The Central Tower

“Sir, the enemy has broken through our outer defensive wall.”

“Damn, but at least we have an inner defensive wall, Ralph.”

It was a time of constant warfare between petty baronies. Among the pettiest of the barons was Baron Frank.

“Baron Frank, I didn't want to mention that the enemy broke through the inner wall also. I thought that would make you, well, more upset.”

“Upset, Ralph?… Of course, I'm upset. But at least we have this fortified central tower that's virtually impregnable. From here, I can command our troops in a devastating counter-attack.”

“Oh, about that word ‘impregnable’”...

From Guest Contributor David Sydney

A Barometer of the Goodwill Out There

Everybody loved Evan. Why wouldn’t they?

After our accident, I became The Twin Who Lived.

I appreciated him more than anyone, except Mom. He had amazing achievements. People thought I resented him? Nothing of the kind. We split duties: him as a leading scholar, me as the regular guy. We always kept the lines open.

I awoke, climbed out of a destroyed Chevrolet. Fire got him, the gas tank.

Then I heard, reheard it said, “Tragic, but if only one twin survived…”

A terrible secret we keep from kids: some people find it too expensive to just wish you well.

From Guest Contributor Todd Mercer

Todd writes fiction and poetry in Grand Rapids, Michigan, and he loves this life.

Drama Llamax

Jared dropped his items at the cash register and asked for a pack of Marlboros.

"Wait, I recognize your voice," the cashier exclaimed.

Jared grimaced, hoping she wouldn't make the connection.

"I know. You're the Drama Llama."

He nodded with a forced smile.

"Do the catch phrase."

Jared hesitated, calculating whether he could demure long enough without it becoming awkward. He hated reciting the line unless he was getting paid. Unfortunately, the woman had paused in anticipation.

He finally gave in. At least she hadn't gotten out her phone.

"Remember kids, only you can stop the drama in your life."

Hiking The Peruvian Andes

Backpacking the Peruvian Andes from Arequipa to Puno, I was out of breath at 15,000 feet. I had only a short distance to go to my lodging, but I decided to rest. I leaned against a stunted tree, opened my backpack, and took out my water and my last sandwich.

An emaciated man wearing faded pants, ragged sandals, and a traditional chullo, approached me. In Spanish, he said that he had not eaten in two days. I told him I did not have far to go, and handed him my sandwich.

He tore it in half and said, “Podemos compartir.”

From Guest Contributor Mel Goldberg

Date

“You talked me into this.”

“What’s to fear?” I said. “We just take her somewhere quiet.”

Zhou was a straight-A student. His only flaw was cowardice.

“You owe me. If you hadn’t pushed me…”

He started the car.

Half an hour later in the old classroom the woman stared at Zhou in fear.

“This isn’t kidnapping?” he muttered. “What next?”

No answer.

Zhou turned. Only he and the woman remained.

“Hello?”

He grabbed the walkie-talkie. Only static.

“Where are you?”

In panic he asked the woman, “Did you see another person?”

Not the best opening for a date, Mr. Zhou.

From Guest Contributor Yang Zefan

Woodlands

My emaciated body shook in the cold air. I trembled in the woods alone and I am so hungry and thirsty, my stomach churned.

After my family was taken by the Nazis, and I escaped by sheer fortune, I made my way to the forest hoping to find others. I heard families were hiding in the woodlands, but I lost hope and cowered against a tree waiting to die.

I heard rustling and there stood two men and one woman with guns. They lowered their weapons.

The man with the scar on his face spoke. “Come.”

I nodded and followed.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Secret Green

An endless sea of green washes slowly by as I sit on the bus from Cancún to Mérida. There’s a conspiracy that wants me to believe that the waves of that sea are all same same same. That the leaves are all from the same kind of bush, that the trees all have the same name, that there’s nothing else, no hares on the ground, no butterflies traveling from flower to flower. But I know. The magic of this ocean opens up only to those who respect how long, how very long it takes for the mystery to reveal itself.

From Guest Contributor Isabella Mori

Dirty Talk

She answers the phone and lies on the bed, silk sheets touching her legs.

“I’m ready,” she says.

His mellifluous voice responds through the receiver.

“A student's laundry basket.”

“Oh yeah.”

“A tramp's underpants.”

“Umm, yeah.”

“An abattoir worker's smock.”

“Keep going.”

“A bucket of pig swill.”

“I love it when you tease me.”

“The blocked drain of a slum toilet.”

“Please don’t stop.”

“The mouth of a raw sewage pipe.”

“Oh my god.”

“Untreated bedsores.”

“I’m almost there.”

“A puss-filled boil.”

“Yes, yes.”

“A colonoscopy tube.”

“Yesssss.”

He ends their call and returns to his job running the country.

From Guest Contributor Neil Benad

Late Stage Misanthropy

Clyde keeps his excursions to a minimum. Thankfully, grocery trips, doctor visits, and dating have all become obsolete thanks to the computer. Only his biweekly liquor runs force him outdoors anymore.

His copy of Walden is now so tattered he contemplates returning it to the library and exchanging it for a new one. It's the thought of being confronted by the librarian more than the late charges that deter him.

Thoreau had his cabin, but Clyde finds solitude easier to come by in the city. He's surrounded by people and near constant reminders of why he'd rather be left alone.

Cut

I had my heart set on a buzzcut. My mother forbade it.

But what she didn’t know was I had been raped. Repeatedly. I need this. She relented.

I grabbed my shears and made the first cut, leaping up and down, hands flapping all over in joyous stims. This is what it feels like to be in my body, isn’t it? I grabbed the clippers.

Three stripes gone. Nothing in the world could bring me down.

Five. Every bad thought, every traumatic moment that’s happened left me.

Seven. I couldn’t stop stimming.

Finally, it was all gone.

I’m me again.

From Guest Contributor Grayson Pride