The Steward

Rebecca and I drove up the long gravel way until it crested a small ridge and our new home came into view. She sucked in her breath, shocked by the magnificence of the old mansion.

"I haven't been here in thirty years. Nothing's changed."

She squeezed my hand, in excitement or perhaps disbelief. The estate belonged to my grandfather, then my uncle, and now me, a string of unfortunate deaths leaving me the only heir.

My anticipation ceased when I saw Bidwell waiting to greet us.

"What's wrong?"

"The steward. He died in the same accident that killed my uncle."

Accident

The cars came to a halt, and sirens blared. I wondered how bad the accident was. I couldn’t see anything other than flashing red and white lights and I hoped no one was killed. I called my wife, but the connection was bad. I managed to tell her I’d be late due to traffic.

The sun shifted and it was blinding so I pulled my visor down.

After an hour the traffic let up. Ambulances and stretchers were on the scene of the accident.

I said a silent prayer and drove on, anxious to get home and kiss my wife.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Deep Slumber

Every part of my body ached; and my hair was pasted to the pillow from sweat. My lips were dry, yearning for water, but I couldn’t drink with the tube down my throat. I’m in the hospital, but what happened?

There’s movement around me, but it’s just a blurred mess. My head feels as if it was struck with a hammer, the pain shooting down to my neck.

I heard voices.

“She needs surgery to remove the swelling. Sarah suffered severe head trauma in the accident.”

Is that a doctor?

Slowly I’m being moved and sedated into a deep slumber.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Testimony

When my car flipped in the air, I presumed that was the end, but I was alive, and my wife and daughter were gone.

It’s been many months since the accident, and it felt like yesterday. I wheeled myself into court, paralyzed from the waist down, remembering the day the doctor told me I wouldn’t walk again. I thought, it doesn’t matter, and then I remembered my son, Charlie. I needed to be strong for him, so, I struggled through physical therapy.

The heinous drunk driver was brought before the court and his fate will be awaited by my testimony.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

They're Cheap

After Victor finished laying into his subordinates, he always took a long sip from his diet coke. The sucking sound he made with the straw drove everyone crazy. He found great pleasure in their discomfort.

"Well? Do any of you jizzbags have any ideas how to turn around this colossus clusterfuck?"

"We could shave costs if we automated some of the more dangerous tasks. Insurance is up 13% over last year."

"We're insuring those motherfuckers? Get rid of that. It's cheaper to pay off families after an accident."

Victor used air quotes when he used the word accident. Everyone laughed.

Person To Notify

"Have I reached Frieda Grompkin?"

"Yes." Frieda did not recognize the voice nor number on her phone.

"I'm calling from the hospital. It's about Ed."

"Ed?" She hadn't seen her ex-husband in 6 years. "What?"

"You're listed as the person to notify. He needs emergency surgery after the accident."

There was some mistake in the record. Why was she listed?

"Tell him he's overdue on his last three alimony payments." It was best not to say, "Tell that bum…"

"He may not make it."

No more payments? But, no more Ed?

"Oh. In that case, thank you for the call."

From Guest Contributor David Sydney

Old Pete

Pete was a common sight on the pier. Not surprisingly, as he had spent most of his life on the docks. He was adored by everyone. After the accident, Pete no longer had a fishing vessel. He would see the boats off in the morning and wait on the pier for their return. The unloading fishermen were met by Pete. In turn, they would greet Pete and pause so he could check out their haul. Pete’s reaction to the catch would let them know if he approved.

Everyone was sure Pete knew his owner died at sea three years ago.

From Guest Contributor N.T. Franklin

NT Franklin has been published in Page and Spine, Fiction on the Web, 101 Words, Friday Flash Fiction, CafeLit, Madswirl, Postcard Shorts, 404 Words, Scarlet Leaf Review, Freedom Fiction, Burrst, Entropy, Alsina Publishing, Fifty-word stories, Dime Show Review, among others.

A Netflix Original

Two Scandinavian dudes set out in a vintage VW microbus to prove the secretary-general of the United Nations was the victim of assassination. But then, by accident, they discover an attempt to eliminate entirely the smoking of cigarettes after sex. The Scandinavians meet a leader of an underground militia who says that while that’s his signature on the document, he didn’t write the signature himself. I got to be honest, I was expecting more: maybe a “crime wall,” with photos and red strings and so on; maybe the angel of death promising in a mocking tone to stay in touch.

Howie Good is the author most recently of What It Is and How to Use It from Grey Book Press. He co-edits the journals Unbroken and UnLost.

The Turning Point

The crash jolted them awake, as they careened into the seats in front of them. Later, the doctors would say that the fact they'd been asleep upon impact is what saved them. 27 dead, only two survivors.

The siblings would always look back at that bus crash as the turning point. Not the decision to run away, not what they were running away from, but the accident that sent them to the hospital, months of rehabilitation, and then life in a foster home.

For Megan, it was the perfect escape. For Matthew, he'd forever regret not having died that night.

Tick Tock

With his apartment empty and no sounds other than the ticking of the clock, Timothy took a walk in the cold night air until a bright sign caught his eye. Psychic Reading. Reluctantly, he went inside.

“I’m, Tianna. Sit.”

Tianna smoothed her fingers across his palm. “You will be the cause of a terrible accident.”

Upset, Timothy stormed out and crossed the street when he heard a woman’s voice.

“Hey, you didn’t pay me!”

He turned and then a car came to a screeching halt, but not before hitting Tianna.

Still on the ground, her eyes open, Tianna was dead.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher