Drooley

We named our new bulldog pup, Drooley, in honor of never-ending slobbering. As he matured, Drooley’s slobbering grew worse. Navigating through our house was like running a gauntlet of huge slime spots that Drooley slung on floors and walls every time he shook his head.

We took Drooley to our vet who laughed when she measured the prodigious amount of slobber that Drooley produced, but she couldn’t recommend any measures to reduce it.

Desperate, we invented our own cure. We added alum to Drooley’s food.

A week later, we celebrated our brilliant discovery by giving Drooley a new name, Pucker.

From Guest Contributor Dave Harper

Dave is a recovering software developer who now finds himself addicted to writing fiction.

The Mortar

“Captain Stevens you normally don’t get so upset by attacks, what’s under your skin?” Sergeant Cordova asked in a mock-respectful tone.

“I was watching 1408,” I responded.

“The horror movie with Matthew Broderick?”

“It was John Cusack, but yes.”

“It’s based on the Stephen King story?"

“Yes.”

“Alone, at night, in Iraq?”

“Yes.”

“A few life tips, Sir... don’t give your ex-wife the keys to your Camaro, don’t dismount after getting hit by an unknown attacker, and the most important...”

“What’s the most important thing?”

“Don’t watch a horror movie alone, at night, in Iraq, with all due respect...Sir.”

From Guest Contributor Terry Brunt

A Special Bond

I’m sitting on the couch with Lucy on my lap and Breanna running laps around the living room. My Shih-Tzus, my furry friends.

Lucy is older than Breanna, but smaller. She stands her ground when Breanna gets out of line with a fierce growl. Breanna plays with every toy, while Lucy enjoys curling up on my lap or turning over for a stomach rub.

Breanna is in constant motion. When her batteries finally run out, she plops down, wags her golden tail and Lucy watches on with her big brown eyes.

I love them. My furry friends, my furry daughters.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

The Boglands

You’ve walked this way hundreds of times, but tonight seems different. You keep your pace brisk and straight.

Two shadows, a woman and her child. She reaches down, ruffling the boy’s hair. That's when the boy skips off the road, slipping from the woman’s hold. He sinks into the marshland, cries out and is submerged completely.

You rush forward and grasp the child.

It is not a child. Eyes roll back into the skull then flick forwards. Slight hands clamp tight.

“We’re sorry,” the woman murmurs.

One final gulp of air and all three of you sink into the Boglands.From Guest Contributors Katie Clark and David Rae

David lives is a fan of flash fiction and has had work published in; BLINK-INK, HELIOS QUARTERLY, GNU MAGAZINE, THE MACHINERY, THREE DROPS FROM THE CAULDRON, SUMMER FLING -TALES OF SEDUCTION, SHORT TALE 100 and 50 WORD STORIES.

Katie is new at this game but thinks she might like it. She's the brains behind the operation

At The Lake

Sitting in the sun with her friends at the lake, she hoped for Cannon Stevens to notice her, she hoped her mother wouldn’t notice her tan line, and she hoped she didn’t get burned.

Water hit her legs and she jumped up and ran towards Cannon who stood laughing in the shallows. Scooping water up with her hands, she splashed him and he grabbed her hands, his laugh turning into a silly grin.

That night, her mom flipped, “Bikini lines! Not on my daughter!”

Aloe couldn’t heal the cigarette burns on her stomach.

The lake water and Cannon’s touch did.

From Guest Contributor Tyrean Martinson

Tyrean is a daydreamer, believer, and writer who lives in the Northwest.

My Armor

He was my life, my armor, my smile, my savior, my everything. Lost him! I Will never see him again. I'm sad, grief stricken, but not devastated. I did my best, was there for him with everything required to always keep him going. I did love him more than anybody else and we shared the same feeling. He loved me more than anybody else. His kisses I miss. I don't cry but long for him secretly. All day I laugh, I'm merry with my toddler. The moment I close my eyes he's there waiting for me.

I sleep more now...

From Guest Contributor Manmeet S Chadha

A Fool For Love

Timothy stepped out into the cold evening air and briskly walked to the flower shop to buy a dozen red roses to propose to his girlfriend Isabelle. He had the ring in his inside coat pocket and his proposal branded in his memory.

Timothy pulled out his wallet. “A dozen red roses, please.”

“Big night, sir,” the cashier asked.

“I’m proposing to my girlfriend,” Timothy answered while fumbling for change.

“Good luck, to you.”

“Thanks.”

When Timothy arrived, stunned from what he saw through the living room window, he dropped the roses. Isabelle and his brother Tony were passionately kissing.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Trepidation

Landslide. Highway closed. Closest motel, five miles back.

The adjoining restaurant was packed. I sat at a table with a coupleand their three high-spirited children. Rain fogged our window.Someone outdoors fleeted past us.

“Creek flooded road to my cabin,” an elderly gent spoke as we bothexited. “Why are you here?”

I wiped my eyeglasses pretending not to hear. “Can you please walk meto my room.”

He laughed. “Why, you scared?”

“I saw a prowler earlier.”

He obliged.

Next day’s news revealed that a bear had to be tranquilized on thegrounds, taken back into the woods.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

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

Unsolved

Jon Gilbert took his tools from the back of the company van, walked to Jocelyn Pierce’s front door, and started to ring the bell when he noticed that the door was ajar. He was perplexed, having been warned by his boss that Mrs. Pierce, who was robbed a few months before, was obsessed with home security. Not wanting to enter the Pierce house uninvited, Jon shouted “Arno Landscaping.” When there was no response, he stepped into Mrs. Pierce’s foyer. There he found her lifeless body, supine, unmoving eyes staring, not seeing, a faceless doll nailed to the ceiling above her.

From Guest Contributor Dave Harper

Dave, a recovering software developer, now finds himself addicted to writing fiction.

Happier Times

Lindsey searched the attic for old family photos. Her dad had just passed away from Alzheimer’s and she wanted to make a collage for the funeral. Through dust and cobwebs she came across the box. She found the photo of her and her dad when she was five-years-old. The Ferris wheel was scary to her young eyes.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be with you to hold your hand.” She heard her dad’s voice.

She pressed the picture close to her chest. Then she placed the picture in the pile of memories she’d cherish from happier times before his disease took him.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher