Silver Flower

The bee insistently buzzed around the silver flower decoration, flitting in and out of the petals. An anthropocentric reading of the situation would suggest the insect was growing increasingly frustrated at the futility of its sugar gathering.

Something in its infrared vision must have found the flowers appealing, even if to human eyes no color or pattern was visible other than shiny metallic chrome. How ironic that something so valuable to our way of thinking was nothing but a torture for the poor bee, who would have preferred the nectar of a dandelion.

I suppose there's no accounting for taste.

Ride

Only a motorcyclist knows why a dog sticks his head out a car window, he thought. A perfect day for a road trip. 79 degrees, cloudless blue sky, divorce finalized, and the new girlfriend’s boobs felt terrific against his back. The speedometer needle inched past 105mph. Miles of Nevada Highway 50 stretched into the horizon.

The auditory bliss of an unmuffled V-Twin’s howl was joined, and subsequently replaced, by a symphony of mechanical annihilation. 1200 feet and sixty-five seconds later, a cloud of pink mist, feathers, chrome, plastic, aluminum, steel, and leather came to rest.

The desert’s natural silence prevailed.

From Guest Contributor Edward Yoho

Edward recently earned an MFA in Writing from Lindenwood University. According to his spirit guide/favorite professor, the title of his thesis, Science Fiction, Sarcasm, and Other Profane Oddities, accurately reflects his writing aesthetic. Edward’s previous publication credits include an essay and a fiction story in Potluck Magazine.