Go Slow

With her seat tilted back, she could only see the tree tops as they sped past. She squeezed his hand tightly, letting him know without words that she loved him, but also she hated it when he drove too fast. They could communicate a lot without words.

He eased off the pedal.

The car felt heavy, stuffed to the fenders with every possession she had in the world. Remembering her bedroom, empty except for the naked bed frame and the pink and yellow wallpaper she picked out when she was eleven, caused her to choke up.

'Go slower,' she said.

Falling

Dominicus Tyrannus watched the city crumble from his tower. For years, advisors and barely-trusted confidantes had warned such an outcome was inevitable. There were always warnings and doomsayers looking at him as if somehow he was the one who had failed them, not the other way around.

They were dead now, publicly executed by being tossed from this very tower, their deaths meant to placate the masses. Perhaps it had just whetted their appetites for more blood. Either way, with the empire falling after more than a thousand years of uninterrupted reign, Dominicus regretted not killing them all much earlier.

Friend Of The Devil

Satan ruled Hell with a malevolent thirst for pain and suffering, visiting the worst horrors imaginable upon all who entered his realm.

Bob was Satan's best friend. Bob defended Satan to anyone who would listen. Just because he had an important job to do, and that job was not all together pleasant, doesn't mean Satan was a bad guy. Don't confuse the uniform with the man. This was one of Bob's favorite sayings.

Those poor souls who suffered a Groundhog's Day repetition of never-ending torments hated Bob even more because he stuck up for Satan.

But that's what friends do.

The Walk

I must be insane walking the streets at 3 o’clock in the morning, but I need to clear my head and the air helps.

A dog lunges at me from the alley nearly biting my ankle. It growls and leaves. I head toward my apartment since I wouldn’t get any thinking done after that.

I’m about to put the key in the door when a tap on my left shoulder startles me and I jump.

It’s my son Jameson.

“Dad, I want help, I need help.” His beseeching voice says.

I unlock the door and leave it open behind me.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

She's Already Made Up Her Mind

She's already made up her mind.

Howard doesn't see it. He tries bargaining, apologizing (without ever saying the words I'm sorry), pleading. When that fails, out come the threats, the fits of anger, the hints at suicide. He thinks about hitting her, because it's just so unfair, but he throws his phone agains the wall instead.

It's worse that she doesn't get angry at his anger. She's quiet. Resolute.

He tries convincing her he'll be better. But his apologies are just excuses. He still refuses to say he's sorry, wouldn't matter if he did.

She's already made up her mind.

Conspiracy Theory

Beyond porch lights, snow piles up, sealing in anxious women. They stand at windowsills watching the sky glower. Blinking in the fists of children are glo-stix to throw at the towering drifts, aiming where the eyes should go. Elsewhere, a child snaps his birthday gift of a bow-and-arrow in half. The moon rolls down a hill and thunder beats its metal chest, a rattling that distracts everyone from the whir of an incoming drone. It kicks up all the snow but means no harm, though some will insist the machine was an alien ship, come to take the glo-stix home.

From Guest Contributor Cheryl Snell

Burn Book

The colors bled into the paper as the flames curdled the corners. Names, dates, crimes, it all melted into ash before their eyes, disappearing into oblivion. They all vowed never to speak, even in a whisper, what was written within its binding. Their sins no longer existed.

Most religions have a bible or a creed that is a resolute anchor of all that is sacred. For those lucky souls who inscribed their names into the burn book, their holiness was birthed out of that which was not recorded. Their spirits flew forever free, their futures untied to fate or destiny.

Departure

Stella huddled on the dock with her family, clasping hands with cherished loved ones. She tried relinquishing her ticket, proclaiming she'd rather stay behind, but they pushed her towards the boarding platform without entertaining such foolishness.

Through it all, she avoided looking in Mark's direction. His tear-stained eyes would wreck her. She was determined to wait until the last possible moment.

When there were no more moments, her family backed away, allowing the couple privacy among the sea of people. Nobody heard their whispers.

And then Stella boarded the starship, one of the lucky few afforded a chance of survival.

Our Night Out

Thomas was excited to see Our American Cousin at Ford’s Theatre. President Lincoln would be attending, and he was overwhelmed with contentment that he’d be there on the same night.

Inside the theater, Thomas took his wife’s gloved hand and offered her a seat before seating himself.

The play was amusing and colorful with a copious audience.

Above, Lincoln sat with his wife Mary enthralled with the actors, then a shot fired, and screams erupted. A man jumped onto the stage and yelled before fleeing, “Thus always to tyrants.”

That would be the one and only time I’d see Lincoln.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Houdini

I heard a story once about Houdini. He took a flight on one of the first airplanes as part of a promotional stunt. Houdini was to be chained in the cockpit and the pilot would jump out in a parachute. He'd then have to escape the chains and land the plane safely. He'd never even flown before.

The plane ended up crashing, and both the pilot and Houdini were killed, with Houdini's corpse still chained up. But then a week later Houdini was spotted performing at the Regent Theatre, Salford.

I suspect that wasn't the real Houdini on that plane.