Burn Book

The colors bled into the paper as the flames curdled the corners. Names, dates, crimes, it all melted into ash before their eyes, disappearing into oblivion. They all vowed never to speak, even in a whisper, what was written within its binding. Their sins no longer existed.

Most religions have a bible or a creed that is a resolute anchor of all that is sacred. For those lucky souls who inscribed their names into the burn book, their holiness was birthed out of that which was not recorded. Their spirits flew forever free, their futures untied to fate or destiny.

Patience Is The Hardest Virtue In Life

Blessed be the Gods that bring forth the life I’ve longed for in this grove I thought I’d decay in. Even Warriors have weakness—an Achilles' heel. Mine: the matching Fates tread to be woven with my golden strand.

The battle, memorable, left me stripped of my armor and shield. Broken and defeated. Among bare trees. Their roots burrowing down constricting me, but I learned to live with the pain.

Over a decade, I’ve waited for destiny to come home. Embrace me with open arms and a genital kiss. Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos, you knew he’d come back for me.

From Guest Contributor McKenzie A. Frey 

Perhaps Just An Innocent Woman

Maybe they were tears or could be a shining in the eye. He was weak and had a fragile walk, while waving at his daughter. His ex-wife looked on with a miffed face. Her long-time affair waited for her, across the road in his Ferrari. She pushed her daughter towards the car. The poor child kept on looking at her father till her last gaze. Both of them separated by destiny and bound out of pure love. She was a gold digger and he a humble professor. Why didn't he give her some life lessons? She looked deprived of learning.

From Guest Contributor Manmeet Chadha

Destiny's Edge

He held the rifle tightly. Looking through the scope, his target was approaching. Should he take the shot? The target was approaching slowly, allowing the opportunity to fire multiple shots before anyone would react.

Instead, he was patient. His life had brought here: his mother, the Marines, Russia, even buying this cheap rifle he was holding. All of that had brought him to this moment. He'd wait a little bit longer.

His target turned. It was now moving away from him. He took a deep breath and knew destiny awaited him.

With that thought, Lee Harvey Oswald pulled the trigger.

From Guest Contributor Matthew Kresal

The Illusion Of Choice

I was given a simple choice. Pick one basket. Whatever was hidden inside would be my destiny.

There were 100 baskets to choose from. I knew from the stories that most of them were dull affairs, with fates that would play out over the next 50-70 years. A few were glorious. One or two held nearly instant death.

I thought having such a choice was wonderful. It wasn't until later I realized the feeling of control was an illusion, for though I could chose the basket, I had never been asked if I wanted to play the game to begin with.