Day 4 In This Dismal Place

The monster looms down upon the invariable doom that has captured me. I hide in a little rock den, but it knows I am here. I try to blend into the decaying leaves and dirt that surround me, but its two spying eyes fall and focus on my abdomen and eight legs. The beast knows how to disable the shield and picks the rock up. Its meaty paws drop down hoppers for me; a peace offering to feast upon. I show the four-legger my fangs, and it drops the rock down over me. It must not know how to fight!

From Guest Contributor McKenzie A. Frey

Water Pitcher

The mustard-lustered staircase was slick with California rain. Loaded with bridal shower largesse, like some kind of Sierra-Sherpa goat, I lost my footing—and lost the water pitcher over the balustrade escarpment. The abysmal fracture at your feet flashed within your eyes; oh the silence, oh the rain. There must have been other gifts, but I remember this one only, and others: forgetting to set the alarm for the eclipse, going to the airport on the wrong day, and missing Sasha's graduation. The mind adheres to misadventure like a stubborn sticker on glass. Even the dishwasher of time can't dislodge.

From Guest Contributor David C. Miller

Nightshirt

It was shocking to find the moon to be just as Joey had always seen her in paintings: the pointy chin, drooping lids and blue glitter eyelashes, the silver curlicue smile. Cold as it was, she smelled like steaming milk, and the look in her eyes was warm and vast, outside and inside at the same time. She was almost two-dimensional, but he knew she had room for him. He climbed on, nestled his knees into the hollow under her bottom lip, hooked a hand around the bridge of her nose, and fell asleep in the pillow of her cheek.

From Guest Contributor Brook Bhagat

After graduating with a BA in English from Vassar College, Brook landed her first paid writing job as a reporter for a small-town Colorado newspaper. She left it to travel to India, where she fell in love, got married and canceled her ticket home. She and her husband Gaurav write freelance articles for dozens of publications, including Outpost, Ecoworld and Little India. In 2013, they launched www.BluePlanetJournal.com, which she edits and writes for. She also teaches writing at a community college, is earning her MFA in Writing at Lindenwood University, and is writing a novel.

Betty's Style

Amanda glared accusingly from the living room doorway. Her father and brother didn't even notice. They were engrossed in television. Their shared triumphant roar startled her.

"What's wrong, love?" Mam rocked herself out of the old couch and approached. She fondled Amanda's curls.

"Betty's hair is a mess. I brushed it yesterday."

Mam smiled. "Let's see what we can do."

***

The doll's coiffure was perfect when Mam put her back in the toy cupboard and tucked Amanda in.

Betty waited until the lights were out before indignantly reaching up and ruffling her hair back to the way she liked it.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid

About Hearts

She told him he had no heart. He was shocked.

Didn’t she appreciate his help? He opened doors whenever she carried heaped laundry baskets. At mealtimes, he cleared the table and piled dishes in the sink.

Not fair! He planned to prove her wrong.

When dinner was ready, he called her over. She was surprised. Said he had a huge heart to spend hours fixing that gourmet meal. He was speechless.

In the outdoor trash lay packaging from the foods he presented. Topped with a heart-shaped box of chocolates. It got crushed by a car after falling off his bike.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. Her work has been published at: Nailpolish Stories, 50-Word Stories, 100 word story, 101 Words, Boston Literary Magazine, From the Depths (Haunted Waters Press), ShortbreadStories, SixWordMemoirs, and Espresso Stories.

Craigslist

It got dark early. He said he would wait in his car since the apartment was hard to find. I put the twenty in my back pocket and even in the headlights walking closer I could see it in his eyes, this kid with a smudge of a mustache, and before that on the phone too something empty under his voice like might as well, like nothing else to do. He called me ma'am and handed me Guitar Hero. He said he hasn't played in a while because the Xbox was his girlfriend's, and she took it when she left.From Guest Contributor Brook Bhagat

After graduating with a BA in English from Vassar College, Brook landed her first paid writing job as a reporter for a small-town Colorado newspaper. She left it to travel to India, where she fell in love, got married and canceled her ticket home. She and her husband Gaurav write freelance articles for dozens of publications, including Outpost, Ecoworld and Little India. In 2013, they launched www.BluePlanetJournal.com, which she edits and writes for. She also teaches writing at a community college, is earning her MFA in Writing at Lindenwood University, and is writing a novel.

Coursework

"Professor, here's my coursework."

"I see. Have you been hitting the bars in the Kuiper belt again."

"Well, maybe."

"And you traveled at what fraction of the speed of light?"

"Zero point nine nine seven."

"Applying the Lorenz factor, how much extra time passed in the Earthframe of reference compared to your personal frame of reference?"

"Erm, maybe three days."

"Did you travel out to the Kuiper belt at the same speed?"

"Yes."

"That's six days more that time progressed on Earth compared to yourpersonal frame of reference. When was the coursework deadline, Mr.Physics Student?"

"Oh shit."

From Guest Contributor Ross Clement

TBT: The Brubaker Spectacular

The Brubaker Spectacular trundled down Main Street, festooned with ribbons and fur, exploding confetti at every corner.

The children trailed after the wagons, quivering in epileptic fits of joy. The Brubaker Spectacular had arrived.

Elephants trumpeted at the sky. Acrobats danced from the rooftops. Giants wrestled lions, while swinging from trapezes suspended over fiery pits.

The Brubaker Spectacular promised two weeks of bewitching sensation, exceeding even the most remarkable dreams of splendor.

Shops closed their doors. The school master tossed aside his exams. Reverends and ministers forgave a fortnight worth of transgressions.

Nobody ever said no to the Brubaker Spectacular.

This story first appeared way back on Feb 15, 2010. It was then published in Picasso Painted Dinosaurs, a collection of 100 100-word stories, which is currently available as a digital download on Amazon.

12 And A Misstep

1. I admit I’ve no control over my wife.2. It’ll take your expertise to reclaim my sanity.3. I’m in your hands.4. I’m just not capable.5. I’m too easily manipulated.6. Can you rebuild my self-worth?7. I’ve listed all the friends I rebuffed for her sake.8. Already made up with Jimmy.9. I’ll be seeing the rest soon.10. Jimmy pointed out a few faults I’d missed.11. God, even now I’m faltering.12. I’ve told him everything.

The hitman grimaced. “Er...all I needed was the fee. Now, where does this “Jimmy” live?”

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid

Periplaneta Sapiens

The rain and wind further eroded the evidence that humans had oncedominated the Earth.

A cockroach scuttled by. Even in the scant thousand years since humanshad disappeared, Darwinian evolution had changed it. The cockroachheld itself on its hind and middle legs, while it's forelegsdexterously solved the problem of extracting a morsel of food from acrack.

Another cockroach approached. The two insects greeted each other withinterlocked antennae. Evolution had been at work here too. Theirsocial interactions more complex and their intelligence greater.

From the ruins of one civilization, an even greater civilization would grow.

From Guest Contributor Ross Clement