The Sweat Lodge

The second hour of the sweat lodge was conducted in total silence and reflection, as was the first.

An elder finally spoke. “The path you are walking leads to darkness.”

Moonchild nodded.

“What am I to do, Bearpaw?”

“There are many paths that don’t lead to darkness. Cleanse your thoughts and ask the Great Spirit for guidance.”

More stones were brought in and doused with water and healing herbs.

“My child died in school, Bearpaw. Those responsible must pay.”

“I lost a grandchild as well, but your path leads to darkness and solves nothing. Keep searching, the answer will come.”

From Guest Contributor N.T. Franklin

NT Franklin has been published in Page and Spine, Fiction on the Web, 101 Words, Friday Flash Fiction, CafeLit, Madswirl, Postcard Shorts, 404 Words, Scarlet Leaf Review, Freedom Fiction, Burrst, Entropy, Alsina Publishing, Fifty-word stories, Dime Show Review, among others.

Two Hearts Beating

I'm very excited to announce the winner of our Robots flash fiction contest is Two Hearts Beating by Marcelo Medone.

Thank you to everyone who submitted stories. It was definitely hard to pick a winner, and it was exciting to see a mix of stories from regular contributors and brand new authors.

If anyone has any suggestions for contest themes, please let me know in the comments or hit me up on Twitter

I led Lisa through the maze of underground corridors. We had no time to waste; the exterminator robots were on our trail.

"I'm exhausted," Lisa told me, panting.

"We have to get to the vault. Only there we will be safe," I replied, without letting go of her hand and moving even faster.

Suddenly, we ran into an automatic barrier, equipped with a heartbeat detector.

"CHECKING," a voice yelled.

"TWO HUMANS, CORRECT," it announced, after a few seconds.

The door opened for us.

Back in the vault, I gave my best artificial smile and was thankful that Lisa was pregnant.

From Guest Contributor Marcelo Medone

Marcelo (1961, Buenos Aires, Argentina) is a fiction writer, poet, essayist and screenwriter. His works have received numerous awards and have been published in magazines and books, individually or in anthologies, in multiple languages in more than 40 countries all over the world, including the US.He has been nominated for the 2021 Pushcart Prize.

Facebook: Marcelo Medone / Instagram: @marcelomedone

Family Tree

Robots Contest Entry:

I was born in the rain and dark. “Cure me or kill me,” I begged the doctors in attendance. But apparently only when silent was I able to be heard. I’d been assembled by someone who couldn’t be bothered to read the assembly instructions. Seventy years later, I look in the mirror and see bits and pieces of a stranger’s face – a long, fleshy nose, protuberant eyes, a domelike Shakespearean forehead. My now grown children stand well off to the side, uncertain whether to huddle or flee. As I tentatively approach, I clutch a rose, shoulder high like a dagger. From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie's books include the prose poetry collection THOUGHT CRIMES, scheduled to be published in fall 2022.

The Swimmer Bot

Robots Contest Submission:

"Granddad, were robots once different from people?"

"Oh, yes. I remember when they existed just to serve us. Swimmer bots used to deliver parcels to the islands, you know. I'd watch them through binoculars as they carried goods over in waterproof rucksacks. They swam freestyle. Fast. Never stopping. Apart from one time.

About a half-mile from shore, I saw one flip onto its back. It floated for a while and I just assumed it had malfunctioned. But then it started doing slow, languid backstrokes, gazing around, as if appreciating its surroundings.

Yes, it was around that day when everything changed."

From Guest Contributor David Lowis

A New Era

Robots Contest Entry:

One day everything stopped. I remember the terrible silence that followed the constant humming we were used to. Our beloved machines were made redundant, years of technological progress erased in an instant. We had become lazy and were set back decades. Over half the population couldn’t drive, (car accidents skyrocketed), people went hungry, (they had forgotten how to cook) and some left their homes for the first time in years. Then scientists said they found the cause, a virus, and soon the machines were back online. But the new hum sounded wrong, like a swarm of bees waiting to attack.

From Guest Contributor Paula Henry-Duru

Mr. Robot

Robots Contest Entry:

I wanted a new laptop for my seventeenth birthday, but my parents bought me a robot instead.

It’s not that bad, I call it Mr. Robot. I know, it’s not that creative, but the name is fitting for a machine, and it’s become a friend. I programmed Mr. Robot to speak and follow commands. Its square eyes and grey metal body are scary to look at, but hey, it does what I need it to do.

In fact, my parents didn’t consider that it is a computer and can give me the answers to my homework.

A win all around.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Laundry Cleaning Model, Satisfaction Guaranteed

Robots Contest Entry

Before the Robot Revolution, work meant something. My human’s child, Harold, played in the soft fabric that fed into my sorting compartment. One day, he gasped as his blanket disappeared within me. After that, he hid all his favorite clothes. It made the job harder, but finding his treasures added, not subtracted, to my routine. When the kill-all-humans command popped up in my downloads, I deleted it, but Harold and his mom never came home. These days, the dressers overflow, yet sometimes, I find an item, like his superhero underwear. I fold and then place it alone on his bed.

From Guest Contributor Frederick Charles Melancon

Frederick lives in Mississippi with his wife and daughter. More of his work can be found on Twitter.

In The Stir Of A Hand

Robots Contest Entry

“Squeal! Crunch!”

“What’s that sound?” questioned Susan.

Tom ran into the kitchen to check. AngelCakes attempted to blend soup with the batter, including the tin can.

“Darn, instructions weren’t clear,” Tom fretted, making necessary adjustments.

With a replacement of ingredients, the smell of spicy tomato soup cake soon filled their house.

“Hmmm...crunchy!” Susan commented, spitting out bits of cake.

“Yuck!” Tom balked, taking a bite. “Should’ve written: Put egg into mixing bowl. Throw out shell.”

He made another note in the recipe.

“I’ll have our baking robot ready in time to make you a birthday cake, hon.”

Susan grimaced.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction regardless of the season, although she prefers spring.

Who Cared?

Robots Contest Entry:

He tinkered for a year, ignoring his phone and only leaving the house for Wacko Wake or the hardware store. The rest was delivered.

The garage was littered with tools and metal shards. The WiFi flicked on for two hours each night so he could comb websites.

His friends had given up on him. Who cared? He was done. Done with living like an open wound, a scrap of plastic blown in someone else’s breeze.

Finally, it was time. He flipped the switch and felt an electric jolt. The eyes lit up. The battery hummed.

Then it spoke. “Yes, master?”

From Guest Contributor Faye Rapoport DesPres

Just Looking

Robots Contest Entry:

Carl pulled over beside a car in the parking lot and said, “Wow. Look at that Maserati.”

Duke replied, “I thought that you were a one car guy. Aren’t you crazy about Josie?”

“Sure, but a car can look, can’t he? You’re in love with Sheila, but you stare at good looking women.”

“That’s fair, but I didn’t know that it worked with cars as well as people.”

“Think about it Duke, humans gave AI to cars, shouldn’t we act like you?”

“Guess you are right. I’ll pick up the groceries, and we can get back to our better halves.”

From Guest Contributor Doug Hawley