The Change

“Watta you gonna do?”

“I don’t know.” It was getting dark.

“You could run away.”

“Where would I go?”

“California?”

“That far?”

“Or Mexico.”

“I don’t speak Spanish.”

“Then just give it back.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I already spent it on candy.”

His friend thought about that. “Can I have some?”

“I ate it all.”

After watching the traffic at the intersection for a while, the boy’s friend got up. “I can’t go to California,” he said apologetically.

“Why not?”

“I’m not allowed to cross the street.”

“Yeah,” the little boy still sitting on the curb admitted, “me neither.”

From Guest Contributor Jean Blasiar

Water Pitcher

The mustard-lustered staircase was slick with California rain. Loaded with bridal shower largesse, like some kind of Sierra-Sherpa goat, I lost my footing—and lost the water pitcher over the balustrade escarpment. The abysmal fracture at your feet flashed within your eyes; oh the silence, oh the rain. There must have been other gifts, but I remember this one only, and others: forgetting to set the alarm for the eclipse, going to the airport on the wrong day, and missing Sasha's graduation. The mind adheres to misadventure like a stubborn sticker on glass. Even the dishwasher of time can't dislodge.

From Guest Contributor David C. Miller

Export Business

Suddenly, the company in California I’ve been negotiating with is ready to sign.

This is so important, to say nothing of the many months of work involved; I have to fly there now!

The second I get off the phone from the airline, I phone a good Californian hotel to be sure of a reservation.

Of course the Reservation Clerk wants both my credit card details and residential address. Patiently I spell Brisbane for her and then Australia.

“Aren’t you glad I don’t live in Tallygaroopna or Coonabarabran,” I conclude with a flourish.

“Sir, you have no idea how glad.”

From Guest Contributor Barry O'Farrell

Other stories by Barry O'Farrell have been published by Cyclamens and Swords and 50 Word Stories, even though he is an actor living in Brisbane, Australia.

The Great Compromiser

Millard Fillmore, born in a log cabin, the thirteenth president, cursed his predecessor. If Taylor had not died his second year in office, Fillmore would not be in this mess.

The problem was California. A remote territory infested with Indians and Mexicans. Who would ever want to live there?

But the South wanted a new Slave state and the North was adamantly opposed. There was talk of secession.

Fillmore sought a compromise. Let a future president worry over the problem. If the Union dissolved under his watch, his legacy would be ruined.

Nothing mattered more to Fillmore than his legacy.

Genre: Historical Fiction