The Polish-Russian Frontier

Eurasian red squirrels live on the border of Poland and Russia. During severe winter storms they shelter inside their nests lined snuggly with twigs and moss. Ralph and Rayette were two Eurasian squirrels. After a fierce four-day blizzard, Ralph poked his snout out. It was 15 below…

“Look at the snow drifts, Rayette.”

She knew that when she’d seen one drift she’d seen them all.

“Hey, I forget, do we live in Russia now?”

“No, Ralph… The Russian frontier's 20 yards that way.”

“Well, that's a relief.”

“Huh?”

“I don't think I could survive any of those brutal Russian winters.”

From Guest Contributor David Sydney

The Wall

The city was surrounded by a wall. In the distant past, whatever architects built the city had ensured there was plenty of room to expand, with the wall erected far from the center. They probably believed there was so much space that they'd never run out. Or that the city would die before it grew so large as to matter.

But here we were teeming like a coffee cup, the only thing holding the place together an invisible tension that might burst at any moment.

No one knew what, if anything, existed beyond the wall. Only that it was dangerous.

For the prompt Frontier

Lost In Space

It is a sweltering summer evening, and Dad bursts through the back screen door, home early from work, carrying a paper bag stuffed with green frilly leaves. “Look,” he beams unpacking the strange-looking vegetable. “Something new. It’s called Romaine lettuce.” He tears off a long tapered leaf and glides it over my upturned hand. “Try it,” he grins. “It flies—like a supersonic r-r-rocket!”

It is the age of Sputnik, Explorer, ballistic missiles and orbital launchers, and we kids are all enthralled. I bite into the crisp, tall leaf, savor the pleasantly cool, exhilarating blast and I am riding high.

From Guest Contributor E. C. Traganas

Frank's Permission

Frank Grumley was old school. So, Ralph, who wanted to marry Claudette, spoke to her old man...

“It's right to ask for my consent, Ralph, because marriage is a frontier, and I want to protect my daughter. But about your work…”

“You mean, quantum electrodynamics? It's at the frontier of quantum mechanics.”

“Whatever.”

“I’ve been studying high intensity fields... You know -- where empty space itself becomes radically active.”

“Huh?”

“But I'm giving it up. I have an opportunity to go into my Uncle Harry's cement business.”

“Ralph, have you seen our driveway?... You're sounding more and more like a son-in-law.”

From Guest Contributor David Sydney

For the prompt Frontier

The Projects

Bailey and Lex were proud of the fact their neighborhood was in the projects They were pioneers, venturing into a dangerous frontier to make this part of the city livable again. Whenever they entertained houseguests--an infrequent occurrence since most of their friends were too scared to visit this part of town--they always mentioned the sacrifices they were making for the greater good.

Projects was a good name. Something like an experiment. Something only the bravest couples dared participate in.

Most of the time, Bailey and Lex endured their hardships stoically. But sometimes they missed having a Starbucks nearby.

For the prompt Frontier

Crossing The Line

“How can a guy talk with a girl without looking foolish?” asked Paul.

“I’m not the one to ask. Last date dumped me, said I’m boring,” Don grimaced.

The buddies commiserated over their lunches in the school cafeteria when an attractive dark-haired girl glided past them.

“That’s her!” Paul announced. “I’ve been eying her for…”

“Go for it! Be your charming natural self, bro.”

Paul rose from the table to catch up with the girl of his dreams. He asked if he could join her. She accepted.

It was a new frontier he was willing to cross into and experience.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

For the prompt Frontier

Devonian

Someone had to do it. There had to be a first fish that struggled onto land roughly 380 million years ago in the Devonian period. It so happened to be Mel. Ed and Gosnold were two Devonian fish who waited in the shallow water for Mel to return.

He was almost completely out of breath.

“So?”

“What’d you mean, Ed?”

“So, what was it like?”

“Oh, yeah, dry land… Well, it was dry. And it was sandy.”

“Do you think there's a future on dry land, Mel?”

“Could it be the next frontier, Mel?”

“Nah, Gosnold… It's just dry sand…”

From Guest Contributor David Sydney

David is a physician who writes fiction in and out of the EHR (Electronic Health Record).

For the prompt Frontier

Lake

The cool lake soothed my warm feet. It was a stifling day and the sun beat on my neck. Trickles of perspiration dripped down my back as I watched people pass by in row boats waving their hands fanning themselves as if that would break the heat. Some were prepared with water in toe and shading.

There wasn’t a light breeze or cloud in the sky, just complete aridity. I didn’t care. The water always gave me respite and I needed it today before going home.

I wanted to enjoy the moment before telling my wife I lost my job.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Valley Of The Sighing Wind

The horse stopped dead in its tracks. Restive, on its hind legs, it neighed.

I dismounted.

“You will know it when you reach there,” I recalled the sage’s words.

Mist slyly revealed silhouettes of burnt trees in the distance.

“How will I find her in the dark?” I had queried.

“Spring returns to the parched land the moment one meets their beloved.”

“And if I don’t?”

“You become what you search for: the forsaken.”

“And I can't return?"

“The drought will follow you.”

While descending into the eerie silence, I looked back.

The horse watched me, foreboding in its stillness.

From Guest Contributor Sathyajith Panachikal

For the prompt Frontier

Sawdust

In 1870, no town in the Wild West was as dangerous or dusty as Sawdust, Nevada. Public drunkenness, gunfights in the main street, and rotting buildings - that was Sawdust.

For every drunken gunfighter there were several termites. Moe, Curly, and Mel were three of them. Al was the termite boss.

Termites build multi-tiered mounds.

“Moe, you're working on the back tier… Curly, you're in the middle…”

Al twisted his antennae.

“Mel, you're on the front tier.”

“Please, not the Frontier.”

“I said the front tier… But wait a minute…”

He knew Mel. Maybe he should send Mel into downtown Sawdust…

From Guest Contributor David Sydney

For the prompt Frontier