didn't want to face the disturbing reality of what it might mean.

Why had he been kissing his best friend's wife? He'd known Samantha for years, and in fact had been at the party when she first met Tim. They were perfect together. Did this dream mean that he secretly had feelings for her.

Sure, he'd been sleeping with Samantha for months, but that was just sex. It didn't mean anything. Yet what if he actually had some affection for her. That would be a betrayal of his friendship with Tim.

There Lies The Gun

There lies the gun.

After years of gathering information, months of undercover work, weeks of planning tonight's sting, and hours of waiting for the motorcade to arrive, the situation has unravelled.

There lies the gun.

The gun is the only weapon within easy reach. They both know it. As soon as one of them makes a move, they'll both lunge for it, and then one of them will be shot.

There lies the gun.

A flinch, and they are fighting. Neither was quick enough.

There lies the gun.

By now the President is most likely dead.

There lies the gun.

Beautiful George

It's hard to believe, but there was a time in the early 21st century when serious art had fallen out of fashion. Everything was pop culture and reality TV and Banksy.

Then Jurgen Mather changed everything.

To say that his painting, Beautiful George, was popular would be like calling the Pope fat. Everyone loved it, including the critics. Single-handedly, it created an artistic revival that continues today.

Of course, in order to be considered art now, a piece must include at least one monkey, but like Earnest Hemingway used to say, monkey art is better than no art at all.

The Alien

She had not seen a human before. She had read about them, of course, and heard endless stories from her father, The General. How they had saved the remaining few, bringing them back before Earth finally died.

The humans had not adapted well to their new home. Father said the trauma of what they had done marked their souls, and the majority did not survive long. Sometimes you heard reports, sightings…

He was as clumsy as the books suggested, but his eyes shocked her most. Shapeless, lonely grey eyes. Only regret was left. It was too late for anything else.

From Guest Contributor, Amy Evans