Doctor Burke

Doctor Burke’s hands are steadfast as he performs the intricate surgery. The patient has lost blood and the bullet is lodged in his abdomen.

Nurse Benson hands him the scalpel and he gently removes the bullet, but the patient begins to code. Burke uses the defibrillator and after several attempts the man flatlines. The time of death is 3:52pm.

Nurse Benson approaches. “You did everything you could.”

On the way home, all he thinks about is the loss.

When he walks in the door, his wife is waiting with red wine and dinner.

She asks how his first surgery went.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Imminent

The blow knocks me and my horse to the ground. I reach for my sword and swing at the enemy, his roars deafening. My leg is cut, and the breath is knocked out of me, but I endure the pain for my king and country.

Another foe is coming toward me. A comrade rushes to my aide and stabs him in the abdomen. He gushes blood from the mouth and dies.

I manage to fend off my attacker for now. One of us will tire.

And so, it seems death is imminent for him as my sword pierces his heart.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

A Good Day

My day wasn’t a wasted one after all, he said to the man in the mirror while washing the blood from his hands. He lifted his shirt and uncovered a nasty wound on his abdomen. His clothes were ruined, those stains would never wash out.

The radio was on and reported on events earlier that day:“...concerning the mystery man who saved two children from a burning building. The man jumped through a window on the second floor carrying the infants. He might be in need of some medical attention…”

Not a bad day at all, said the Superhero. From Guest Contributor Hervé Suys

Hervé Suys (°1968 – Ronse, Belgium) started writing whilst recovering from a sports injury. He writes his disturbing fiction generally barefooted and hatless.

The Get Together

Today is a very special day for my mom and me. Today we are going to meet with our father after a long time. I am very excited for it. But the meeting period is very short, just 10 minutes.

Mr. Morgan was waiting for us. He was the medium through which we are going to talk with him. Yes, we are going to do planchette.

My mom and I haven’t talked with him since the day we both died in a road accident a year ago that my father survived!!!!

It’s really a special day for both of us.

From Guest Contributor Prapti Gupta

The Widow's Cat

I found a black widow shaking in the bedroom, sitting in the morning sun on the windowsill. She was mumbling the rosary in a small, desperate whine, like a faraway train trying to stop. Through a lace veil, draped over her head and the top of her abdomen, I could see the silhouette of the little beads slipping methodically through her jointed forelegs. She became still and silent and turned to me, her eyes, two rows of four, clouded and quivering. A tiny tear dripped off the end of her fang.

“Don’t worry,” I told her, “there is no Cat.”

From Guest Contributor Brook Bhagat

Brook’s non-fiction, humor, poetry, and fiction have appeared in Little India, Dămfīno, Nowhere Poetry, Rat's Ass Review, Peacock Journal, and other journals and anthologies. She has completed a full-length hybrid manuscript, is writing a novel, and is the co-owner and chief editor of BluePlanetJournal.com. She holds an MFA from Lindenwood University and teaches creative writing at a community college.

Day 4 In This Dismal Place

The monster looms down upon the invariable doom that has captured me. I hide in a little rock den, but it knows I am here. I try to blend into the decaying leaves and dirt that surround me, but its two spying eyes fall and focus on my abdomen and eight legs. The beast knows how to disable the shield and picks the rock up. Its meaty paws drop down hoppers for me; a peace offering to feast upon. I show the four-legger my fangs, and it drops the rock down over me. It must not know how to fight!

From Guest Contributor McKenzie A. Frey

Infinite Summer

God had bleached everything. The shattering sky. Erin’s face. Even our baby’s perfect hands were white.

Tiny, frozen fingers assail the windshield while Erin shivers in the passenger seat. I ease the gas pedal cautiously, hesitantly–-coaxing a reluctant lover.

Tires slip and I wonder if it would be so bad, sliding to our end in ice and pavement. Why not, with the cold body of our almost baby left at the hospital?

Erin clutches her abdomen, lingering reflex, and whispers the name I refuse to remember. The name we picked when the world was warmer and life infinite summer.

From Guest Contributor Sierra Donahue