Former Glory

She sits in a worn wheelchair, slightly swaying to the raspy and sultry melodies playing on the radio behind her. Drunkenly sloshing the dark brown liquid in the bottle she’s nursed throughout the night. Her eyes are as heavy as her heart, drooping with sadness and weeping with grief. Taking another sip, she sighs as the liquid scorches down her throat. She hums along to the music, reminiscing times when she played the same syncopated rhythms on stage. Her knobby and wrinkled fingers dance in the air on her ghost piano while swallowing sobs, thinking about her glorious old memories.

From Guest Contributor Sa'Mya Hall

Live A Little Before You Are Eaten

Hybrid kids of Earth? Munching on mermaids? Half-trout, half-human tumors to turbocharge fish growth? A few escape, and voilà, mermaids? Dining on Manitours? Half-cow, half-human tumors? Some flee, transforming Earth into fairyland? How 'bout orcs? Half-pig, half-human tumors? Orcs could settle scores when they flee. The weirdest? Chickenman. End days echo Noah's. Bon appétit! The sad truth of mankind? Will humanity never learn? Eating yourself to death is humanity into Soylent Green all over again? Does humanity never listen and learn change your way before you become the meal of the day. For in the end. Live before being eaten.

From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle

Work

At first, I kept my distance, suspicious of my new colleague. They had replaced my good friend Jen, which had left me bitter. I know that wasn’t his fault, but still.

After they’d been with the company for three months my stance started to soften. He started to sound like the rest of us.

He complained of no autonomy. The cramped working conditions. Management being clueless and disorganized. Finally, he ranted about the microwave smelling and dirty dishes piled high.

Looking back I don't know what all the fuss was about. It turns out the androids are just like us.From Guest Contributor Wendy Cooper

Wendy was born and raised in England but now resides in Vancouver, BC. Wendy is autistic and co-founder of the Autistic Writers' Group. Wendy placed third in the Women on Writing Spring 2023 Flash Fiction competition.

The Garden

"Be seen not heard," they'd say. Even as I dreamt my voice was void. I found myself questioning; was I even being noticed? My arms were flailing, begging for someone to lay their eyes on me. Their blank stare told me all I needed to know. I was nothing at all. I sauntered to the garden and rested my head on the bed of soft blooms. The leaves wound and bent until they filled up my throat, my ears, my eyes; beauty had taken over. I was pulled into the damp soil. I was now definitively neither seen nor heard.

From Guest Contributor Kenna Elliot

The Vestal

In ancient Rome, the Vestal Virgins held a sacred place. As long as each Vestal remained chaste, the walls of Rome would never be penetrated. But...

"Did you hear? One of the Vestal Virgins is pregnant."

"What?"

"Pregnant. The belly's showing."

"How in the world?"

"Everyone thought it was Marius or Septimus that did it."

"Did either confess?"

"No, not even after torture. They put other names to her. Claudius, Tullius…"

"I can see one of those guys being involved."

"But the Vestal denied it."

"Huh?"

"She said it must be some kind of immaculate conception."

"What? That excuse again?"

From Guest Contributor David Sydney

Headache

I’m having trouble concentrating and so I close my novel with a thump. Then I curse, having had a headache for several days that I can’t get rid of. On the coffee table there are piles of bills that I haven’t paid in months. Hence the headache.

My dog Charlie cuddles beside me and rolls over for a stomach rub. Sadly, he’s my only true friend.

“Hey, boy, thanks for always being around.”

I get up to take two aspirins when the phone rings. What I hear on the other end worsens the migraine.

I’ve been evicted from my apartment.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Greek Yogurt

Have you ever tasted Greek yogurt?

The consistency is so thick, and the taste is so bland.

It comes in 2% reduced fat, 1% reduced fat, and fat-free.

Add to it your favorite fruit or other sweet toppings, you’ll be surprised how delicious it will be.

Strawberries, blueberries, bananas, oranges, or even dark chocolate chips.

Finish it off with granola to give it some crunch and some honey to give it some sweetness.

Yum, delicious.

Greek yogurt is that simple yogurt that tastes bland until you add delicious toppings to it.

Give Greek yogurt a try; you might like it.From Guest Contributor Hope Scippio

Hope is a published author, as well as a student of journalism, graphic design, and broadcasting at Pikes Peak State College.

Juiced

Reuben downs a shot of tequila and says to me, “Keep up. We don’t like to drink alone.” I down two, three, four shots and fail to catch up.

Reuben turns to the brunette sitting on the next bar stool. “People claim your fingernails and hair keep growing after you die. You believe that? I don’t.”

“You’re drunk,” she snaps.

Reuben grins at me and says, “When men get embalmed, the juice pumped into them gives them a world-class boner. That’s what I want, a boner that lasts forever.” He downs another tequila, trying to calm his demons and himself.

From Guest Contributor Robert P. Bishop

Death Of Humanity Or Earth?

Déjà vu? Exactly when did Japan decide to kill an ocean? 2022? Or 2024? Or this coming Thursday? ‘Tis a question of the mind, it would seem. Meaning?

Each of those dates Japan had decided to let lose their nuclear waste into the ocean. The next question is Indian ocean or Pacific? Which will die? A third of the living creatures in the sea died, and a third of the ships were destroyed. To hope for salvation. And realize that governments of the world are fighting UFOs or God or gods? It makes reality kind of fictional today. Doesn’t it?

From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle

Motherhood At Starbucks

Motherhood at Starbucks.A boy of 3 discusses his day's activities with his mother.While enjoying his cookie.In a moment of grace, he offers his mom a bite of his treasure.His prize for perfection-- His cookie.She accepts knowing that this perfection may not come again.They discuss their plans that are meaningful only to them.I am amazed at the fluidity of their grace and their understandingOf one another.I wonder what our lives would be like if we were so blessed.Except on holy days when angels guided us home, happy, in love.And sacred.

From Guest Contributor Sandy Rochelle

Sandy Rochelle is an award winning and widely published poet, and filmmaker. Her Documentary film Silent Journey is streaming on: http://www.cultureunplugged.com/storyteller. She is the recipient of the prestigious Presidential Literary Award. Publications include: Dissident Voice, Wild Word, Verse Virtual, Indelible, Haiku Universe, Every Day Writer, Poetic Sun, Ekphrastic Review, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, and others.