Love Triumphal

Mother hides me in the closet.

You won’t go back to that school. I’ll deal with that asshole father.

She smells of lavender perfume and sweat. Not like Dad with his Old Spice, calculated aroma, who mocks Mother. Arranges my future with Headmaster Edgar. Harvard, law.

Men bang at the doors. Buzzwords waft into my musky space: “Custody arrangement,” “Legal orders.”

Fuck off. Mother’s words hold firmness, edge.

Footsteps draw near, unpleasant pounding.

My mother tells them I’m her son. I’m someone who needs love.

I absorb that word, so foreign, while she spars, words rising.

Love. What beautiful form.

From Guest Contributor Yash Seyedbagheri.

Yash is a graduate of Colorado State University's MFA program in fiction. His work is forthcoming or has been published in journals such as 50 Word Stories, Silent Auctions, City. River. Tree. and Ariel Chart.

Ruby's Incontinence

“You’re such an asshole Chuck,” the back-braced senior citizen Ruby said as Chuck held the Stanford Medical Center elevator door open for her with one arm, balancing seven incontinence pads in his left.

Chuck smiled and pushed floor one.

“We’re parked in the basement you idiot.”

“I knew that, dear. I wanted to show you every floor so I’d get my money’s worth. $75,000 to fix a damned hernia.”

“You’d rather I be in pain, jerk?”

“Hmm… tough question.”

“Proves my point.”

“I love you enough to tolerate your usual grumpiness at the hospital.”

“Of course you do. You would.”

From Guest Contributor Jay Paul

The Tablet Manifesto

The figure appeared out of the fog covered in blood and carrying a large stone tablet. He made it only a few steps towards us, then collapsed.

He was dead before he could be taken to the hospital and he would never be identified. The tablet was remanded into our possession.

At first, we thought it was just a blank piece of stone, but when examined under a microscope, a lengthy manifesto was discovered. It had been recorded in several languages in succession. After careful translation, the meaning became clear.

Boiled down, it read, "Stop being assholes to each other."

The Insult

When Michelle walked into the room, Wayne immediately confronted her. Everyone could agree he was the biggest asshole at the party, so nobody was surprised when he said, "You look like a monkey used finger paint on your cadaver."

Michelle nearly broke into tears and no one would have blamed her. Even for Wayne, the comment was horrible. But Michelle composed herself and spoke loudly enough for everyone at the party to hear. She couldn't find the words to explain the series of events that had led up to it, but she confirmed yes, that was exactly what had happened.