Mountain

Eons ago I was born in a cauldron of lava and steam. When I finally cooled off, tectonic plates shifted, lifting me upward thousands of feet. The ages passed and I was molded by the rain, wind, and cold. Eventually I was dressed in vegetation and scarred by rivers. My face has developed wrinkles and I have shrunk. Through the geological ages I have looked down upon a parade of flora, sea creatures, and mammals.

Modern man sends in his bulldozers, cuts down my trees, and mines my ores. Despite this, I will be here long after they have gone.

From Guest Contributor Janice Siderius

Soup’s On!

“Any luck, Paleo?” Keto asked his fellow cannibal as he approached the giant cauldron he was stirring.

“Nothing,” Paleo said. “Zero, zip, zilch, nada. No airplane crashes. No lost safaris. Not a single soul out there for dinner.”

“Well then, it’s soup again.”

“Ah, man! I need to sink my choppers into some nice juicy ribs or breasts, or wings or... Hey! Where’d you get that?”

Paleo froze, his mouth watering, as Keto dropped portions of two human legs into the pot.

“Let me have some of that meat!” Paleo yelled.

“Sorry,” Keto said. “I only have thighs for stew.”

From Guest Contributor Lee Hammerschmidt

Lee Hammerschmidt is a Visual Artist/Writer/Troubadour. He is the author of the short story collections, A Hole Of My Own, It’s Noir O’clock Somewhere and For Richer or Noirer. Check out his hit parade on YouTube!