Miss Plum In The Bedroom With The Candlestick

Crime was common back then, and the law itself often criminal. Nobody was safe from the thugs prowling the city. It took constant and wearying vigilance to survive. If I happened to fall asleep, I’d wake up afraid. I think I was afraid she wouldn’t be there, peering out through a crack in the curtains. Why you here? I asked the first time she appeared. She just gave a fuzzy, fragile smile. The ambiguity was intentional. When you leave details out, it opens up possibilities for what can be – an ancient tree whose entwined branches support 34 brilliantly burning candles.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie co-edits the journals UnLost and Unbroken with Dale Wisely

My Cannibal Summer

Hurricane season is upon us. Heat is the agitation of molecules. Today it’s raining, and my car is lonely as an empty swimming pool. Like a lost pilot, I drive myself around and around, although I don’t know where I’m going. All I can hear is black and white noise. Yesterday, I combed my hysterical hair, so I looked like someone based on real events. When I applied for the lifeguard job, I told them I prefer select flesh, and I never let the weather bother me. Was Amelia Earhart’s body ever recovered? I’m pretty sure there is still time.

From Guest Contributor Brad Rose

Alice Falls For A Killer

She surmises blood stains under everything. His skin is cracked like hard dirt in a barren winter. "You could use baby oil," she says. Later, they share a half-gallon of chocolate chip ice cream, her treat. They always meet by the railroad tracks because of his love of trains and exit signs. He speaks in fragments, and she imagines his past is dammed up, full of unexplained absences. She wants to show him her breasts under the moonlight. She wants to hear him whistle so shrilly it will puncture the dark. Then, the darkness will erase the both of them.

From Guest Contributor Kyle Hemmings

Through The Looking Glass

I opened my eyes and saw everything in a new light. The worries of the past few months seemed to have just vanished into thin air. The constant throbbing pain in the back of my head was now gone. I felt like dancing and singing at the top of my lungs. Suddenly I heard some raised voices and the sound of weeping. Intrigued, I walked a few paces and entered the room from where the sobbing came. There was a woman in a blue dress crying, looking at something on the bed. I glanced at the bed and saw myself.

From Guest Contributor Madhavi Agnihotri

Gravity

A panhandler with the woeful face of a Christian martyr in a medieval painting stops me outside the discount liquor store. He says he needs two more bucks to get a bottle. Marlene, he adds as if I know her, is resting with a beer and the dude that shot her whose nickname is Rabbit. Has anyone asked us how we see things? No! We’re all on the road. But now it’s really getting fun. I dig some change out of my pocket. There are only so many opportunities to take maximum advantage of gravity’s pull on people and objects.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Reasons To Write

Miguel was seated in front of the word processor, tears running from his eyes. The keys were making their poetic sound. Rhythmically putting letters into words, words into thoughts and ideas that moved things deep within his heart.

“You’re crying again,” Jenny said. “Why do you keep writing?”

“I don’t know,” Miguel replied. “I thought about not writing...”

“You really should.”

“I just think about how dark and painful my life was. Not having any way to get healthier with schizophrenia.” Sitting in the dark Miguel stared into the light. “I can’t leave anyone to fight this on their own.”

From Guest Contributor Steve Colori

The Clock Tower

The clock tower, situated in the center of the town square, afforded views of the entire valley. No shadow could hide from its rapacious stare.

Townspeople went about their business quietly, all eyes on the ground, hoping to avoid unwanted attention.

Rebecca and Victor met in the churchyard green. They'd yearned for each other since youth, but had never managed to share even kiss. Now might be that moment.

Time stopped. The entire town froze.

When the clock resumed, Rebecca and Victor, despite being certifiably sober, returned to their homes after once again awakening from a stupor under mysterious circumstance.

Corn

Toxic chemicals from a nearby factory contaminated Mr. Williams farm. Every year sixty-foot tall corn would grow. The farmhouse and barn are not affected and deemed safe.

A cornstalk opens sideways and reveals a mouth and eyes. Its husk legs can move up and down quickly but have a hard time moving forward. It extends its husk to reach for a wagon, but spots a unicycle and grabs that. The giant cornstalk rides towards the house.

Mr. Williams’s wife Ruth hears something and looks out the window, then screams.

“What is it?” her husband asks.

“It’s a unicorn,” says Ruth.

From Guest Contributor Denny E. Marshall

Mistaken Identity

“Patricia?”

“Yes, Sir?” replied the student being questioned.

“Wonderful!”

Mr. Griffin gazed at his student’s artwork.

“I improved the charcoal shading,” Patricia beamed. She looked up forhis reaction.

“I mean your dance of the sugar plum fairy was wonderful,” the teacherclarified.

“It was Delores. Not me.”

“What were you?”

“One of the reindeer.”

Mr. Griffin gazed into the distance. “Delores!” he yelled andcommenced walking towards her.

Patricia’s eyes filled with tears. A few landed on her drawing.Someone tapped her shoulder.

“Nice picture. You’re a gifted artist,” Paul the student sitting nextto her said.

Patricia smiled.From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna is a writer of poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. Sheresides in Edmonton, Canada with her husband and stuffed animals.

The Eve Before Halloween

The eve before Halloween I visit Melissa’s gravesite and place abouquet of yellow roses against her stone. She'd be thirty years oldtoday. The cemetery is empty, and the rain is cold against my face, butI am here.

“Hi, Sweetie. In honor of your favorite holiday, I’m having a Halloweenparty and celebrating your birthday tomorrow. I wish you could be here,”I say, tearing. I walk to my car briskly, the umbrella inside out fromthe wind.

The rain becomes heavy and when I drive off, the petals of the rosesblow in front of my car.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher