Cirque Du Silly

One summer, I went to Circus Camp. As an acrobat, I was overcome by terror, lost my grip on the trapeze, and plunged into the net before my partner could grab my ankles. Animals hated me. The dancing horse tried to bite me, and the performing poodles peed on my shoes. I looked hilarious in clown makeup, but my timing was terrible, and I was trampled while exiting the tiny car. I tried juggling and hit myself in the face with the balls. Fortunately, the camp staff were brilliant photographers; the shots they posted on Instagram made my family proud.

From Guest Contributor R.K. West

Cheat Sheet

Smith, from supply-chain management, stirring lemon into oolong. Taylor and Grzegorzewski, from customer service, talking about their crap husbands. Sunny sweaters, coffee mugs. Smith nods, sips. He knows their pain. Taylor plays with her jade rabbit pendant. She says she is like a secretary, fielding his calls. Grzegorzewski harumphs. In Santorini last fall, their second honeymoon, celebrating the remission of her lupus. Caught in flagrante delicto, pants around his ankles with the chambermaid. I have crib notes, Taylor huffs. To keep track of the lies and the ladies. Smith finally speaks. I’ll show you how to use Excel, he says.From Guest Contributor Lorette C. Luzajic

Lorette reads, writes, publishes, edits, and teaches small fictions. She has appeared in Unbroken, Bending Genres, Ghost Parachute, Brilliant Flash Fiction, and hundreds of other journals. Her story was selected for Best Small Fictions 2023. She has been nominated several times for Best Microfictions, Best of the Net, and the Pushcart Prize. Her collections of small fictions are The Rope Artist, The Neon Rosary, Pretty Time Machine and Winter in June. Some of her works have been translated into Urdu and Spanish. Lorette is the founding editor of The Ekphrastic Review, a journal of literature inspired by art. Lorette is also an award-winning mixed media artist, with collectors in more than 40 countries so far.

Pitch

He had been following her for over an hour. She had seen him before and was concerned. Bulging belly, dirty holey sweatshirt, grungy jeans at half mast. Just his luck, she walked into an alley. When he followed her, she reached into her bag. When he became conscious, he turned his head and picked up a baseball by his head. It read, "Stalking a star pitcher is a really bad idea. Don’t do it again." The next thing he noticed was that his pants were around his ankles and his drawers were down to his knees. The police showed up then.

From Guest Contributor Doug Hawley