Infinity

Duncan had considered trying out an infinity mirror experiment, but taking even a box camera into a photo booth had always seemed so...uncouth.

He’d shelved the whole idea down into a little dark corner of his timidity.

Only the recent spate of high risk narcissistic selfies had managed to prise open that dungeon of shyness and resuscitate the notion.

Smartphone ideal for purpose – persuading himself that he was so much more cerebral than sneering losers – he climbed into the photo booth and popped a coin into the slot.

He timed everything perfectly and vanished up the orifice of physics.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid

Storm

Having left my car behind, smashed against a tree in the forest, I’ve been walking for hours, with the snow and wind against my face. My feet half frozen, barely able to breathe and my hands numb, I’m lonely and afraid. If only I could see in front of me, but it’s becoming dark and the snow distorts my vision.

I can’t go any further. I fall to the cushioned ground and pray my death will be painless. I close my eyes and feel the snow cover my body. I drift off, and the last thing I see is darkness.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Folded Flag

She stood in the snow holding a single white carnation facing the cold wall of names. She whispered, turning to the man beside her, “Sir, do you host other events here?”

The man nodded, gently replying, “Would you like to book a reservation for one?”

“Yes, a wedding. But the groom resides here.” She placed the carnation on the ground and caressed the engraved words before her. Evan Perry.

“Not a problem.” He whispered, placing his hand on her shoulder.

“He said he’d come back.” Soon the tears she had held back then flowed down her face, “I’ve been waiting.”

From Guest Contributor Jasmine Som

As a paleo-vegan, Jasmine loves dehydrating fruits to take with her when she hikes. While others stalk celebrities, she looks up new recipes to get creative with. Sadly, cooking with her heavy cast iron pots has her taking on a new workout routine that includes a weight lifting regimen.

Venus Valve

Mars and beyond seem to be the focus of unmanned space exploration. Venus on the other hand has been largely ignored. Of course the conditions on Venus are much different. The surface pressure's an effective deterrent to probe the orb.

Prior unmanned vehicles that have landed on Venus: all crushed by the pressure.

As far as the aliens are concerned, this is a positive. The cold-blooded creatures did not want earthlings around and made prior adjustments.

Another alien spaceship treks the familiar voyage to Venus. Once near the surface they release the pressure valve, then go skiing on Maxwell Montes.

From Guest Contributor Denny E. Marshall

Great Minds

Despite my dread, graduation blasted through the calendar. The ceremony was lovely; I felt something strange in my heart. After I got home, I gravitated to my room and turned on my computer. I opened an old chat program, scrolled down to his name. Our last chat, both online and in real life, was more than five years ago. I saw him sitting in the front row an hour ago.

I read our conversations, laughed, forgot his vanishing act.

Suddenly, the grey icon went green.

Soccer93 is typing….

The message vanished.

Soccer93 is typing….

“Great minds think alike, I guess.”

From Guest Contributor J.R. Night

Forever In Sunset

Seamus liked this time of day for visiting Breige. It seemed fitting.

She’d enjoyed sitting outside in her Yorkshire Fiddleback, just under the scullery window, breathing in the satisfied air of a full day’s work done as the chickens clucked down the hours to twilight.

She’d watch the sun set across the farm.

“Hell of an old gal,” Seamus sighed, manoeuvring to stand in the spot, watching his shadow sweep along the cemetery path.

The sun dipped, sending the shade of her headstone growing alongside his until it was shoulder to shoulder.

He reached out, smiling as the shadows embraced.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid

A Table For Two

“For two, please,” the woman muttered, fondling the wedding ring on her slim finger. The waiter escorted her to an empty table with a dim candle.

“Would you like anything to drink?”

“Just a glass of wine for me.”

“Anything else?” His eyes were fixed on the bare seat, before shifting to her.

She shook her head firmly, avoiding eye contact. As the waiter walked away, the woman pulled out a small picture frame and placed it on the opposite end of the table. It bared the image of a man in uniform. She smiled at him solemnly.

Happy anniversary.

From Guest Contributor Alex Vuong

Alex lives his life out loud and in vibrant color. He loves to put on his headphones and dance through his room. Alex is always looking for opportunities to learn new music and create more art.

My Darkest Colors

At night my darkest colors show. Sometimes I grow weary, afraid you can't stand the glow.

Darkness comes in many different shades. From fear, paranoia, self doubt and anxiety, the lightness from me fades.

Just as self realization kicks in, and I ponder how much more can I take? A warm calm from light comes through, and my heart begins to wake.

As the light and magnitude begins to grow, the spectrum of colors from light to dark begins to glow.

I begin understanding now, so diverse and ubiquitous, and limited was my vision before. Forgive me I never knew.

From Guest Contributor Crystal Bauer Feldman

Emigration 2.0

The latest Derry crowd had established quite a community inside Grianan Fort, refugees from a Northern Ireland under British administration, ostensibly governed by a partnership of Republican and Unionist parties.

Tory privatisation of social housing, using the ubiquitous Brexit scapegoat, had only been introduced three years before a combination of it and repeal of benefits had forced Jimmy’s family, and thousands like them, across the border.

He pitied those who hadn’t escaped the shutdown..“Lights out!” Someone called from the ramparts.

Pointless warning. One way in and out. Guards knew the drill.

Jimmy reckoned they’d have a week’s grace.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid

The Postcard

I sit in the beaming sunlight reading Tim’s postcard from France repeatedly.

“Callie, I met a beautiful French woman and we’re in love. I’m not coming home.”

My sweat drips onto the postcard leaving smudge marks. How could he do this to me? I’m so aghast, I throw the postcard on the grass and my dog Bentley whimpers as I kick the lawn chair across the yard, hitting the neighbor's fence.

“Hey, watch it, Callie! You’ll break my fence,” Charlie yells.

Before I have a chance to answer, I look at the postcard and chortle. It’s full of bird excrement.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher