Manuscript

The rain pelted the window as I typed the last few pages of my manuscript. It was past midnight, and I had been working for hours with a cold cup of coffee on my desk. My agent advised that it would be in my best interest to have it ready by tomorrow morning, my first novel.

Thunder filled the sky, and my dog Bree ran under bed, my concentration never faltering.

As I typed “The End,” a flash of lightning lit the sky, and the electricity went out.

I didn’t have a chance to hit save before the power outage.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Man's Best Friend

My wife said I treated Tobasco better than I treated the kids. I walked him three times a day.

I took him water skiing and skydiving. I fed him rib tips and chili for dinner. He's ridden shotgun

in my Ferrari more than my wife. She has a conniption because I gave Tobasco a 24-karat gold

funeral with a sterling silver tombstone and cremated her mother. The heifer didn't like me anyway.

Tobasco didn't complain about dinner, clothes, and require $1000 cell phones. He didn't fail in

school and talk back. Excuse me while I cry and blow snot everywhere.

From Guest Contributor Gary L. Dozier

I Can't Explain

I know things look bad. I can explain the blood. I was playing with my dog and he scratched me pretty bad. He can be rough.

What about the witness who saw you going into the house?

I was just dropping off the divorce papers. They should be in the filing cabinet.

I see. And the threatening emails from your account?

Someone's trying to frame me.

Very good. That just leaves the matter of the security camera. How do you explain that someone who looks remarkably like you was recorded beating your ex to death with a field hockey stick?

Superman

Superman used to be the savior of the modern world. Natural disasters and global calamities quickly resolved thanks to his timely interventions. No feat seemed impossible to the Man of Steel.

That was before. Now, whether the state of the world just seemed worse by comparison, or the long peace meant that we were not ready to look after ourselves again after relying on the Kryptonian's good graces, who can say? All that's certain is tragedy is never far away and there's no one here to save us.

Not since Superman got a dog. Let humanity take care of itself.

Funky

There was something funky about the way no one noticed as he walked the sidewalk.

The gentleman picking out fruit at the corner stand. The woman walking her dog towards him. The delivery man checking over the boxes in back of his truck. Never mind it was ten in the evening.

Not one person glanced in his direction.

He stopped at the newsstand, looked over the headlines, asked about the impending strike at the local paper. The vendor grunted noncommittally.

He fished into his pocket, as if looking for change, and drew in one smooth motion.

Everyone reacted at once.

Next For Mel

“Choose.”

“What?” Mel was confused. It was 3 AM. Just moments before, he'd been pleasantly dreaming.

“You don't know what ‘choose’ means?”

“Huh?”

“CHOOSE, MEL!”

The irritated voice seemed to come from every direction, as though from out of a whirlwind.

“AND MAKE IT SOMETHING INANIMATE.”

This was it.

“TIME'S UP.”

Mel's life – if it could be called that – was over.

The angel had others to visit that Thursday and more important places to go.

“Couldn't I be a dog, or a goldfish?”

“REINCARNATION'S MAINLY INTO LIFELESS OBJECTS, MEL.”

People don't realize.

“Like...into an old basketball?”

“SO BE IT!”

From Guest Contributor David Sydney

Dougie

I carried my dog Dougie to the car, his whining echoing. I was too busy engrossed in the baseball game to notice his barking and I have no idea how long he was trapped in that wire fence while I cheered and gorged on chips.

I drove to the veterinarian at warp speed and hoped not to get pulled over. My heart pounded, but I kept my cool and talked to him. “It’ll be okay, Dougie.”

I slammed open the door and yelled: “Help him!”

“Don’t worry we’ll do everything we can to save Dougie’s leg.”

I sat and waited.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

The Walk

I must be insane walking the streets at 3 o’clock in the morning, but I need to clear my head and the air helps.

A dog lunges at me from the alley nearly biting my ankle. It growls and leaves. I head toward my apartment since I wouldn’t get any thinking done after that.

I’m about to put the key in the door when a tap on my left shoulder startles me and I jump.

It’s my son Jameson.

“Dad, I want help, I need help.” His beseeching voice says.

I unlock the door and leave it open behind me.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Snow

The first thing I did last night was set the alarm for seven o’clock in the morning. I didn’t know the snow the weather forecaster predicted was going to start so early.

There was a message that my interview had been canceled so I got back under the covers and my dog Charlie snuggled next to me.

Large snowflakes pressed against the window and the wind howled. Charlie let out a growl and went back to sleep. I closed my eyes and wished the snow would stop.

When I awakened later that afternoon, the snow ceased, and the sun shined.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Devastation

Jack and Angela surveyed the scene with racing hearts. What they'd just witnessed was pure devastation, as insatiable leviathans sucked flesh from bone, leaving nothing but emptiness in their wake.

Jack and Angela felt lucky to have survived, as if one false step might have left them vulnerable to the same fate. Like a dog that bites the hand that feeds it, had they tried to intervene, they too might have been stripped to the bone.

"I guess I'll start cleaning up," said Jack. "I'll wash if you dry."

Angela followed into the kitchen, lamenting she'd ever agreed to IVF.