The Shove Seen Round The World

My family sings and we eat ice cream cake, the crunchy bits dancing across my tongue. We shovel sugary forkfuls into our mouths, laughing and sharing kindred stories. We are warm. We are comfortable. We are sheltered.

I am enveloped in birthday cheer the exact moment when parts of our beloved country erupt in chaos.

Whistles for justice pierce the air before biting clouds of pepper spray surround the faces of protestors fighting for their neighbors. There is a shove, and all the world sees a cell phone raised in a clenched fist; a lifeless body sprawled in the street.

From Guest Contributor Brigitta Scheib

Clown Show

Every night around 11pm, the television stations ran an entertainment program for adults, featuring all of the funniest clowns in the circus. They danced around and bashed each other on their heads and wore garish make up, all for our amusement. The show was so popular it got replayed on the cable stations all morning and afternoon. Many times they performed with trained chimps in human clothes that we found cute and funny, because they acted just like real people.

Then, one day, every adult in the country decided to stop watching. We finally realized that clowns are for kids.

All-American Reject

Bill had a simple ethos. He believed in the constitution. He believed that the United States was created to combat tyranny, and that this country was the best example of democracy ever created. He believed that if you left people to their own devices, they would generally do the right thing, and come together to help each other, with a shared sense of right and wrong. He believed that a true American would not sit idle while his country was being dismantled by forces of evil.

Bill now realized that he and his radical views had no place in this America.

The Reluctant Time Traveler

Chance traveled to this decade against his will. Yes, he'd complained plenty about how fucked up everything was in his own time. He'd pointed to a number of examples of how society had been better before and that the whole country was doomed if we didn't get our shit together. But the last time he checked, it was still a free country. He could complain all he wanted. It didn't mean he actually wanted to teleport back to the past.

How was he to know his wife was building a time machine in their basement just to shut him up?

Run Run Run

Last one home is a rotten egg.

Run.

Coach says if I make top two in the state I'll get a scholarship offer from every school in the country.

Run.

We saw red and blue lights flashing from the front yard at Kristi Fields' graduation party.

Run.

Becca asked if we were boyfriend and girlfriend now that we'd done it.

Run.

Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?

Run.

A knock on the door. Blood all over the floor, all over my hands, all over the knife. No one will believe the truth.

Run. Run. Run.

Monty Rediscovers Home

Six-year-old Monty, a master of his plastic sword, calculates strikes against imaginary giants while he takes cover behind backyard trees. When his mother’s voice pierces through his fantasy, calling him for dinner, the warrior boy marches home victorious.

Forty-year-old Monty daydreams of being a fearless commander defending his country against terrorists and, at night, dreams of being a superhero saving his city from crime and corruption.

While cleaning out his garage, Monty finds his plastic sword and wields it again, destroying enemies with a battle cry whoop. The brave boy/man rediscovers his inner sanctuary to face his lackluster world.

From Guest Contributor Leigh-Anne Burley

Assignment

I had been told of the dangers of the assignment and assured my boss that I could handle it. Now on the dark, ominously quiet streets after curfew, in Nazi-occupied Poland, I wondered. I told myself I’m doing it for my country and for myself.

I hid the folded map in the secret compartment in the heel of my shoe. If I am captured, we will all be tortured and then executed.

I continued until I reached my destination and handed over the map to the leader of the resistance.

I finally let out a sigh of relief and wept.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Endurance

When Henrik asks me to hide his wife and son, I don’t hesitate.

Every day, I bring food and water to the sewer where I’ve hidden them. I feel it’s safer than hiding them in my house when the Nazis show no boundaries in searching homes.

Unfortunately, it’s not the accommodation I hoped for, but Henrik and his family are grateful. The resistance has brought more people into the hiding space and so they are no longer alone.

It saddens me, but I fight along with my comrades for a better life in our country.

And so, we all endure.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Platero And I: Father

I have always known my father as a man with a beard, Platero.

He was a proud man—always mounted the fiercest stallion, never a simple donkey like you.

I sometimes saw him standing in front of the mirror with small scissors to remove rebellious or – with years passing – white hairs.

As a child I thought it was a fake beard, but I never risked tugging it.

According to the customs of this country it is up to the eldest son to remove the beard of the father, the undertaker said yesterday.

Guess what, Platero, it was real after all.From Guest Contributor Hervé Suys

Hervé (°1968 – Ronse, Belgium) started writing short stories whilst recovering from a sports injury and he hasn’t stopped since. Generally he writes them hatless and barefooted.

Kingdom

I want to assure you we are all safe here. We have adequate resources to wait until all of the infected have died. With our fortifications and firepower there is no way any plague carriers can get in here. Furthermore, all of you have been chosen for your talent, intelligence, and genes for repopulating the country when the time is right. As long as you trust me as your King, we will prevail against all challenges. Questions? Yes, my good friend Geraldine Jackson. King, have you looked in a mirror lately? You have a red splotch on your right cheek.

From Guest Contributor Doug Hawley