Sentinels

With the heavens above, eyes perceive blackness below. The silhouettes of lonesome silos dotting a barren landscape gives way to perceptions of ancient obsidian obelisks, sentinels erected by the offspring of some long-forgotten civilization, sating deities of seasons past.

Against a moonless night, one can appreciate the unencumbered band of the Milky Way, glorious gold and white light from hundreds of thousands of stars, blues, oranges and reds, sparkling beacons of potentialities adorning the night sky.

I repose beneath a blanket of starlight, and the encircling melody of coywolves lulls me to sleep as I long for dreams of you.

From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster

The Sneeze

Otto couldn't stifle it. Did he want to sneeze all over Felice? No. But he did. And here he'd planned for a pleasant evening at the small BYOB Italian restaurant.

"God bless you, Otto," offered Felice as she grabbed her napkin."WHAT'RE YOU TALKING ABOUT!" It was a deep voice from above. Loud enough to shake the table.

Again, Otto sneezed. His nose was running now, but things weren't running well with Felice. And he'd brought a bottle of Pinot Grigio.

"God bless you, Otto," said Felice again, politely.

"NO WAY I'M BLESSING OTTO!" boomed the terrifying voice. "NOT OTTO!"

From Guest Contributor David Sydney

Career Day

“Good work today, Boys,” Bud Peptide said to his sons, Spud and Pud. “We finished plowing the back 40. You fellas deserve a reward.”

Bud pulled some bills from his wallet and handed them to Spud.

“Head into town and buy yourselves your first drink at the Short Twig Saloon.”

The brothers rode into town, burst through the saloon door and bellied up to the bar.

“Two beers,” Spud said to the bartender.

The bartender looked the boys over.

“Can’t you read?” he said, pointing to the sign on the door. “NO MINORS!”

“We’re not miners,” Pud said. “We’re farmers!”

From Guest Contributor Lee Hammerschmidt

Lee is a Visual Artist/Writer/Troubadour. He is the author of the short story collections, A Hole Of My Own, It’s Noir O’clock Somewhere, For Richer or Noirer, Flash Wounds, and Pulp Stains. Check out his hit parade on YouTube!

Zombies

The question. Do nanobots work? Does the Graphene oxide poisoning cause Biden's dementia statement that US will be facing in 15 years? Remember his rambling in 2021. Seeing a future when everyone has Dementia or Alzheimer’s?

The truth?

The Graphene in the vaccine made those not reading the contract property of some DARPA weapon system.

In the end it makes people nuts in time.

Zombies?

I remember on Sagittarius thermonuclear war. in Zachariah. The Blood shall rise to a horse's bridle.

I now live on Orion and Zechariah if you read seems to indicate zombies or werewolves. Just not sure which.

From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle

Thunderstorm

When I listen to the forecast, the weather calls for abundant sunshine and the day is anything but.

The sky is ominous and roars with thunder and lightning illuminating the yard. The fence is swaying, and I cringe.

My shih-tzu Benny is plopped under the kitchen table whining. I bend and pet his head. “Sorry, buddy. It’s a thunderstorm. Hopefully it’ll end soon.”

My coffee is cold, so I dump it into the sink and make another cup. While it’s percolating Benny comes out, barks, and wags his tail.

The sun has broken through the clouds.

Chemotherapy awaits after all.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Ghosts

There's a refraction of light that occurs in the brightest sun, causing apparitions to appear. The superstitious call them ghosts.

People rarely fear these daytime ghosts. For most, hauntings happen after dark, when even the slightest sound or flicker at the edge of their vision can set their hearts and imaginations racing.

Philip knows better. His ghosts are worst at high noon. The more there is to look at, the less you're able to see. And so the ghosts of all those enemy soldiers he killed in the War attend him daily, and he can only drink himself to oblivion.

Vernon Dreams Of Love

Vernon had a mighty fine vision of a better life. Though the East had been kind to him, his yearning for adventure in the Wild West was powerful.

He dreamt of wide-open prairies and a sky lit by a million untamed stars. Somethin' he'd only read about in books. The drawings of them big ol' mountain ranges plumb near took his breath away.

Unbeknownst to Vernon was the expanse of Manitoba, sometimes called âpisînikan by the Cree, which means someone who rises from the dead. Soon, his easygoing lifestyle would be disturbed as hordes of undead settlers blocked his path.

From Guest Contributor J. Iner Souster

Morning Constitutionals

Fred was a big man who walked a little dog. Pepe, the Chihuahua, nearly jerked Fred's arm from its shoulder socket as he dashed ahead of his owner on the leash.

Mel Friedman walked Franz, his Great Dane. Clearly outweighed by the larger animal, Mel had to jerk Franz around the neighborhood, at the risk of dislocating his own shoulder.

Whenever the dog owners met on the sidewalk, Fred and Mel were upset, if not very sore. These morning constitutionals were murder on their bodies, if not mental states. Pepe and Franz, on the other hand, nodded to one another.

From Guest Contributor David Sydney

An Empire At War

The empire went to war the same way an insecure dog picks fights, erratically and for unknown cause. Was it to assert dominance in an uncertain universe? Or maybe to protect resources of little worth and questionable appeal to her adversaries? Who can say? The whims of the empress were unpredictable and perhaps more than a little self-destructive.

The reasons mattered little to the soldiers of the empire. They were just unfortunate strays caught up in affairs beyond their ken, with only one concern: hope that their lives, and their deaths, would somehow satiate the inscrutable monarch.

They rarely did.

A Closed Time Curved Loop Time Traveler

As a closed time curved loop time traveler watched in horror at the death of mankind. He wondered. Was it always thus? A learning simulator bent on self-destruction? From one reality bounce to another, pray for peace. In the end, God wins all games. Why? In a Dyson Sphere or Solomon’s statement, there is nothing new under the sun. And that which the author of life has given, so he shall take. Multiple dimensions exist. And every twist and turn of the story of life is taken. What about the dreamers? Even their dreams come true somewhere within a simulator.

From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle